Chapter 87
Eric yanked on the chain with a sudden, brutal pull.
Alaric's body jerked, the iron digging into his throat, crushing the breath from him. His spine arched, lips parting in a silent gasp as the chain constricted tighter. For a moment, the pain was unbearable—then exquisite. His head tilted back, eyes rolling half-lidded as he felt it: the heat the magic ring draining, bleeding out through the ring and flooding into Eric.
A low sound escaped him, almost a moan.
Eric's hand was steady, eyes locked on the way Alaric trembled. The room buzzed faintly with the force being exchanged—raw, violent, and ancient. Magic crackled in the air. Shadows on the walls twisted, dancing like they were alive. The ring seared against Alaric's skin one last time before it shattered in a flash of dim silver light, collapsing into nothing.
A thin, angry line was left behind, carved into the pale skin of his neck—a whisper of bondage, now fading, fading…
Alaric sagged forward, breathless, momentarily empty. Hollow.
Then Eric moved his head closer, enough that the heat of him ghosted against Alaric's bare chest. He pressed a kiss to the hollow of Alaric's throat, where the chain had once lived.
"You don't need permission anymore," Eric murmured against his skin. "To hurt them. To destroy them. You're free now."
He leaned back, studying Alaric's face like it was art—broken, dangerous, beautiful.
"Let them see what they made. What you really are."
---
Eric's fingers slid down Alaric's sides, slow and adoring, like he was touching something divine. His hand curled around Alaric's waist, and Alaric leaned into it, smiling.
But it wasn't warmth behind that smile.
The corners of his mouth stretched too far, his eyes widening just enough to ruin the illusion of humanity. That grin was all teeth and void.
"So that means," Alaric whispered, "I don't have to hold back on you anymore."
Eric blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "What do y—"
He didn't finish.
Alaric's hands shot up like twin vipers, wrapping around Eric's throat in a blur. No hesitation. No build-up. One second warmth, the next—violence.
Eric's body convulsed as his windpipe sealed shut under Alaric's iron grip. He tried to speak, to summon power, anything—but nothing came. Nothing obeyed. The magic that had just made him feel invincible now recoiled, useless. It was like trying to breathe underwater.
His eyes bulged.
He clawed at Alaric's wrists, kicked, writhed, but Alaric only smiled wider. Calm. Enthralled. Like he was home.
He tilted his head slowly, watching Eric's panic with a predator's delight.
"So fragile." he murmured, voice smooth, almost purring.
Eric's heels scraped against the floor, lips parting soundlessly, face already beginning to go red.
And Alaric just watched.
No rage. No thrill of revenge.
Just the pure, psychotic joy of control
Eric's hands were trembling now, his limbs flailing weaker by the second. The world blurred as darkness crowded the edges of his vision—but still, Alaric didn't stop.
Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice a soft, lilting whisper, almost childlike in its sweetness.
"What are you?" he cooed, the words drawn out in a sing-song tone. "A toy? A stray? A little storm in a bottle that thought it was thunder?"
Eric couldn't respond. His throat was locked beneath Alaric's grip, fingers like vices, unrelenting and cold.
Alaric smiled wider. "I keep you around because you were adorable," he whispered. "A pet. Mine. That's all. And now…" he trailed off with a giggle, head tilting. "Now the little pet thinks he's stronger than his owner—just because he stumbled across a bit of magic."
His grip tightened suddenly, and a horrible sound escaped Eric's mouth—half gasp, half strangled sob. Veins began to darken under his skin. His eyes reddened and then ruptured into tears of blood that streamed down his face.
Alaric's pupils dilated with pure ecstasy.
He pressed in close, straddling Eric's lap like a lover, his legs wrapped tight around him, locking them together. Then, as if savoring a delicacy, his tongue slithered out,long, too slick—and dragged slowly up Eric's cheek, collecting the blood with a moan.
"Mmm," Alaric purred, voice muffled slightly, "sweet fear... even better than magic."
His hands never left Eric's throat, still calmly crushing the life out of him.
Alaric stared deep into the other boy's bloodshot, panicked eyes and whispered, "You forgot what I am. Let me remind you."
Eric choked out a broken, "S-sorry—"
But Alaric didn't even blink.
His hands still around Eric's throat, he stood with eerie grace and threw him like a ragdoll. Eric's body slammed against the wall with a bone-shattering crack, blood blooming instantly across the back of his skull as he slid down, dazed, the world around him spinning.
Alaric's eyes, once muted and masked, turned pitch black. Bottomless. Void.
He stepped forward, slow, deliberate.
"No one," he said, voice quaking like a low growl ripping through his chest, "no one… will ever be better than me."
He vanished—then reappeared in front of Eric in a blur of unnatural speed, his presence too large, too ancient to feel human anymore. Eric, blood leaking down into his eyes, could barely breathe, let alone move.
Alaric crouched, tilting his head to one side, examining him like an artist admiring a sculpture carved from suffering.
"You look beautiful like this," he giggled, an unhinged, melodic sound. "So perfectly broken,stay like this."
Then his hand began to change. The fingers stretched into razors—long, jagged, glistening with a sinister edge. With a vicious thrust, he plunged them straight into Eric's stomach.
Eric gasped—silent, breath stolen by agony—as blood poured down in thick, hot streams.
Alaric leaned in, his lips brushing Eric's cheek as he whispered through a smile, "I might've been chained like a beast…" he twisted his hand, delighting in the way Eric convulsed beneath him, "…but everything's about to change."
He pulled his hand out slowly, savoring the wet, awful sound.
"If you want to stay by my side," he continued, licking his lips, "you'll have to get stronger—much stronger than what you think you are."
Alaric stood, towering over Eric, his teeth now fully bared—elongated, predatory, glistening with saliva. His curved eyes shimmered with madness, with hunger, with power.
"I'll teach you," he said softly. "How to control that wild magic in your veins. I'll train you… mold you… build you into a monster."
He reached down, grabbed Eric by the chin, and forced his gaze up.
"A monster that answers to me," Alaric purred. "And together… we'll rule the world."
Then he smiled wider, inhuman and cruel, as blood soaked the floor beneath them—an unspoken promise of the chaos to come.
Alaric crouched beside Eric's broken body again, watching the blood seep out in lazy rivers. Eric's breathing was shallow, desperate—his eyes barely open, lips quivering.
Alaric leaned down, his cold breath brushing Eric's blood-slick ear.
"Time to say goodnight, pretty thing…" he whispered, voice syrupy and slow.
Eric tried to lift his hand, tried to speak—but he couldn't even whimper before Alaric's fingers slid up along his jaw.
"So much potential," Alaric murmured, almost lovingly. "But you're still dreaming like a boy… clinging to rules, to hope."
Suddenly, his hands snapped upward—crack!
Eric's neck broke clean, his body going limp in an instant.
He crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
Alaric stood over him, admiring his work. "Poor little thing," he said, brushing Eric's hair from his face. "Looks dead, doesn't he?"
He laughed—low, cruel.
"But no… I wouldn't let you die so easily."
He placed a hand over Eric's unmoving chest, feeling the faintest flicker of something still struggling beneath the surface.
"You know the truth, don't you?" he whispered. "A vampire only dies when their heart is shattered. And yours is still so… full."
Alaric bent down and kissed Eric's forehead with mock gentleness.
"Without blood," he whispered, "you'll sleep longer… slower to heal. But that's alright."
He stood, black eyes gleaming. "When you wake up… you'll remember everything. The pain, me. And you'll be hungry."
Alaric turned, his shadow stretching long behind him as he walked away.
"We begin your real training then," he called over his shoulder.
"And next time, pet… you won't be allowed to scream."