Odin 05

Silmeria hadn’t had a real thought in what had felt like forever. Certainly she had had no memories, no nightmares and no dreams. Her sluggish mind had simply been too busy and too slow to spare the energy needed to do such a thing, the Valkyrie’s body struggling to not only recover from her latest trauma, but to heal completely ALL the wrong that had ever been done to it. In that dreamless, thoughtless state, her body devoted its entirety to it’s self appointed task, Silmeria feeling as though she was floating, surrounded by the nothingness that had manifested itself as never ending darkness.

In that empty state of existing, when the Valkyrie’s mind finally did form a thought, the mental kick back of stimuli had been downright painful. With that throbbing awareness came a flurry of input,

an overactive imagining of thoughts, feelings, and memories. This arresting array was indeed too much at once for the Valkyrie, so completely overwhelming that the woman was unable to focus on any one single thing. She still had impressions though, vague uncertain slivers, some so fantastical that it left Silmeria unable to tell just what was real, and was what simply the result of a creative and harried imagination. So fast did these images come and go that Silmeria was left dizzy and breathless, unable to grasp hold of any, the woman confused by the thoughts.

Faces flickered before her, the men and the woman that she was most familiar with. She saw that of her sisters, of Hrist and of Lenneth, one stern the other frantic, and both holding a world of worry and pain in their eyes. They weren’t the only ones. Silmeria saw the faces of her sisters in arms, the many different Valkryie maidens who did not hold a blood relation to her. Names tried to come and go, Silmeria picking out three amongst them that hurt her the most to remember. But she couldn’t fathom the reason behind that particular pain, and all too soon she was lost to the face of another. That of her liege, the King of all the heavens. Odin was not among the most friendly of faces, but he was the one who had the most impact on her immortal career. But there was much she still could not remember, Silmeria simply unable to think straight enough.

She was unable to do any more than that, Silmeria hearing whispers on the edge of her consciousness. She couldn’t quite focus to make out what was being said, the words that lingered just out of her ears’ reach, taunting her with the memories that they might have held. Thoughts simply too unclear, Silmeria’s mind had been dulled for too long, her many memories suppressed as a result of her injuries. By the strength of her pain, by the trauma and severity of the attack that she had once had to endure. Silmeria couldn’t imagine the strength that had taken, or just how she had survived it at all. For right now the Valkryie could not even remember the details of the attack, that and the resulting shock of it swallowed up, the recollection of the days that had followed her fall on the battlefield now nothing more than fragments. But that was nothing new. Silmeria had NEVER been able to remember clearly those first days that had followed after. She had had the pain medications and herbal tonics to thank for that, the haze that they had helped to induce, having left Silmeria incoherent for nearly a full week.

She had needed that break from reality. From the pain and the fact that it would take time to heal the worst of it. She had needed more than just time, many treatments being administered, dozens upon dozen of potent pain relievers and body numbing potions making up the reality that had become Silmeria’s unending days and nights. So constant had the pain been, that the fear on just about everyone’s mind had been that Silmeria would always be afflicted by it. She had actually expected to live out the rest of her life crippled by it, forever dependant upon the potions and various herbal remedies. Even if she had not, even if the pain would someday become manageable, life as Silmeria had known it was changed, her thriving military career over and done with.

For so long had that pain of hers persisted, whole weeks going by, the Valkyrie lost to it. Silmeria’s life had been in a standstill, the woman unable to do much, barely able to live, but also unwilling to simply lay down and die. It had taken time, lots and lots of it sacrificed for little real progress. It was a slow going road to recovery, but little by little, that pain that Silmeria still suffered with, began to get somewhat better. Life became that much closer to tolerable, and as the days had passed, Silmeria had finally been well enough so that a decision could be made at long last. It had been with the understanding that though Silmeria would never make a full and complete recovery, there had still been one last service that she was honor bound to give to her liege. Never again would Silmeria fight for Odin and his kingdom, never again would she physically see to the safeguarding of the nine realms. But there was another way, one last duty that Silmeria was still capable of performing, her body still viable as being something other than a Valkyrie.

The details of Odin’s decree were worked on and ironed out, Silmeria having learned that she was to be given away to some man. But not just ANY man, but a king in his own right, Rufus of Alfeim, the lord who ruled over all of the fae and that of the elves. That she would be given up as part of an agreement to maintain a truce between the two kingdoms wasn’t that surprising a decision. It was absolute truth that Valkyrie Goddesses were a high quality of women, who made for highly sought after brides. For their grace and their beauty, and for the abilities that a child of the Valkryies would inherit.

It was just one more form of duty for the Valkryies, the unenviable fate of those who did not die in battle. Silmeria had always known that the chance had existed that this fate would one day befall her. But Silmeria had thought, hoped, it would be far, far in her future.

She wouldn’t fight and rail against such a future now becoming her reality. She had understood, even accepted that this was fate. She might have even taken comfort from the fact that her marriage wouldn’t be to just anyone. That that union would help reforge an alliance, strengthen the truce between the two kingdoms. That tension that had started to poison relations between Asgard and Alfeim had been in need of an offering, a SACRIFICE to appease it.

Silmeria would be that sacrifice, her marriage to Alfeim’s King, meant to to make all the difference. In both sustaining a lasting peace between the two kingdoms, and in keeping them united against the ever encroaching threat of the Undead. It might have even have made all the difference in turning the tide of war to the two realm’s favor. The one thing in common that they, that ALL of the nine realms shared, was that of the threat of Lord Brahms and his people. His undead was a legion unto itself, the creatures hated and reviled, and persecuted by all.

Such was the open animosity and hatred towards the undead, that Brahms’ kind was welcomed nowhere. Yet such was their numbers, that never had a definitive blow been struck against them. They were like insects, no worse than, for they not only continued to survive, they did so by thriving off of blood they they murdered, thieved and manipulated for.

