"Blind?" Eric stated, his shrewd gaze narrowed on her face. "As in, you can't see?" The glare she sent him could have melted cement, "That is the general definition of the word." He studied her, recounting all of their encounters over the last week, never once, in all their time together, had he ever entertained the idea that she could have been blind. He just figured she had weakened eyesight like the rest of her miserable species.
Kyra leaned back against the dryer, the rusted lip biting annoyingly into the small of her back. She knew Eric was staring at her, could feel his shock and confusion. Her anger towards him quickly melted away, shame taking its place. People always stared at her like that when they found out, they treated her differently; like, somehow, she was deficient. She hated feeling like this.
The moment someone figured out she was blind; they instantly changed, acting like she was suddenly incapable of doing anything on her own. It drove her insane. Momo was the only person who treated her normally, allowing her the small amount of independence and freedom she could manage without her sight. Hell, even her Aunt acted like she was made of glass whenever she visited.
"How?" He finally asked a few lengthy moments later. She sighed, toying with the end of her braid, "Car crash when I was eight. My parents were taking me to a movie and a drunk driver hit us. Our car rolled five times before wrapping around a tree. I was thrown through the back window, bashing my head against the tree before landing in the ditch. Paramedics found me on the side of the road, my face slashed up from the glass, my throat nearly torn out, and I couldn't see.
"I woke up in the hospital three weeks later and the doctor explained to me that my optic nerves were damaged and blood had pooled in my brain, causing a part of it to swell. I was never going to see again. I was in that hospital for four months while the rest of my body healed and the whole time I was there I kept hoping that I would wake up and be able to see again."
"And now?"
She shrugged, "It's been fifteen years, I'm pretty much use to it by now."
"You don't use any assistance." Eric pointed out after a few minutes of silence. Kyra smiled bitterly, "You mean like a walking cane or a dog? No, no I don't. I never really have, actually. I tried a cane for a while, when I was younger, but I kept tripping over it. I figured I fell enough as it was and stopped using it."
He studied her, taking her in defensive stance, the pensive look she was giving him; as if the little blood bag was waiting for him to start mocking her. Eric felt a sudden wall being built between them, felt as she withdrew into her own mind; it was a protection mechanism that she must have perfected throughout the years. Humans were cruel to those they perceived as weak, and she seemed very use to the condemnation of others.
Normally, he would irritated by the fact that such a damaged and enfeebled human such as her was his only chance at freedom but he couldn't bring himself to see her as such. The warrior in him begrudgingly acknowledged her, her strength of character, her value. No, she wasn't weak; she was a force of nature that commanded allegiance. Eric knew that she would do anything, everything, to free him; even lose her life in the process if it was demanded as tribute. No, this girl wasn't weak.
"How are you able to get around like you do?" Eric asked. She shrugged, her head tilting to the side, the braid swinging like a pendulum behind her. "Photographic memory, for lack of a better term. Once I've been somewhere I'm able to recall a mental map of where everything is at. My hearing is quiet good as well, I'm able to judge where people are just by the sounds they make. Like, I know that you're little over six steps away going off of the sound of the chains against the wood; but, the water heater, I'm assuming is a little over eight steps away. Assuming, though, usually means I'll run into something or trip. It's hard to be accurate with no depth perception."
Eric prompted, "That's it?"
"What were you expecting, Mr. Northman?" She asked with a bemused smile, "Magic? Sonar perhaps? I'm nothing special, Eric. Just ordinary, if anything, my blindness is that only unique thing I can claim." He rolled his eyes, humility was so boring.
Just then the basement door shrieked, Kyra's attention snapping towards the sound as thundering footsteps navigated drunkenly down the stairs. She grabbed the blindfold, slipping it over his eyes just as the door swung open. Malcolm, Audrey, and two swaying tarts stumbled in to the room. "Holy fucking crap," One of the tarts trilled, elbowing Kyra out of the way to run a dirtied hand through Eric's hair. "He's fucking gorgeous."
"I heard sex with a vampire is the best sex you'll ever get." The other one stated, sliding her hand down his chest. "It's a shame that he's all chained up like this. I'd love to get a taste of him."
Eric sneered at the two girls, lunging against the chains. They jumped nervously but continued to fawn over him, sliding against him. The chains shifted, digging deeper, the smell of burnt flesh invading Kyra. "Stop it." She demanded, yanking one of the hussies away, "You're hurting him." The girl slapped at her before pressing herself against Eric's thigh.
"Back off, bitch," Malcolm slurred, slipping a knife into his hand, "These girls just wanted a taste from the source." He slashed open both Eric's forearms, ignoring the vampire's hiss. The two girls sank to their knees and began moaning and writhing as they lapped at the pooling blood. He handed the knife to Audrey who sashayed behind the chair, glancing at her cousin before leaning over and running her tongue alone his neck. Eric snarled at her but Audrey only laughed as she twisted the tip of the blade into his neck, sucking at the bleeding wound.
