Disclaimer: They're not mine. Please don't sue. Just having a little fun with 'em.
"Now, we are all adults here. Let me formally Introduce myself. I am Cambridge Waterston III. And you, sir?"
Eliot stood silent, his muscles tense, ready to strike. He still held the girl, unsure of how he would handle her if he had to defend himself, and maintained eye contact with Waterston. He realized as he listened to his own breath, the coms had gone silent.
Waterston was way too calm for someone who had just caught two intruders. Eliot had been in similar situations before and he felt something was off about this man.
Two men surprised Eliot from behind. One grabbed him by the neck and the other wrenched the girl from his arms. Eliot kicked at the man behind him but was knocked off balance by a hard left hook. He had never been hit by something that powerful. His ears rang and a fraction of a second later, he was face down on the ground with his hands held behind his back. He twisted his hands and kicked out as hard as he could but the knee planted in his lower back held him there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Parker on her knees, hands cuffed behind her back with another of Waterston's men holding her by her ponytail.
He really wanted to know how they'd been able to sneak up on him without being heard. His sight line was even with the floor and he strained to find another entrance. The only way in, he thought, was the way they came, but the door had closed behind them. He had to know what happened to the other three; were they safe?
He fought harder to get up, driving his left shoulder into the floor, biting back the pain as he dislocated it. He tried to brace his forehead against the floor to get some kind of leverage but, the force holding him down was too strong. He felt another pair of hands holding his ankles to the floor and then Eliot felt the cold of steel around his wrists as shackles closed around them. He swallowed hard; his throat burned. He labored with every breath and struggled to see as sweat dripped into his eyes. He cringed when he heard Waterston's voice.
"Give me a moment with him and he'll be more cooperative. Get him up on his feet."
Eliot tried to pull away as the two men lifted him by his aching shoulders, but it wasn't going to happen with shackles on his ankles as well. He got his feet under him but that was all he could manage. They held him still, each gripping an arm in two hands. Through hair matted against his face, Eliot got a better look at the situation he was in. The girl he tried to save was still wrapped in his jacket but she had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor. Parker, to his left, seemed unhurt but scared. He had never seen her scared. Waterston walked toward him.
Elliot looked past him to the other side of the room. The walls were stone, hand quarried, most likely. For a moment it reminded him of a scene in one of those old vampire movies where the vampire would turn into a bat and the audience could see the strings holding it in the air. When his eyes refocused on Waterston, though, he knew it wasn't a movie. Although, he wasn't sure it was real either.
The man made eye contact with him but his eyes seemed dead. Waterston smiled and Eliot jumped slightly and tried to step back as he saw fangs descend from his upper gum line. He looked over to Parker who began to struggle to get to her feet. Waterston followed Elliot's gaze toward her and then turned back to him. As the two of them stood chest to chest. Waterston softly reached around the back of Eliot's neck, tangling bony fingers in the mass of long dark hair. Eliot,. recoiled at the touch. It was ice cold. The muscles in his shoulders tensed and he winced from the pain. The dislocated shoulder was now at an odd angle and the spasms traveled down the whole left side of his body, making even his legs feel weak.
Waterston, with his other hand, brushed the hair out of Eliot's eyes and let his hand trail down his cheekbone to his lips. He opened his mouth a little more and made sure Eliot could see the glistening white points.
Waterston licked his lips and pressed his cheek against Eliot's. "Don't worry, I don't plan to kill you...yet," he whispered in his ear. With one smooth stroke, he ripped the shirt away from Eliot's neck and yanked his head back to bare his throat.