The undead were as different from the Asgardians as night was from day. Those stark contrasts were what defined the right from the wrong. Most didn’t question it, most didn’t wonder at why the undead were like that. And once Silmeria had been just another one of the unquestioning throngs. She STILL sort of was, although something had been changing inside of her for a long while now. The young woman had always felt herself to be a little different. That feeling was just strong enough that Silmeria had never truly fit. Not as a Valkyrie warrior, and not as a Goddess. That lack of belonging, that feeling that persisted, was it that what had left her so accepting? Of a fate that would have had most Valkyries running, their openly proud and defiant natures keeping them from going meekly off to their marriage beds. Because even at their most crippled, the Valkyries often resented being handed off like mere cattle.

But not Silmeria. There had been a calmness to her, an acceptance that had nothing to do with submission, the Valkyrie curious, a sense of anticipation suffusing her. She might have had even been looking forward to this next stage of her life. This change that would be so different, and so new. Not even the pain that had colored her every step and movement could get Silmeria to think otherwise. Because there was an opportunity for something more, a chance for her to find happiness. Even with the pain, that crippling, debilitating sensation having had plenty of time to have flared up by now. And yet, there was NONE of it.

She was puzzled by the complete lack of it, the pain not so much dulled as entirely GONE. It should have been impossible, and yet without it, there was nothing holding her back. Not even her amazement, Silmeria’s thoughts having then scattered at the soft thump of sound that was someone’s boot stepping down on stone.

She didn’t immediately question how the past and it’s memories could snap free of that leash that they had put on her. She was able to shake free of even those last lingering thoughts, her gaze focusing outwards to watch and see the figure that was approaching her.

That man instantly became the only thing that Silmeria was aware of, the details of his appearance commanding her focus. Large in stature, his was an imposing figure, with a body that was as tall as Lord Odin if not more so. It was such an impressive height, this man a being who was meant to dwarf all others around him, and Silmeria would not be the exception. Positively dainty in appearance, Silmeria could see how the man would tower over her in ALL circumstances.

He was big in all sense of the word, with thick muscular arms and a broad chest. A sleeveless green vest stretched tight over his torso, the revealing garment tailor made from the looks of it, yet still straining to cover even half of that amount of muscle and skin. That left a tantalizing canvas of flesh on display, Silmeria’s eyes drawn to all of that flawless, dark skin. That flesh color was one that complimented well with his dark hair, a brown that sometimes looked black In the dim lighting of the room. There was thick volume to it, and plenty of length gathered together to form one hell of mane. It had been spiked in places, seeming to obey it’s own laws of gravity in how it stayed up and moved about on it’s own.

Even without that magnificent head of hair, this man would never have been able to pass himself off as anything as mundane as a mortal. The dark colored skin would have thrown her, had Silmeria not been aware of his true nature already, his kind of people a pale skinned lot that had never known the kiss of the sun’s ray. His however was a marvel, that dark dusky color that marked him as something different, yet Silmeria wasn’t fooled for one second. Not when the crimson red of his eyes were focused on her, that dark blood color seeming to positively smolder with all of his lusts and his desires.

Focused on him like he was on her, Silmeria had reacted long before that smile of his revealed a hint of lengthening fang. Her mind kicked in a name, but it was instinct that took over, Silmeria reacting to the perceived threat of just who and what she now faced.

Brahms.

It was him, the vampire king in the flesh. The Lord Ruler of all the Undead, The Bringer of Nightmares, The Dealer of Death. He was also the very fiend that had been obsessed with getting near to her for far longer than Silmeria actually cared to remember.

In the seconds that it took for her to go from assessing his looks, to recognizing him as a very real threat, Silmeria had charged forward, the woman every inch of a Valkyrie that had spied her unnatural enemy. This went beyond the hatred of the races, Silmeria’s stomach cramping with unease. There was the unpleasant feel of her skin actually crawling, Silmeria recalling the tireless way that Brahms had pursued her. It was a pursuit that had cost her nearly everything, his undead minions responsible for all of her crippling and career ending injuries.

She neither had the time nor the desire to remember that particular incident, Silmeria instead lurching upright and forward. The thin sheet that had been covering her slipped off, Silmeria’s legs having to kick free of it’s silk like material. The bed beneath her feet was soft but springy, lending a real bounce to her steps, and more importantly giving Silmeria a boost to her height when she stood. She would take and use any and all advantage, Silmeria effortlessly running atop the bouncy mattress. The surprise was on his face, her momentum such that Silmeria easily launched herself AT the vampire king. She wasn’t capable of actually flying, but that leap was the next best thing. Airborne and hurtling towards him, it was Brahms who reached up and caught at her with his big hands. She ignored the feel of those hands closing about her waist, Silmeria too busy bringing up hers to do similar around his neck. But even that part of him was thick like the rest of him, to the point that Silmeria couldn’t reach enough around to truly do a strangle hold on the vampire. She still made a valiant effort all the same, her anger, animosity and frustrations all flaring. Her arms tensed as a result of the attempt, her scrambling, struggling fingers digging into his flesh as the woman attempt to find the purchase needed to rip out his throat. Silmeria glared into Brahm’s face as she did this, the inside of her thighs coming to cradle on either side of his waist.

She was a crimson reflection in the depths of the vampire’s eyes, Silmeria absentmindedly noticing that her blond hair looked especially wild and all askew. It lent a presence to her, made Silmeria look like she was some vengeful creature, the woman all feral and full of animosity.

The open desire and the naked lust of the vampire’s earlier expression had given way to one of amazement. He had seemed shocked as a result of her attack, but Silmeria didn’t try to analyze the reason why. She did note however that he wasn’t trying to throw her off of him, actually tightening his hands’ grip upon her waist instead. She didn’t like that, didn’t like him touching her. Not when it hit too close to home, reminding Silmeria of another time, a moment that was some memory in her near past. That time too he had clutched at her body, his hands upon her waist as the vampire had lowered his face towards hers.

