TokyoPewPew
DWGJay
Infinite Cosmos
HylianRose
Mole
Tlazolteotl
Stryder BC
MaeB
Bork
Neziul
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Location: Vex’s apartment
Time: Dusk
Time: Dusk
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The fridge door slammed shut. The sharp crack of a beer opening filled the silence, followed by a long, deep pull.
“Mm.”
Her voice was honey and smoke, curling low in her throat. Vex leaned one shoulder against the fridge, beer can dangling from her fingers, eyes gleaming yellow in the dim kitchen light. They caught him immediately, those eyes, lupine and ancient, watching him.
“Well, well,” she purred, lips quirking around the rim of the can. “Look at you, all shaky and starvin’.”
She took another sip, slow and deliberate, gaze never leaving his. Then she pushed off the fridge, boots heavy on the floor, each step purposeful. Her leather jacket creaked softly as she moved.
“Relax, pretty boy.” She came closer, unhurried, the wolf beneath her skin radiating quiet authority. “I’ve babysat your kind before.”
Closer still, until he could smell her, leather, sweat, beer, and the faintest wild scent, something floral and feral.
“Vampire spawn always get this way.” She tilted her head, lips curving into a sharp smile, can tapping lightly against her thigh. “Starvin’. Shakin’. Thinkin’ they’re still top of the food chain.”
She stopped just out of his reach, yellow eyes glowing brighter now, almost playful.
“Hate to break it to ya, suga,” she drawled, “but you ain’t the scariest thing in this room.”
She lifted the beer to her lips again, finishing it in one long pull. Then, with a casual flick, she crushed the can in her hand until it crumpled like paper. Tossed it over her shoulder without a glance.
“You gonna keep flexin’, or you gonna sit before I have to pin you down?”
A low, rumbling laugh slipped from her throat, something distinctly canine beneath it. Her grin widened, teeth a little too sharp now.
“C’mon, pup. Play nice. I’ll explain everything in a bit.” Her hand reached out to give Zach a firm pat on his shoulder, gripping it tightly as she extended out a beer to him.
“You’re going to need this.”
Her fingers branded his shoulder—fire and ice fusing under his skin. Acid crawled up Zachariah’s spine, his throat closing as if clutched by invisible hands. The room blurred, his skin shrinking tight against his bones, sweat beading cold while his blood roared in his ears. The scent of leather and wolf mingled with phantom cologne—sickly sweet, choking—his tongue tasting copper as his fangs cut into his own lip. Behind Zachariah’s eyes flashed crimson and darkness, his muscles coiling without thought, without permission, every nerve screaming danger-danger-danger until there was only touch and terror and the desperate need to make it stop stop stop. Then rage erupted from somewhere deep and primal, drowning the fear beneath a tide of pure animal fury.
With inhuman speed, Zachariah’s body moved. He seized her wrist, twisted it behind the woman’s back as he slammed her into the wall with a deep, bone-rattling crack, plaster crumbling around her shoulders. The beer can hit the floor with a sharp metallic clatter, cold liquid splashing across her black leather boots. Trembling not with weakness but rage, he held her immobile with his newfound strength, sharp ragged gasps escaping against her neck.
For a moment, she just blinked down at the mess, an almost bored expression crossing her face despite the iron grip twisting her wrist.
“Oh, come on,” she drawled, lips quirking into a half-smirk. “Do you know how hard it is to get beer stains out of real leather?” she let out a sigh.
“NEVER GODDAMN TOUCH ME!” The words tore from his throat in a hiss that was both man and beast, adult and child. His voice cracked between his current deeper tones and the higher pitch of the terrified boy he’d once been. Both versions of himself screaming at the monster touching him.
Her eyes lit, molten yellow searing through the dim light like predator’s fire. She felt the beast inside her stirring, clawing to be unleashed, but she pressed it down, locking it behind a cold, dangerous smile.
Her breath hitched, not in fear — in thrill.
“Oh, darling…” she purred, voice smooth as silk but edged with steel. “Didn’t know the little spawn had such a bite.”
Even as his strength trembled through the air, even as his breath came sharp and ragged near her throat, she tilted her head slightly, eyes glowing like embers.