Kyra tried to reach Eric but Malcolm cut her off, shoving her into the wall; caging her there. His arm pressed tightly into her throat, forcing her to take small, shallow breaths. "Where the fuck do you think you're going, whore?" He asked, his sour breath caressing her cheek.
"You're hurting him." She fought to get the words out, her lungs beginning to burn. Malcolm just laughed, spittle flying from his lips. "Why the fuck do you care? You got a hard on for the vamper?" He dug his arm deeper into her throat, sealing off her windpipe. "You a fang banger, bitch? That's why you're such a cold bitch, isn't it? You only like dead peckers in your pussy, don't you? Couldn't handle a real fucking man. With a face like yours no living guy would want you, not surprised that you have to go to these dead fucks to get off."
His free hand clamped painfully onto her breast, twisting the soft flesh until an agonizing sound was torn from her. "Bitches like you fucking piss me off. Think you're so fucking better than everyone else." He gave her breast one last excruciating jerk before shoving his hand down her pant, his dirty fingers clawing that the tender flesh. "I'm going to enjoy fucking your stuck up ass. And then, I'm going to take your ass upstairs and pass you around like the cheap whore you are."
Terror flooded her system as his hand dug at her trying to push past her underwear; she knew that he fully intended to carry out his heinous plan. Her lungs were screaming for air as static began filling her mind. Kyra pried a hand off of his arm, tearing at his face with her nails; desperately trying to claw the prick's eye out. She must have done some form of damage because the creature let out a blood-curdling roar, tearing his arm from her throat to slam his fist into the corner of her eye.
Her head shot back, cracking into the cinderblock wall. For a moment, she actually saw stars, bright pops and flashes of color that shimmered in front of her eyes before her head felt as if it was underwater. The noise around her was muffled, Malcolm was screaming at her but she couldn't understand the words. One hand was fisted in her tank top, holding her up while the other fell like a hammer, pounding into her face and head. Kyra meekly tried to fend off the blows but her arms weren't obeying her commands, uselessly trying to protect herself.
"Baby," Audrey cooed, curling herself around his pulled back arm. "Let's go upstairs. I think these girls are looking for a different kind of entertainment now. Besides, this little sow is done." Sure enough, the other girls were running their hands along each other's body, moaning as they rubbed themselves together.
Malcolm inhaled sharply as Audrey's hand cupped him through his baggy jeans. He flung Kyra to the floor, her head bouncing against the concrete, before allowing himself to be pulled from the room. She lay silently on the floor, her battered body raging at her as she tried to force the ringing in her ears to dissipate. Minutes, maybe years, later she finally pulled herself into a sitting position, her knees drawn tightly against her chest as she rested her forehead against them.
Eric growled, his fangs like daggers, as he listened to her battle to breathe. He could smell her blood and it enraged him, fueling his fury until it nearly consumed him. The little human had valiantly tried to defend him but was unable to stand against a man twice her size and three times her weight and she had been brutalized because of it. He had planned just to tear Malcolm's head from his body but, now, he was going to make him suffer, making him pay for every moment.
"Are you all right?" She asked, her voice was muffled but he could hear the raggedly painful words, he could almost feel the harsh burn that must have accompanied them. How like her, nearly beaten to death and almost raped but her concern was still, always, him. "Worry about yourself, little human." Eric remarked.
"I'm fine."
"You sound like it."
Kyra let out a little huff of a laugh, instantly wincing as a biting pain flared in her throat like acid. She was hurting, her face swelling as her chest burned, the soft flesh bruising and she didn't even want to think about the aching discomfort between her legs. Long sleepless night filled with trauma and nightmares awaited her but, right now, all she wanted was to hear him laugh. "What do you know, anyways?" She asked, "You went to clown college."
Eric's head snapped around, "What?"
"You went to clown college." She stated, a weak smile toying with her bloody, torn lips. "That's how you got turned. You were mad that the ringleader of the circus wouldn't let you become a clown so you went to clown college and your professor, Honkers, turned you as a graduate present. You specialized in balloon animals and you still have your first pair of oversized shoes and you ride on a red tricycle to get to late night birthday parties. Oh, and your stage name is Squeakers."
There it was; that deep, velvety laugh. Chills prickled over her skin as she smiled. "Is this how you handle trauma," He asked, "Making up wild, completely untrue stories?"
"I don't know it's not right," She continued, the teasing lightening the lilt in her voice, "You never told me how you ended up as a vampire so my wild imagination has to fill in the blanks somehow, Squeakers."
"Shameless," Eric said with a chuckle, "Completely fucking shameless. I can assure you that I haven't, and never will be, a clown."