She had to blink and shake her head in an effort to dispel the unwanted memory. Silmeria knew that she couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not by her thoughts, and not by the fact that Brahms’ lips were moving, his fangs flashing as that infernal fiend tried to speak. She barely registered his words, let alone understood them. But Silmeria could hazard a guess, certain that the vampire was commanding her to stop, and telling her that such attacks were useless against him. But the Valkyrie already knew that much, choosing instead to continue to vent her rage upon him. Because it felt GOOD, that anger that Silmeria had keeping her from realizing so many things, the pain, the fear, and the potential that she had to be helpless around him.

His crimson eyes then blazed even hotter, that red color an expression of both his thoughts and his feelings. He smoldered with an unholy desire, but more than that, there was the exasperation that came with the realization that talking was not going to do him any good. It was then that his hands shifted their grip about her slim waist, that impressive strength of his called into play to effortlessly haul Silmeria off of him. Her dragging nails gouged open flesh, his throat bleeding whole rivulets of the dark spurting liquid.

She didn’t seem to notice, Silmeria too focused on fighting. An incoherent hiss would issue out of her, Simeria finding that Brahms had bodily thrown her. The Valkyrie hit hard against a wall, but even that did not stun her, Silmeria already bounding forward, her fingers with their sharp nails reaching for the vampire again.

Slashing without even thinking about the absurdity of such an attack, Silmeria sliced her nails through now empty air. That fiend had teleported! It left her snarling, Silmeria pivoting on her heel as she turned about in an attempt to find her target. He was there by the bed again, the opposite side now, and wearing the weirdest expression that the Valkyrie had ever seen. On him, and on anyone, his crimson eyes almost astonished. She didn’t take the time to wonder why, her body coiled with her instinctive need to attack.

For one brief second, they locked eyes together, the two exchanging a stare. That crimson glare left Silmeria rooted in place, the woman cautious about approaching a vampire so thoroughly alert to her. It was only when Brahms suddenly grimaced, a hand going to his damaged throat, that Silmeria saw an opening. He seemed surprised and in pain at what his fingers had felt, the vampire actually making the mistake of looking down at his hand for one moment.

Distracted by the blood that now was on his fingers, Brahms almost hadn’t seen Silmeria in time. By all rights he should have died, the Valkyrie’s victory something that should have been absolute. And it would have been if Silmeria’s opponent had been anyone else save the Lord of the Undead. Her bare hands alone weren’t enough, no matter how great her desire was to beat the vampire to death with them. She had barely managed a fist, Brahms snagging hold of Silmeria by her arms. To be so thwarted in her desires, to find herself restrained by the vampire? It left Silmeria absolutely infuriated, a feral growl erupting from inside her.

Half trapped and made completely wild, Silmeria didn’t let the situation stop her. The fight within her flared even stronger, the woman lashing out with her both of legs, her right knee aimed at one weak point in particular. But that attack didn’t land, Silmeria finding instead she had been thrown again. This time down onto the bed’s mattress, her body bouncing hard in place against the soft, springy surface. The force of it knocked the wind out of her, Silmeria left stunned. No thoughts left in her head, only the rage fueled emotions, it was instinct that would have guided her, Silmeria ready to spring up in an attempt to continue her attacks against Brahms.

She never got the chance, the vampire king at last at the end of his patience. With that unnatural speed that all of the vampires possessed, the undisputed King of the Undead lunged forward, his full weight brought against her. Silmeria found herself pinned in place with the vampire king on top of her, his weight and his body pressing her down into the mattress. Straddled by him, and listening to his breath rasping out of him in harsh exaggerated pants, Silmeria should have been panicked. Any other women in her place would have, when faced with being held down by a man who had lusted so strongly, that in order to possess hold of her, he could and had done just about everything!

A memory then tried to spike, a far different kind of battlefield called to mind. The memory of that place fed into her anger, Silmeria remembering how she was first and foremost a Valkyrie, a supereme being that was both a warrior goddess and unflinchingly fierce battle maiden. Panic of any kind was that of an undignified weakness, one that had no place or fit in a Valkyrie’s heart. No room for it then, and certainly no room for it now, Silmeria refusing to let if overtake her. She fought it, and she fought Brahms, Silmeria thrashing about with her body, struggling to get her legs free of him. An arm raised, and an open handed slap went across the vampire’s face. Such was the force of Silmeria’s blow, that Brahms head actually turned to the side as a result.

For one second there was nothing more Nothing save for the setting of Brahms’ jaw, the visible clenching of his lip, teeth tightly ground together in an effort to suppress HIS growl. Her name still grated out of him, Brahms all but snarling the word. “Silmeria!”

That ended the frozen moment, Silmeria resuming her vigorous struggles. “Get off of me, you fiend!” She had then hissed back, her hand raising to slap the vampire across his face a second time. Her wrist was then caught by Brahms, his cruel fingers harsh about the bone, the vampire forceful in his efforts to keep any further strikes from being thrown. Silmeria’s fury knew no bounds at this, her one fist caught, but not the other.

“Abomination!” She added action to the insult, trying to hit him with her other hand. That too was caught in just as brutal a grip, the vampire wearing what might have been a merciless smirk as he had then pressed her back against the mattress. Caught in that unrelenting grip, the vampire stretched the Valkryie’s arms up above her head. Silmeria was effectively pinned and made to feel helpless, the placement of her arms one that screamed of forced submission. But her panic still didn’t come, Silmeria refusing to allow it to give birth in her heart. Not even as she arched and bucked against his body, her every struggle beneath only proving a lesson in futility. She wasn’t going to get free, not on her own, and Silmeria let out a scream of impotent fury.

Thrashing about even more, nothing could get through to her. Nothing save the sudden quickening of his breath, Silmeria having then noticed the blatant interest that was showing in his eyes. She quickly realized that the bastard was getting off on her struggles, and that almost caused her to go still, Silmeria burning with the desire to take that particular satisfaction away from Brahms.