“Thirsty, aren’t you?” she murmured softly, mockingly. “Careful, love. Grabbing at the wrong things when you’re starving never ends well.”
Then — she moved.
With a sudden, brutal twist, Vex stomped down hard on his foot, yanking her wrist free with a sharp snap of motion. Her elbow slammed backward into his ribs as he staggered she spun. A swift, vicious sweep of her leg slammed against his knee, sending him sprawling.
Before he could blink, she was on him, straddling his chest, one knee pinning him firmly to the floor. Her fingers wrapped under his jaw, tilting his face up toward hers as her glowing eyes bore down, sharp with a wicked glint.
“Hey,” she whispered, low and velvet-soft, lips close enough that her breath ghosted against his cheek. “You’re not mad, sugar — you’re just hungry. Breathe, calm the fuck down…” Her nails traced lightly along his jaw, not cruel almost tender, almost teasing.“You want a drink, not a fight.”
She smiled then, slow, dark, dangerous. “So why don’t you let go before you embarrass yourself, hmm?”
Her fingers on his jaw sent electric jolts through Zachariah. The weight of her body pinning him down, the yellow eyes boring into his, her breath on his cheek—it all collapsed into a sickening familiarity. Time fractured, reality splintered.
Suddenly, he wasn’t here anymore.
Cold marble pressed against his back instead of ceramic tiles. Predatory eyes loomed above him. Lips split into hunger-toothed smiles. Laughter echoed, cruel and soft. Fourteen-year-old Zachariah struggled against bodies too strong, too fast, as they passed him between them like a toy. Their voices dripped poison in his ears: “Such a pretty boy.” “So young, so tender.” His brother screamed somewhere beyond his reach. Fangs pierced not just his veins but his very self.
The Sanguine Curse, patient and seductive, slithered through the wounds of his past, finding purchase in the jagged edges of his rage and grief. They took everything from you. Your innocence. Your friends. Your brother, it whispered. You were weak then. You are strong now.
With a feral roar, Zachariah bucked upward, throwing the woman off balance. His forehead connected with her nose in a sickening crunch. As she reeled backward, he twisted free, his hands finding her throat. In a single savage movement, he slammed her into the kitchen floor with enough force to crack the tiles beneath them. His eyes blazed, emerald green brightening to an unnatural glow, pupils constricting to pinpoints.
Pain exploded across his jaw as the woman’s fist connected in a powerful uppercut. Stars burst behind his eyes. She followed with a kick that shattered his breath, each rib screaming in protest.
Mid-air, he caught her next strike. A quick twist sent her driving sideways into the wall. Plaster dust showered down.
The woman recovered fast. Too fast. She spun low, her leg sweeping across the floor in an arc. Although Zachariah tried to leap clear, her fingers snaked around his ankle midleap. One vicious yank, and down he went. As she dove at him, he grabbed her forearm and braced his foot against her stomach. Using her forward momentum, he rolled back and thrust upward, catapulting her over his head and into the refrigerator.
The impact dented metal, magnets scattering across the floor. She stumbled sideways, disoriented. He charged. Their bodies collided with brutal force, carrying them both into the cabinets. A wooden door splintered. Glassware shattered around them in a crystalline rain that cut tiny red lines across his skin.
This could have been you, the Curse purred. This could’ve saved them all.
In his mind, in another timeline, fourteen-year-old Zachariah wasn’t helpless. He was different. Stronger. Faster. The building where everything had happened was the same, but this time, when the vampires reached for him, his hands found their throats first and snapped it like a twig.
In the apartment, Zachariah ducked under a counterattack. His fist punched through drywall, narrowly missing the woman’s head. Wallboard exploded in a cloud of dust. As he stalked toward her, fangs bared, the wolf-woman kicked a chair into his path. He shattered it with a backhand, wooden fragments spraying across the room. The apartment walls shook with each blow. A table overturned, a lamp shattered.
Feel it, the Curse urged. This is what power tastes like. This is what you’re denying yourself. The rush. The strength to protect what’s yours.