Kyra laughed then, "I suppose a Viking warrior does fit you better." She slowly made her way over to him, her hand resting atop his as she slid the blindfold off, "Though the idea of you trolling around on a tricycle does make me smile."
His fangs exploded into his mouth again as he saw the damaged done to her, looking as if she had been hit by a car. The outrage he had felt towards her somehow finding out about his past died instantly. Her full lips were split, blood discoloring the whiteness of her teeth, the crimson liquid dripped from her ear and nose. One eye was swollen shut while dark smudges ringed the other. Her clothes were torn and soiled, her hair wild. She offered him a small smile, resting her cheek against his arm, making sure not to disturb the chains; her only sign of discomfort.
Physical contact usually annoyed him, only Pam was allowed to touch him without permission; and even then it was rarely. When humans usually pawed at him, they wanted sex or money, often times both. But with her, as he had come to expect, she wanted nothing; not sex, money, blood, nothing but a moment of comfort, a moment of reprieve from her pain. Comfort was something foreign to him, something he had rarely received in his many long years; and something he had no idea how to give.
"I'm sorry," He managed, the words tasting bitter on his tongue, "That this happened to you." Her eye fluttered closed, her sigh momentarily warming his flesh. "No, Eric, I'm sorry. I'm so, so very sorry that you've had to endure this. And I'm sorry that I can't defend you. I really did try."
He let the silence unfold between them, her soft heartbeat a whisper beneath the pounding music and the groans of animal passion from above. Here, something innocent sprang from brutality; it wasn't attraction but understanding, admiration; a bond forged through fire and pain. In a thousand years, he would be able to recall this moment in every vivid detail; it was forever burned into his mind.
"My blood can heal you." Eric stated. Kyra instantly shook her head, groaning softly as the small movement caused her mind to swim, "I've seen was V does to people, Eric. I'd rather be in pain for the next few days."
Eric nodded towards the slowly healing cut on his arm, "You'll only need a small amount. Weakness, little human, is the main reason your pathetic species gets addicted. A weakness I know you don't have."
"Mr. Northman, I do believe that you just gave me a compliment." She teased. "Don't let it go to your head." Eric commanded, "Now drink."
Kyra grew still, the very tip of her finger caressing against the nearly healed cut. She tucked a loch of her hair behind her ear before, very gently, lapping at the wound. She had steeled herself for the metal taste of copper but it was something entirely different; something she could have never prepared herself for. It tasted like honeyed mead, salty like an ocean spray, of a roaring fire, and cold winters. A thousand years of emotions, thoughts, and experiences flood her being, until she was unsure where she stopped and he began. Kyra instantly understood the reason that people did V, it was a feeling that she would never forget.
Eric groaned deep in his chest as that little tongue lapped at him again. Sultry night filled his mind, nights complete with breathy groans and nails biting into his skin; until he was drunk from the smell of vanilla and cinnamon. Long nights, multiple nights because he knew, if he had her once, it was never going to be enough.
She gently pulled away, hearing his pants, feeling her own. Dangerous territory, the kind that claimed and changed lives, that's where she had just innocently wandered. Gingerly, her fingers skimmed her face, the gnawing pain was gone, the aches from the bruises, the discomfort of her flesh; gone, vanished. Heat spread through her, a low burning but undeniable heat, until even the feel of her clothing was too much, the tickling of her hair against her skin. A blush splashed across her cheeks as she wet her lips, causing Eric to groan again.
"Well, that was a nifty trick." Kyra stated, slowly backing away. She felt Eric's heated gaze like a tangible caress, could feel a different kind of hunger coming off of him. Distance was the best option. "I-um- didn't realize how amazing it really was. I'm not going to have any weird side effects, am I? Like an unnatural need for a rare steak or a need to hang out with bats."
Eric licked a fang, a wolfish smile gracing his face. "There are few side effects but nothing like that. Your physical senses will be enhanced for a while but, I don't think, you'll even notice. The blood will act like a tie between the two of us. I will feel what you feel, be able to sense where you are."
"So, everyone that has drank your blood, you're tied to them?"
He rolled his eyes, "For a while at least, as of late, the number seems to have increased." Kyra glanced at the ceiling, "Yeah, I bet it has." A metallic voice suddenly sounded from her purse, informing that a new text message from Momo was waiting. She turned away from him, digging for her phone before it read the message to her. Momo was out, picking up their dinner and wanted to come and get her. She glanced back at him, "Would you mind if I skipped out a little early tonight?"
Eric shook his head, "Until, tomorrow." Kyra quickly packed up her purse, dumping the knife and medical supplies into the bucket before tugging the blindfold over his eyes. She paused for a moment, leaning down to brush a hesitant kiss against his hair. "Goodnight, Eric the Viking, I'll see you tomorrow."
His voice caused her to still in the doorway, chocolate smooth and full of dark promises, "Goodnight, little human. Sweet dreams."