She didn’t though. Instead she kept right on fighting, Silmeria attempting to buck him off of her body with her violent movements. It was a lot like hitting a brick wall, that stone like mass completely immovable. It was an unfortunate but true fact that it would take a far greater strength than hers to knock Brahms from his seat. That made Silmeria growl in mounting fury, the woman unable to relax. The first real trickle of a very fear gnawed it’s way into her thoughts. What would Brahms do to her, now that he had the Valkyrie pinned to the bed beneath him?

For the moment though, Brahms was apparently content to only just look at her. But even that was too much, that smoldering stare of his near unbearable. That crimson gaze made Silmeria feel unclean, that sharp focus so completely dark, devouring her every movement, every reaction, so that the vampire would miss nothing about her. Such an intent, unfathomable expression left Silmeria unable to read it. It built her unease, that unclean feeling mounting, the woman uncertain of just where the vampire’s thoughts lay. His were a veritable mystery to her, and the young Valkyrie would hardly be appeased to know that hers thoughts were as equally unreadable to him.

The exasperated Valkyrie stared up a the vampire above her. His face only served to annoy her, Silmeria exhaling a deep, aggravated breath. And with that breath, sound was restored to her, Silmeria hearing the rush of all manner of noise. The sudden volume of it, and the clarity left her shaking, Silmeria realizing that this noise had always been there, serving as a muted background to the fighting that had just briefly went on.

The sounds bothered Silmeria now that she was so keenly aware of them. She could hear footsteps, and the whisper of fabrics rustling. Voices spoke, their words sometimes about HER. Silmeria could not fathom the reason why, or how close these people actually were to her location. Not when their voices had an echoing quality to it, their words both coming from a distance AND sounding too close for her comfort.

The other sounds that accompanied the voices, let Silmeria know there was other thiings besides people around her. She couldn’t take comfort in that, not when she was most likely held in the stronghold of the vampire king, his undead minions all ready to stand as obstacle to her every attempt at escape. But there wasn’t just vampires and monsters about. There was the lonely howl of what might have been a wolf sounding in her ears. It was nearly drowned out by the buzzing of insects, those night thriving creatures chirping out an unholy song.

Any and all sounds now existed for her, Silmeria able to make out the sounds of a choppy and violent sea. Whole waves of it crested angrily against some rocks, the water slapping firmly at a sandy coast. Tree leaves rustled like the hoof beat of horses, her every sound heard at an unnaturally loud volume. Hearing all of this only confused her, more than half of these sounds being something that should have been impossible to make out. Even as a Goddess, Silmeria knowing that even with a Valkyrie’s superior senses, she should never have been able to hear half of what she now did.

Silmeria shook her head as though that could free her from this particular distraction. She needed to be analyzing the situation, counting out the number of people that she could hear moving about the building. It was a lot from the sound of it, but Silmeria wanted a concrete number. How many undead stood between her and freedom? How many did she have to fight and kill or sneak past? Silmeria couldn’t tell, a frown twisting briefly across her lips. Freedom had never seemed so out of reach, the woman wondering what chance did she actually have.

Odds against her thus, Silmeria’s blood still boiled for a fight. She was not even winded from her efforts against Brahms. Instead of exhaustion or that of pain, the Valkyrie actually felt exhilarated, her heart beating even stronger. This was a world of difference from the pain that she had known first hand, those weeks spent in bed, crippled and moaning, hurting from even the slightest of movement. Not even the tonics had been able to completely do away with and ease her pain, Silmeria suffering. Suffering in a way that she no longer actually felt, the woman letting out a pronounced gasp to realize what she had done, what she had felt. This was no medicine, and no amount of adrenaline pumping through her could have stopped her from feeling the debilitating effects of her injuries.

It wasn’t the only impossibe, but it was one of the most pressing. Silmeria wanted to puzzle out the hows and whys of her miraculous recovery, but everything was interfering, It wasn’t just the sounds that crept into her awareness. It was the tantalizing smell, a sweetly seductive scent that seemed to call to her. Silmeria had tried to ignore it, the woman not needing any more distractions. Her nostrils still flared with her attempts to breathe in more of that appetizing scent when something hot splashed against her cheek.

It shouldn’t, couldn’t be that hot, and yet it was, Silmeria feeling that liquid warmth burn a brand into her skin. Another splash hit her, and then another, lingering for one frozen eternity, before it smeared. Hyper focused on it, Silmeria felt every inch of her branded, as that red hot streak burned a path down her face.

That brand just narrowly missed her lips, that streak of liquid almost touching the right corner of Silmeria’s mouth. It was disturbing how it’s very nearness seduced her, Silmeria actively longing to reach out and touch her tongue to it. Her teeth positively ached with desire, Silmeria started to strain and arch beneath the vampire holding her down. His own eyes had narrowed, the crimson afire with some dark emotion that made it difficult to acknowledge the existence of. So she didn’t, Silmeria slowly but surely breaking the connection of their gaze.

Free from the compulsion of his eyes, Silmeria truly looked at Brahms. She saw his handsome face as a whole, took in the irresistible good looks that both soothed and tricked mortals into doing his bidding. That stark sensuality had been the end of so many, might even be the ruin of HER, Silmeria’s gaze lingering on his hard, unforgiving lips. His fangs had lengthened noticeably, the sharp incisors ready and waiting to bite down on anyone in reach.

Fighting alarm at that thought, Silmeria tried to look away. Her gaze slid here and there, trying to take in her surroundings instead. The Vampire king’s nearness, his presence was suffocating her, drowning her in bodily awareness. Nothing else existed, nothing save the man on top of her, and that was BEFORE she glanced at his neck. At his BLEEDING throat, Silmeria being riveted in place by the sight. Those deep tears that had been gouged into him by the Valkyrie’s own nails, the skin torn ragged from her earlier brutality. Blood welled and trickled out, staining his throat crimson.

