What the hell am I doing? Ging cursed himself as he surveyed the hillside manor towering above Yorknew. The sun had freshly set, and darkness had spread over everything in the valley, except for the oil lantern Ging carried and the bright lights of the mansion in front of him.
The mansion was framed by black wrought-iron fences, around 7 feet tall, melting into each other at a large front gate. Behind the gate, a stone path lead straight to the front door.
There was no patrol outside, though Ging wondered if they could still sense him as much as he could sense them. The hairs at the back of his neck had stood up as soon as he had entered the area, his ears were twitching with the faintest trace of sound or movement, and his teeth felt uncomfortable in his own mouth, itching to bite down into whatever he could find.
What am I even supposed to do? 'Eliminate' my ass, am I just supposed to ring the door? Ding Dong Hello yes, it's me, a Werewolf, here to kill your coven leader- A shadow passed by a window on the second floor, and Gings attention got drawn back. Tall, upright statue, they had already mostly walked out of view. But for a moment, the shadow stood still, their left shoulder and half of their face still blurry and dark in the window.

And even though it was too dark to tell,

And he was hidden from sight,

Ging felt like they were looking directly at him.

Instinctively he hid behind the tree he was leaning on, and killed the fire of his oil lamp, biting the inside of his cheek. Slowly, shivers crept up his spine, his muscles tensed. His hand shot to his pocket to grab the cross Cheadle had provided for him. Pure iron bathed in holy water, uncomfortably warm to the touch for a werewolf, painfully hot and burning to a vampire.
Ging had never interacted face to face with a vampire before, and yet something deep withing him recognized this piercing gaze as something inherently hostile and predatory. A century old feud that would carry on with generations, a natural born hatred for each other, its groundwork laid in territory conflicts and a right to hunt.

Everything around him felt intensified, more suspicious, from the cold breeze cutting his skin, to the creaking of old trees under their own weight. Leaves on the ground rustled with either footsteps or a gust of wind. Somewhere a twig snapped. Ging bit down harder on his check, until the comfort of warm blood engulfed his mouth, bitter and tainted.

Silence.
Despite his heart beating heavily against his chest, Ging slowly turned around to check on the window. Clear, no trace of anyone. No sign of anyone exiting the mansion, either. Ging sighed with relief and leaned with his shoulder against the tree. His body was still alert, twitching and tensing, but it seemed like he wasn't in any danger.

"Ah, I knew I saw a lost puppy wandering out here~" Before Ging could fully turn around and process what happened, a hand wrapped firmly around his throat, and lifted him off the ground.

He was face to face with who he could only assume was Pariston Hill. Blonde Hair, tall, lean, wearing a golden herringbone suit so ridiculously shiny, that Ging would have made a joke if his windpipe weren't being crushed. Dark brown eyes were closely examining the werewolf, and slowly, Paristons lips parted to reveal sharp fangs.
"Didn't you know its impolite to spy on people? How should I go about punishing a stray dog like you?" Paristons grip tightened, and his lips curled into a smile.

Ging knew that trying to overpower a Vampire in this position would be difficult, not having the opportunity to transform, or freely move around to take advantage of his agility.
But that would all be fair play, and he knew better than to restrict himself to that. His right hand was still in his pocket and clutched the cross.

In a swift motion, Ging pulled his hand out of his pocket, and smacked it flat on Paristons hand. Immediately the smell of burned flesh filled the air, along with a sizzling sound. Holy shit it actually works-
The vampire withdrew his hand with a sharp inhale, and Ging fell to the ground, gasping for air. He looked up to see the other still holding his own hand, most likely covering a severe burn, eyes fixated on him, lips twitching.

Ging knew he should have immediately grabbed his bag and take the stake or holy water.

Or he should have just made a run for it, a werewolf has a vampire beat in speed.

But he just returned the others stare, painfully aware of his own vulnerability.

Paristons lips twitched to a bigger smile, a smile of irritation and disbelief. "Not bad, not bad at all. What's your name, Mutt?"

"Ging Freecs, if you'd like I can use your ashes to write it down for you." His eyes darted towards his bag, still next to the tree. He wondered if he could out speed the vampire to take the bag and grab the holy water.