In this other world, his brother wasn’t dragged away screaming and his friends weren’t dead. In this dimension, teenage Zachariah stood triumphant over the bodies of his tormentors, blood-spattered but unbroken. Elijah was grinning in awe at his twin. His friends huddled behind him, safe and whole. He saved them all. He was unstoppable, untouchable.
—a god among insects.
Embrace what you are, and you’ll never be helpless again.
… But he knew, deep down. This world was not that world and never could be. Because if it was, ever could be, then Warden Reed would never have been born from Zachariah’s ashes.
His very existence was proof that those he loved were gone forever.
That thought cleaved through the Curse’s whispers and the fantasy timeline shattered.
Vex’s lips curled into a slow, delighted smile — a sharp-toothed grin that promised both danger and amusement. Her chest rose and fell, breathless not from exhaustion, but from exhilaration. God, it had been a long time since she’d had a fight like this. She could see it all over his face he wasn’t fighting her, he was fighting the damned curse. His ghosts. She needed to help him snap out of it.
Zachariah halted mid-swing, inches from the woman’s face. Giving her the opening she needed.
She pounced.
In one swift, serpentine movement, Vex twisted her body up and slammed into him, knocking them both flat to the ground. She pinned his shoulders with her knees, straddling his head between her legs as her hands were as swift as vipers. One hand braced his jaw, fingers digging in hard enough to make him flinch, tilting his head back.
Her golden eyes burned with an intoxicating cocktail of adrenaline and dark delight.
Without a word, without hesitation, she drew a small sharp pocket knife from her belt and sliced a clean line across her own wrist. Blood welled up instantly, dark and rich, the scent flooding the air. She pressed the bleeding wrist to his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair to force his head up.
“Go on, Sugar.” Her voice was a velvet purr, coaxing and warm. “Show me the strength you’ve been holding back.”
She felt the jolt that shot through him at the first taste — his body arching instinctively, a low growl vibrating in his throat as the spawn inside him stirred, clawing toward the surface.
Vex’s smile widened. God, she lived for this. The tightrope walk between predator and prey. Between power and surrender. Between life and death. Her heart hammered, not with fear, but with wild, electric joy.
Her fingers stayed on his jaw, nails biting into his skin as she forced him to take more. She could feel the shudder racing through his muscles, the fracture between man and beast widening with each swallow.
“Come on little spawn” Her lips brushed his ear, her breath hot. “Don’t give in. Fight it!”
The blood hit his tongue like water striking parched earth, a crimson relief that sank deep into the cracks of his desiccated soul. Greedily, the Sanguine Curse lapped at the crimson offering, a starving beast finally thrown scraps. It surged through Zachariah, a rush of dark euphoria, demanding more, always more.
Immediately, the Warden part of him—that discipline forged through the years—tried to wrench away. But through the haze of hunger, a cold clarity remained. The wolf-woman was right. If he didn’t sate this thirst now, in a controlled way, he risked losing himself completely. Next time, it might be an innocent caught in his path.
He loosened his iron grip on control, reluctantly. Just enough. A measured surrender.
With primal satisfaction, the spawn drank deeply, savoring each swallow. When it first tried to sink fangs into her wrist, to tear and claim more than what was offered, Zachariah reached for a jagged shard of glass scattered across the floor. He clutched it tight, the sharp edge biting into his palm—pain anchoring him to reality, to himself.
This dance continued—the spawn taking, straining against its leash, and the Warden yanking it back. Each time the Curse pushed for more, each time it tried to bite into her flesh, Zachariah would squeeze the glass tighter, twist it in his palm, letting fresh pain shock him back into control. Blood for blood. Clarity purchased with suffering.
Gradually, mercifully, the Curse’s urges began to ebb. The hunger retreated to the shadows of his mind—not gone, never gone, but quieted enough that Zachariah could feel himself again.
His tongue traced the already-healing wound on the wolf-woman’s arm one last time. The eerie supernatural glow faded from his eyes as he looked up at her. For several heartbeats, he just watched her, the silence heavy between them amid the wreckage of the apartment.
“... On second thought,” he finally said, voice rough and low, “I’ll take that beer.”