His innate abilities lessened the extent of the damage, Brahms healed enough that he wasn’t gushing blood everywhere anymore. Instead there was that slow trickle, many trails collecting together, to form fat drops of blood that hung suspended between them. What felt like another small eternity must have passed, and then one of the lingering drops broke free. It’s slow, lazy descent splashed hot against her cheek. Silmeria didn’t flunch at that though, her eyes remaining open and staring enrapt at Brahms’ throat. At the blood and the tears, that flesh that had been made ragged by her own nails digging in and dragging. It looked like it HURT, the skin torn so raw, and yet it wasn’t the nastiest of wounds. Not to a vampire, and not to a Valkyrie who had been active on the battlefields. Silmeria had not only seen worse, she had suffered through it.

No wound, no matter how bloody and severe had ever held such a fascination to her. But this one now did, Silmeria almost hypnotized by the blood that continued to collect, the drops against her skin making her shudder in a way that had nothing to do with revulsion. Silmeria did not properly understand it, did not know why the blood had woven such a spell over her. Reality itself was affected, time seeming to slow, the many sounds that she had been hearing dulling to a subdued quiet. Why even Silmeria’s own breath seemed to stop, the woman aware of nothing but the fact that she existed. That HE existed, and that his blood was so tempting and close.

Unconsciously in reaction, Silmeria licked at her lips, which now felt dry like her mouth. She was still so focused on the blood, unable to note the way that Brahms; own eyes had dilated at the sight of her tongue licking over her bottom lip. What she did know was that another drop was about to fall, Silmeria almost moaning with anticipation at the idea of feeling it splash against her skin. His blood that was so hot, burned like a fever to Silmeria. She wondered why, a vampire’s blood normally cold unless they had fed recently. Had Brahms fed, and if so then just WHOSE blood was it that ran hot through his veins?

That troubling thought didn’t disturb Silmeria as much as it should have. Nothing was normal, not about the situation, not about him, and certainly not about her. Why else would she have arched herself upwards, straining against the very hands that held her pinned down, That cruel grip was maintained, but the vampire didn’t try to actually stop her. Brahms LET Silmeria press her front against his. His chest was marked with spilled blood, the copious amounts having fallen from the first intial gush of his throat’s wounds.

Not yet dried, that red treat became a stain upon Silmeria’s own dress, the woman continuing to press her breasts against the vampire king. This was no liquid warmth to burn her, the blood there having already had a chance to cool. Silmeria didn’t like that, the woman WANTING the heat that was escaping from Brahm’s neck. And with that want, a beat sounded, then repeated again and again, Silmeria realizing that she was hearing the sound of the vampire’s heart. And with each beat of it, more blood seemed to flow, his heart’s strong, steady rhythm echoing louder and louder in her ears. It was a seductive beat, Silmeria staring at the pulse in his neck as she licked her lips once more.

Her arch up didn’t put her as close as she would have liked, Silmeria now frowning. She again strained against the hands that held her wrists captive, and suddenly just like that, she was free. Too taken with his blood flow, Silmeria didn’t stop to think, to wonder why he had released her from his grasp. Nor did she bother to ask herself just why that man was holding himself absolutely still. He was still situated a top her though, but there was enough freedom now to move, the woman shifting closer, her hand reaching for his hair. It’s spiky styled strands tickled oddly against her palm, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. Certainly it wasn’t enough to get her to stop, Silmeria stroking over his hair again. Over and over, and then down, her hand tangling through the thick strands of it, so that the Valkyrie could grip the vampire by the nape of his neck.

With that grip secured, Silmeria had hauled herself upright, her face then burying itself in the side of his neck. Her nostrils had started flaring, Silmeria inhaling the aromatic scent of his blood. THIS is what she desired, what was making her so hungry, the scent such that Silmeria likened Brahms’ blood to the sweetest of ambrosia. She trembled then with excitement, both her hands on him, fingers actually shaking as they touched to and examined the damaged mess that the woman had made of his throat. The blood there was there so fresh, so hot and so slick, that it made Silmeria moan with the fiercest of need. She grazed and stroked her fingers over that damaged flesh, so that the blood would soak and stick to her skin. With that gathered taste on her fingers’ tips, Silmeria brought them close to touch her lip. And THAT is when she truly noticed her nails.

Far longer than was natural, and currently tipped with a man’s blood, these were not the nails of a Valkyrie. Or even that of a mortal woman. Curving like claws, and looking dangerous and sharp, Silmeria recognized them for what they were. A vampire’s claws. Her nostrils flared with her alarm, the dismayed breath unable to keep her strongest desire at bay. A rumble of protest sounded from deep within her, urging Silmeria to taste the blood that she had gathered on her fingertips. She ignored it, a horror growing within her as Silmeria began to fully process the oddities of her awakening.

The speed that she had moved with, the sounds that she had heard, the lack of pain that she had felt. Her tongue ran over the tops of her front teeth, and it was there that she felt the pin prick sharpness of fangs. The dawning horror now bloomed in her eyes, half remembered flashes coming to her now in startling clarity. To a scant time of just a few days ago, when she had been nearly invalid from the pain, the herbal remedies barely enough to allow Silmeria to endure the ride inside the escort carriage.

Intertwined with that scene in the carriage was another memory, of vampires, of ghouls and that of the lesser undead. They had surrounded her, attacking with vigor, her armor shattered open to expose the far too delicate skin it had guarded. For one near endless moment, the two scenes then competed for her attention. Silmeria would remember the pain that she had felt as her back had been torn open by cruel claws, remember the sight of her own blood splattering every which way on the ground around her. Most of all Silmeria remembered the struggle to remain upright, to hold onto her sword, the undead converging on her the instant that Silmeria had gone down for good.