A clap, and a pleased sound drew his attention back. "Ging Freecs, Ging Freecs! Marvelous, I must command you for your bravery. Tell me, are you just blissfully stupid, or did someone order you to spy on me?"

"Do you think I'd voluntarily spy on someone as boring as you? Next time you could at least put on a peep-show or something."

Silence fell between them, Ging grinned confidently, Pariston replied with a satisfied smile. Time stood still for this moment, a Vampire and a Werewolf acknowledging each other as spiteful creatures.

The moment passed. Ging quickly leaned towards the tree and reached for his bag. One dash of holy water to burn and distract, and then a quick stab through the heart, and ill be back home before sunrise.

But before Ging could even stand up, or open his bag, a swift kick to his head threw his body against the tree, head hitting the hard bark. His vision faded fast as he fell back onto the ground, numb pain spreading from his head to the rest of his body.

"Don't worry, we're not done playing yet~" The last thing Ging saw, was a blurred Pariston towering over him, flashing another smile.

Ging wasn't sure how many hours had passed when he awoke. His head felt heavy, and his entire body ached, as if he were going through a bad hangover. Once he opened his eyes, he first saw the thick ropes that bound him into an uncomfortable seated position, unnaturally upright, arms and legs restricted.

It took more effort than he'd like to admit to lift his head, but when he did, he realized the darkness covering the room, only penetrated by a few lit candles on the large dinning table he was seated in front of. The table was decked with gold plated cutlery, and a plate covered by a stainless-steel cloche.

Gings night-sight had never been the best, but it was still good enough to pierce through the darkness of the room and find Pariston sitting at the end of the table, leaned forward on his elbows, chin rested in the palm of his hand. There was a small, burning red spark in his eyes, and he smiled at the werewolf.
"Good Morning, sleeping beauty. How's your head?" The vampire chimed.

"Just great, never had a concussion as lovely as this."

Pariston laughed lightly, as if Ging had told an actual joke before he tilted his head just a tad to the side. "I removed that pesky scarf from your head, I hope you don't mind. I have to say, a werewolves' ears are quite sensitive, even while they are passed out."

Ging grimaced, "I hope you had your fill of touching my ears, because that will never happen again." His ears twitched involuntary at the thought of someone else coming close to them.

"That's a shame. It's my first time I've had the pleasure with one of your kind, so I'm naturally curious. You should brush your teeth more often, by the way, I think I spotted some discolorations on your fangs."

"Did you put your disgusting spider fingers in my mouth?"

"I may have sneaked a peak at the unique canines of a wolf, how truly fascinating!"
Ging wasn't sure if it was the concussion, or the thought of Pariston prying around in his mouth, that got him close to throwing up on himself.

"So how long are you planning to keep me here, 'cause it smells like death in here, and I'd rather be anywhere else."

Pariston, instead of answering, slowly pushed his chair back, and walked leisurely towards Ging. Again, alarm bells rang loudly in his head, even drowning out the numb pain, and the hairs at the back of his neck stood up. But he could not back away, not even when Pariston laid his hand on his head and ruffled through his hair.
"To be honest, I was planning to keep you. The relationship between werewolves and vampires can be quite beneficial to both, if they are willing to set aside their differences." His face came uncomfortably close to Gings, and the werewolf pondered if he could somehow manage to lunge forward and bite the others nose off. "You could go outside in the daylight, and run any errands and surveillance as is needed, and in exchange we can give you the security to hunt whatever and whoever, as much as your wild heart pleases."

Ging spit, with precision, on Paristons right cheek, who in return jumped a few feet back, hastily grabbed a tissue from his suit, and tried to clean himself.
"I don't care much for hunting whoever. I'm a simple man, a couple of sheep every few weeks keep me satisfied. You're disguising yourself as human, while I have kept my humanity intact."

The vampire stopped wiping at his cheek, and tilted his head again, lips curled again in a playful manner. "Ah~ So it's like that. A good boy who never bites the shepherd's hand, never reaps the sheep he's guarding. Of course, you wouldn't want to associate with degenerates like us, would you?"

Slowly, carefully, he stepped closer to Gings side again, but stopped at the edge of the table.
"Are you hungry, Ging? I will happily release you back to your herd, but I would be a horrible host if I didn't offer you some food first."

