Arthur had remained with Sam and him while the two doctors raced upstairs to wake staff and gather blood. Part of his mind was turning over the novelty of "harvested" blood, but much of the rest was focused on tormenting Arthur.
"Ah, so off goes the friend and father, trying desperately to save the child put in the path of danger through incompetence. At least they're able to draw blood. Your only contribution is to watch me sit here." A brief and cruel laugh, while eyes watched Arthur closely to see if the barb had struck home.
"Not entirely. I'm also here to keep you from terrorizing Sam any more than you already have. And if you do hurt him, I'm armed." Arthur leaned on the wall, pose casual but every muscle taut as he twitched his jacket to the side, showing a second pistol to match the one held in his hand.
"And what would you do if I hurt him?" Dracula's pleasant tones nevertheless conveyed a taunt and a threat, and with the slightest of moves, he deliberately drew blood with one talon. Samuel gasped, and Dracula grinned. "Now, look what you've made me do in my fear. I've scratched the poor body. Please tell me you aren't planning to be a father, too?"
Arthur's face purpled beautifully with rage, and Sam's tear-streaked face twisted back to look at him. "Are...are you going to kill me?"
Grinning malignantly, Dracula chuckled at the child. "Whether I eat you depends entirely on your father at this point. As he's responsible for my being in your house in the first place, for not warning you, for not keeping you from the basement, and for not rescuing you from me, I suspect he'll fail. Again. And it'll be your father's fault that I will have to eat you. But Seward is with him, and Mr. Seward might be able to save you. I wouldn't count on your father, not any more."
The scent from the tiny scratch on the boy hit him then with an unexpected force. That sweet, hot blood, so close to him, released an odor that caused his mouth to flood with saliva and his stomach to clench. He knew his eyes had widened, and hoped the look of shock that had to be on his face was not visible to Arthur. No matter what he'd said to them all, or how fun this game was, another breath would ruin it. He settled for an enormous grin at the boy and then at Arthur, leaning back comfortably against the wall with his toy in his lap.
If they didn't arrive soon, with plenty of blood, it was entirely too likely he WOULD end up biting the boy. And that would be an insult to him, for he was no craven weak fool to bite a child. And a frustration, for it would end the game he was so enjoying.
Instead, he watched Arthur, refusing to breathe, and simply grinning larger and larger when the man spoke to Sam, encouraging the boy, and trying to provoke him into some sort of response. If he responded, he'd breathe. And he was far too hungry to breathe in a fresh blood-scent under his nose, and not respond.
The game had been entirely fun up to this point, and now hunger was making it uncomfortable. Forcing the frown from showing on his face, he kept up the facade of pure amusement until he heard the rapid clatter of shoes returning down the stairs.
They were back, and Seward was carrying a bowl, though not anywhere near so large as he'd hoped. But still, it reeked of fresh human blood and he couldn't prevent the red blaze in his eyes or the hiss of anticipation. Samuel cried out as his talons tightened unintentionally, and with an abortive jerk of his head he nearly struck the boy.
"Wait, wait! We have blood!" Abraham was panting with the results of the race to meet him, and without being told, quickly fell to his knees and pushed the bowl across the floor. Dracula didn't speak, eyes seeing only the bowl, but old caution bred into him from centuries kept the child centered on his lap, shielding his form.
There was an odd sort of catch on the bowl, and a lid, much like that on a stein for beer, and Dracula growled. Hungry, so hungry, but he couldn't release the boy to fiddle with the lid.
"Take off the lid, Abraham! Hurry, for the love of God!" Seward's cry came to them, and, still kneeling, Abraham fumbled with the lid. It sprang open, and, unable to wait any longer, Dracula snatched it up with his free hand. Heavy, it was heavy, but he was far too hungry to risk dropping it and not a drop was spilled as the bowl was raised to his face. Oh, so good, so good...he moaned, he couldn't stop it, the blood pouring down his throat as fast as he could gulp.
And empty far, far too soon. Growling in frustration, his tongue swiped about the bowl, cleaning the last lingering bits from the rim and the latch, snarling in anger that the meal had been so paltry. His head jerked up, and he hissed his frustration at the men before him. Impasse, for a few moments...they were clearly horrified by his sudden and violent consumption of the blood, he was partially unhinged by the frustration of the small meal. It had soothed his hunger, but also fanned it higher with the tease of blood.
"More." It was a snarl, backed by eyes that glowed red and from between gleaming teeth far too close to Samuel, and the bowl clattered across the floor to careen into Abraham, waiting in shock only a few feet away. Grabbing the bowl, he backed up, looking wildly from the bowl to the monster and back to the bowl.
"Samuel...my son...you said you'd release him if we gave you blood..." Almost a wail, cheated but resigned, pleading but hopeful, Abraham's cry and frantic and broken gaze was a balm to Dracula's heart. A few heartbeats passed, and he had control again, glaring back at the human.
"If you feed me enough, then I won't need to bite the boy. This was a commendable beginning, yes. But not anywhere near enough." Teeth bared at the man in a grin that was as much threat as leering humor. "You'd better try harder. That was merely an appetizer...and it has most certainly awakened my appetite."
They scrambled away, getting more blood, Arthur again left to watch. Unwilling to waste energy on the man, just paying enough attention to notice any movement from the gun, Dracula relaxed again, pondering the recent events.
Blood from a bowl? Interesting. Different. It had been a unique experience, to be able to gulp so freely. No matter how great the wound, it wasn't quite the same as from a person. And it had clotted a bit, too. The texture had been intriguing, and the lower temperature changed the taste a bit, not in a bad way, no...just different. Hmmming quietly to himself, he felt the boy move about a bit, and realized the child was attempting to gently free his arm while his captor was preoccupied. With a pointy grin, Dracula pulled him back to a firm position on his legs and went back to this own thoughts with a single preoccupied nuzzle of the child's hair.
The reaction to the blood had faded entirely, the blood-lust gone, and he was aware again of hunger, but no longer starvation. Another couple bowls of blood, and he'd be, well, not full. A vampire was never truly full. But sufficiently sated and recovered to move the game to the next stage.