These debilitating memories, both brought to mind the crippling pain that Silmeria had slowly been learning to tolerate. She turned from one vivid recollection to another, until ultimately, the memory of her time in the carriage won precedence over that of the battlefield. Silmeria lost herself completely to that recollection, of how neither she nor her sister had been pleased with the number of men and women assigned to accompany them on their journey. The numbers had been far too little for them to truly be safe in the event of an ambush. And yet they had all foolishly persisted, the hope held that such a small party would give off the illusion that this group wasn’t something worthy of the undead’s notice.

Even understanding the idea of that, Silmeria had still been uneasy. She had tried her best to keep her doubts and her worries from her sister, Lenneth. That she had succeeded at that much was not so much attributed to Silmeria, but to the feeling in the air. There had been too many troubling signs, what with the sky clouded over, the sun blocked completely from their view by the storm that was ever so present a threat. And still they had persisted in continuing the mission, worried that this might be their one and only chance to spirit Silmeria away to safety. Her sister Hrist and her einherjar has devoted days to the endeavor, the Valkyrie and her soldiers leading the undead on the most important of chases, slyly guiding them further and further away from the lands around castle Valhalla.

The vampires and their undead soldiers might have been far from the castle, and from the Valkyrie’s entourage, but not from Silmeria’s thoughts. Lodged firmly in place, her heart had been troubled, both by the undead and by the thought of their leader. That king of theirs, Brahms, the vampire that had so doggedly pursued her. Just his name alone, just the thought of it, was enough to send shivers down Silmeria’s spine. The woman could remembered clutching at her hands, holding them together in a silent prayer.

Did her prayers have any effect? No, of course not. Brahms was too determined, his every encounter with Silmeria having served to only deepen the vampire lord’s obsession with the woman. Such was his interest, that Silmeria had often wondered if escape had even been possible. She had especially wondered that on the day that had turned out to be as dark as it had. And even with that sky as portent for danger, Silmeria had still tried to stay optimistic, to hope for the best possible out come. It had been foolish, Silmeria now knowing how stupid and vain a hope it had been. There was no way to avoid him, no way to escape Brahms and his vampires.

What might as well have been an army of them, had lain in wait for Silmeria and her escort, the vampires then descending upon them like a tsunami’s wave. Everyone would become engulfed in the fighting, Silmeria losing sight of her sister Lenneth, and that of the other Valkyries. As the vampires had overwhelmed the einherjar, never had Silmeria felt as helpless as she had then, able to only watch as her allies had been slaughtered. Many had screamed at their end, their throats ending up torn out, their blood and their bodies littering the ground around Silmeria’s carriage.

Even Silmeira had screamed, crying out for her sister. It had amounted to nothing, Lenneth having been too busy and too far away. She had tried to make up the distance, but for every step she would gain, a vampire would then push the Valkyrie back several more.

Instead it had been left to the einherjar to try and come to Silmeria’s aid. But most would be slaughtered with ease, their killers then surrounding her carriage. The doors had been locked, for all the good that it would do her. Silmeria having known that the vampires could and would use brute strength to tear off the doors. She hadn’t been content to just sit there and wait like a readily available target, Silmeria instead fumbling about the seat for any and everything that could be used as a weapon. She had been prepared to fight, though there had been little she could have actually done. Not so long as she had been drugged up on potions and afflicted with so much of that debilitating pain. And still Silmeria had been determined, the woman not wanting to be taken so easily.

Miracously her hand closed around one bottle in particular. It was pure chance, and yet Silmeria had fumbled the cap off, just in time to give the first of the vampires who had dared to lean inside her carriage’s window, a face full of the bottle’s holy water. Silmeria would never forget the stench of the vampire’s burning flesh, and the pained howls that the creature had let out as his skin had began to peel off. It had left the vampire distracted enough for an einherjar to then end his pain with a quick beheading.

Silmeria would nearly jump in fright, her heart’s beat in her throat, when the door opposite her was ripped off the carriage. For one lone instant, a tall, broad chest vampire had stood in the shadows. Crimson eyes had stared at her, leaving Silmeria to shrink back against the seat. She had thought it was the vampire king himself, come to collect her personally. His hand had then extended towards her, palm up as though he had expected Silmeria to just give in and take it.

She had been shaking her head no, lips curling back to bare her teeth in a feral protest when a spear had slammed through to the front of the vampire’s chest. The ease in which the vampire had died had comforted Silmeria, the woman having then realized that it wasn’t Brahms after all. But there had been no time to relax, the einherjar that had killed the vampire, moving to engage another.

Silmeria had understood that she had been nothing more than a sitting target inside the carriage. And yet she had also known that it had been too risky to leave, to walk amongst the vampires in the midst of their killing spree. She had truly felt helpless then, and that was before the next vampire had reached into the carriage, and had grabbed hold of her arms before Silmeria could properly react.

The only thing that had been left to her to do had been to scream, Silmeria having shouted for her sister as she had feebly pounded her fists against the chest of her captor. She had been dragged out the window, the vampire having shown little true care to how he had treated her.

There hadn’t even been time to look for her sister amidst the fighting, the vampire having held Silmeria close as he had teleported them away. It had been a jarring experience, that teleportation. The world had spun dizzily about her, reality’s many colors then blurring together. As suddenly as it had begun, it had been over, Silmeria and the vampire who had still had a hold of her, having arrived at the make shift camp that the undead had set up in the Forest of Spirits.

Brahms had been waiting for her, the man visibly shaking with his impatience. He hadn’t been able to remain still, instead pacing about a path that had had been trampled into existence by his booted feet. Brahms wouldn’t relax until Silmeria had been presented before him, and even then the vampire lord had not cracked a smile. Instead he had been rife with tension, that expression of his so solemn and so serious. Silmeria had tried not to tremble before him, holding her head steady as she had locked her eyes with his. That had proven to be a mistake, the only one she had been given the chance to make. Those crimson colored eyes had been so compelling, his stare muddling her thoughts, letting loose an enchantment about her. One that Silmeria had been ill equipped to deal against. Under that compulsion, aided and abetted by the pain and the herbal tonics within her, Silmeria’s already weakened mind had dulled further. That proud strength of will, that and the fierce determination of a Valkyrie, all of it had meant nothing under the combined onslaught of Brahms’s charisma and Silmeria’s own immense pain. Her breaking had been unavoidable, the only thing that had remained in question had been how quickly Brahms could strip the valkyrie of the last of her mental defenses.