"Does a good host tie his guests to chairs?" Gings head still felt heavy, and he used most of his energy just to keep his eyes focused on the other. Naturally, he was hungry, wanting to recharge on energy. How long had it been again since he had hunted anything?

Pariston lifted the cloche to reveal a piece of meat, still steaming, served with a side of green asparagus and a couple of wedged potatoes.

"My specialty, filet mignon. Rare, 'kissed by the flame', served with a side of asparagus and rosemary-potatoes."

The smell hit Gings nostrils, and he started salivating. He watched Pariston cut into the meat, like a knife cutting into hot butter, the meat seemed tender, and revealed its inner reddish pink. And for a second, Ging had forgotten whatever they had just been talking about. He just saw food, ready to be ate, to satisfy this hunger he had been carrying around.
It was just when Pariston turned towards him, fork in hand, flashing another toothy grin, that Ging realized.

"This is- "Before the sentence could leave his lips, Paristons hand was firmly grabbing his jaw.
"It's bad manners to say you don't like something before you've even tried it."

Ging dug his nails into the chair he was bound to, tried to rip free from the ropes, tried to release his jaw from the vampire's iron grip.
But all in vain.

If he had eaten before going on this mission, or if he could have been thinking clear without a head injury, maybe then he would have had a chance.

But instead, Pariston pressed his mouth open, and insistently pushed the fork carrying a piece of the filet into the werewolf's' mouth.

Various images flashed in front of his inner eye. His son Gon, so small, how he promised him he'd be able to grow up between humans and live like one of them. Cheadle, who trusted him with her own life, and the life of everyone in Yorknew, whose kindness had saved his life.
And the nameless corpse, faceless human, whose flesh Ging was eating.
Pariston brushed the meat off the work on Gings teeth, and held his mouth closed. As if practiced, he moved his ring finger just under the others jaw, and imitated chewing motions with it.

Slowly, the taste of the meat spread through Gings mouth, coating everything.
He did not notice when he started to chew by himself. Or when he finally swallowed the bite. Paristons hand was still on his jaw, though it was no longer in a firm grasp but merely resting there as a ghosting touch.

"How did you like it, Ging?" The vampires voice was just above a whisper, and for the first time since he had seen him, Ging saw something other than a dangerous abyss in the others' eyes. There was no comfort in them, no reassurance or regret. But suddenly he felt like he could understand him. Not entirely, not his existence or his person, but something in his core.

"More." Gings voice was strained, hungry, mournful. For the first time in his life, he felt his humanity ripped away from him. And yet he could not care less. All he could care about in the moment was to feed, to indulge in this primal need that he had kept himself from for so long.

Pariston brushed his thumb over Gings cheekbone, "Good boy."

He proceeded to feed the werewolf the rest of the steak, though he no longer had to motivate him to chew, or open his mouth.

After just a couple of minutes, it was all gone, and Ging let his head hang forward. His face felt hot and flushed, and he licked over his canines and incisors in a desperate attempt to recover any more of the sweet, rich taste he had indulged in.
He had consumed human flesh, which he had sworn to never do. To never loose this part of his humanity, to keep this moral ground. And it all got thrown out the window. His heart ached with disappointment and regret.

A hand lifted his chin, and he starred back into those deep brown eyes who did this to him.
"Do you think you want to go back to the village? Play the good sheepdog?" Pariston leaned forward, resting his hands on each of Gings shoulders, whispering in a light tone into his ear, "Do you think you can? Now that you know what you'd be missing." His left hand gently cupped his cheek. "You don't have to. I'm giving you an option to come with me. Soon we'll leave this village, and head west towards the next. Join us, and you can taste to your hearts content." As Pariston pulled back, his lips briefly brushed over Gings skin, chased by shivers and goosebumps.

"Why me? You've seemed to be fine hunting so far." Ging flexed against the tight ropes again.

"Because you intrigue me, Ging Freecs. I want to know more about werewolves, about what they are capable of. What you are capable of."

With a snap, the ropes came off one after another, a demonstration of Paristons finely sharpened nails. He stood up straight and extended a hand towards the wolf, a devilish smile on his lips.
"Will you indulge me, Ging?"

And Ging pondered if he would.