She hadn’t been able to fight him in this, not head on and not in her current condition. Silmeria had still tried to put up a struggle, her eyes having narrowed to focus on a point somewhere above the vampire’s head. Brahms hadn’t been content to be ignored by Silmeria, his large meaty hand reaching to grasp hold of her chin. With a gentle but firm insistence, Brahms had guided her gaze back towards his, the crimson color soon becoming the only thing that she had been able to focus on. Vaguely she had been aware of him speaking, but the words had all been nothing but soft whispers urging her to give in. Silmeria had tried to resist that seductive command, knowing that she had to last long enough for the possibility of her sister Lenneth arriving to rescue her.

“Submit to me….” Brahms had urged her, and something inside her had rebelled at that very thought. He had had no right to demand her obedience in this, in ANY moment! She had tried to jerk free of his grip, but his fingers had tightened on her chin. Other commands had come, Brahms never having lost his patience, even as she had hissed and bore her teeth at him. Silmeria had cursed him, had actually reached up to grab at his wrist in an attempt to pull his hand free of her.

But the world around them had been in the slow midst of fading, the circling vampires that had all stood watch having become mere shadows. It had been as though Silmeria and Brahms had been on a stage, with the lights having grown dim all around them so that only the crimson glow of his eyes remained. She hadn’t been able to keep from losing herself into that glow, Silmeria’s growled out threats dying mid gasp as fangs had sank into her neck. She hadn’t even been aware of Brahms having drawn her into his embrace, Silmeria not even feeling his breath on her skin as his fangs had pierced her flesh.

The last of her fight had erupted out of her once he had bit her, Brahms right arm going around her waist. He had hauled her up against him, settling her softness against his solid mass, her body actually attempting to go pliant. Her body had wanted to give in to the pleasurable feel of Brahms’ bite, having wanted to sink into oblivion that he had offered her as he had been draining her blood. Silmeria had attempted one last resistance, stamping her foot down on his. Her soft soled slippers had no impact on his boot, and in desperation Silmeria had ended up beating her fists against him. Her struggles had made the pleasure turn to pain, Brahms having turned savage at her neck as he had growled at Silmeria in warning. She hadn’t cared, still fighting even as each blow had grown slower, weaker, Silmeria’s mind turning sluggish.

As he had fed, his voice had whispered in her mind, urging her to give up that last bit of her control. Silmeria had hung on by a sliver thin line, one that had been fraying in the center at Brahms’ continued persistence. And when it had finally snapped, the woman had gone limp in his arms, a moan escaping her as she had given herself over to the feeding. Silmeria had soon after lost control of her legs, needing Brahms support to stay upright. She had known then that she had been dying, and not even that of her sister’s scream could have brought Silmeria back from the abyss.

Her memories were confused over what had happened next, a hot liquid being poured down her throat. She could remember Brahms’ voice, not so much urging as commanding her to drink. Silmeria hadn’t even been aware of what that liquid had been, or where that it had been coming from. But those first mouthfuls were like acid, burning their way down her throat as Silmeria had inadvertently swallowed. Even that had soon changed, the liquid holding a plethora of nutrients that had made her greedy for it. There was life in that drink, salvation, hers. And so Silmeria had drank, aware of nothing but that of her need to survive.

It had been all too similar in feeling and need to the thirst that had taken hold of her just seconds ago. A thirst that remained, that left her mouth dry and aching. But Silmeria had no desire to drink, staring instead absolutely horrified at the blood that was trickling out of Brahms’ many throat wounds. The allure that it had first held for her had turned to disgust, Silmeria shaking violently. Her hand was still clutching at Brahms hair, the girl clinging to him like he was the only support she still had left. The vampire lord hadn’t even noticed the change in her, an eager moan escaping him.

“Do not stop Silmeria.” Brahms’ tone was husky, his large hand cupping the back of her head as he attempted to push her face closer to his neck. The thumping of his pulse was louder yet, sounding very much like thunder in her ears. The scent which had been so appetizing before, now made Silmeria want to retch. “Drink from me…”

Silmeria knew that Brahms would like that if she did. It would secure his hold on her, and damn her soul in the process. A moan escaped her then, but it was not one born out of pleasure. It was despair, and that emotion reached through the haze that Brahms had surrounded himself in. He began to shift about, and she had reacted to his movement, pushing and shoving at his chest. Silmeria had desperately wanted him off her BEFORE she gave in to the urge to start screaming.

“Silmeria? What’s wrong?”

He wasn’t moving as fast or as far as she would have liker, Brahms actually gripping hold of her arms to keep Silmeria rooted on the bed before him. She began to struggle harder, another hiss escaping her. It was better than the sob that had wanted to come out, Silmeria at last raising her eyes to meet his. Her anger clashed with the worried look in Brahms’ gaze, and then she was growling at him.

“What have you done?!” She quickly shook her head, wild wisps of blond hair falling across her eyes. She would flinch when Brahms had attempted to brush it back, Silmeria glaring at him as he went still. “How could you?!”

“How could I not?” He was calm as he had retorted with that, speaking as though what he had said had all the rational in the world. Perhaps to Brahms it did, the vampire feeling as though his actions were justified. With that irritatingly calm manner, the vampire Lord had continued with only the slightest hint of agitation tainting in his voice. “How could I do anything but act when you were about to be given away. Given to another man, an undeserving fool?”

“Lord Rufus is a good man.” She was shaking with her anger, her breath hissing out of her as Silmeria spoke. “A kind man, a just man. He would have…” She trailed off mid retort, anger spiking in her eyes at the way that Brahms had just openly laughed.

“He would have what?” Brahms prodded at her silence. “Would he have made you happy? Made your life fulfilling?”

She tried not to hesitate, to instead sound sure of her answer. “Yes.” She was anything but sure. Her only certainty had been that the marriage would have been for the good of Asgard, relations strengthened between the two realms. Good would have come from the union, even if Silmeria herself might have never learned to love Rufus, or never even come close to being happy with her new life and her duty.

“You lie.” Brahms sounded certain of that, even as she continued to shake her head no. “To me, and to yourself. You’d never be happy with him, never find fulfillment at some elf’s side.”

“So you what? Acted on my best interest?” She demanded, and he actually nodded, gripping tighter hold of her two arms. “You’ve turned me into a monster!” She snapped, struggling to get free. “You’ve made me into a thing that feeds on the life of others. The very creatures that I am sworn to exterminate. The fiend that….”

“I’ve given you new life!” Brahms roared over her voice. “I’ve given you purpose, the chance to find reason and happiness.”

“As if I could ever be happy like this!” Silmeria screamed back, her voice just as loud as his. “You think there is joy in killing others? In ending a person’s life to further my own?”

“There is more to a vampire’s life than that.” Brahms protested, but she shook her head no. “There is!” He insisted. “I know this will be a difficult time for you, for us. You need a period of adjustment, but eventually you will see. This was the best course for you.”

“You’ve given me a death sentence!” Silmeria snapped. “My sisters will not tolerate my existence, any more than they will tolerate yours. It would have been a mercy for you to have killed me quick, rather than let me know of such torture, such misery.”

“I would sooner rip out my own heart, than let you die.” Brahms retorted. “And do you know and understand why?” She didn’t, and it showed, Brahms’ bruising grip pulling her closer so that he could bring his lips onto hers. “Because you are mine.”

She broke the kiss with a hiss, almost snapping her teeth at his lips. But she didn’t want to risk the chance of tasting his blood, of getting any more of that foul concoction into her system. “You overbearing, possessive Neanderthal! I am not yours! I will never be yours, no matter what you do to me!”

“You feel the connection between us. I know you do.” Brahms had insisted, hardly deterred by her words. “It’s existence has been established since the time of our first meeting, though we have both fought against it. We are the same Silmeria…the same sides of a soul, beings who shouldn’t exist apart from one another.”

“You are delusional as ever if you think to say we are soul mates.” She scoffed. “A Valkyrie and a vampire make for mortal enemies, NOT love matches.”

“Once I would have agreed with you.” Brahms retorted. “I could have killed you back then, and have never known what I would have been stealing from myself.”

“Your motivations are as selfish as they are insane.” Silmeria sneered. “You seek to secure yourself happiness at the cost of mine!”

“You don’t even know what true happiness is!” Brahms pointed out. “Your life as a Valkyrie was hardly fulfilling. You lacked a reason for your existence, a purpose.”

“I would have found that purpose at Lord Rufus’ side!”

“You wouldn’t have!” Brahms snapped back. “How could that man, that elf, ever hope to make you happy? To give you the kind of life that you need?”

“We would have managed.” Silmeria answered coldly. “Now let go of me.”

“I won’t let you go far from me.” He warned her, slowly relaxing his grip. She immediately shot out from under him, fleeing to the farthest corner of the room. He turned just as fast as Silmeria had, his watchful eyes marking every inch of her progress. His unsettling gaze stayed on her, Silmeria trying to ignore the way that he continued to look at her, reaching up with her still shaking hands in an attempt to try and wipe off the blood smears sticking to her face. Even once those streaks of blood were gone, Silmeria continued to rub at her cheeks, that skin feeling as though it could never get clean again

.

“Stop that.” Brahms grumbled an order. “You only serve to irritate your skin.”

She ignored him, continuing her rubbing motions. She wanted the blood gone, from her hands, from her dress, from her SOUL. Would a bath even be enough to get her that clean feeling ever again? Silmeria doubted it. Not when her very insides had been tainted by Brahms’s blood, her core more vampire than Valkyrie now.

~It’s just not fair.~ She thought to herself. Her future was supposed to be so much more than this. She was supposed to finally find her reason for existing, her chance at happiness. Even if her match with Rufus might have never produced love, at least there would have been other things to distract her. To give her purpose. She’d no longer have to fight, or spend an indefinite eternity out on the battlefield. Brahms had stolen all that away from her, and more, Silmeria realizing that her transformation had also stolen away her sisters.

Yet another thought had hit her, Silmeria’s hands suddenly stilling in place at her sides. Lenneth! What had happened to her? She had heard her dear sister’s scream, Lenneth having arrived just as Brahms had finished drinking Silmeria to the brink of death. Horrified, the young woman now met Brahms’ crimson gaze, the accusation heavy in them and in her voice.

“My sister, the Valkyrie, Lenneth. What have you done to her?!” She had to lean against the wall for support, a frightening thought going through her mind. Was Lenneth’s blood that which coursed through Brahms’ veins at the moment? Had Silmeria’s own sister’s blood been what had been tempting her to take a drink? Silmeria thought that she might be ill, and wondered if it was possible for a vampire to vomit.

“Ah Lenneth.” A faint twist of his lips, more smirk than smile. It made her want to slap him in an attempt to wipe that expression off of his face. “She fought valiantly on your behalf. But she was no match for me.”

“And just what was her fate then?” Silmeria asked, knowing her skin had grown even paler because of her fright and her worry.

“Fear not, Silmeria.” Brahms’ tone of voice was hardly reassuring. “I did not kill her. Nor did I allow any of my people to touch her.” She closed her eyes then, her relief making her dizzy. “Your sister still lives. I dare say she has returned to Asgard, and reported the happenings of your abduction.”

“You spared her in order to taunt my King?” Silmeria guessed, completely incredulous.

“I spared her because I knew that it would displease you if I had killed your most favorite of sisters.” He countered. Her eyes snapped open at that, the rage in them boiling over into her words.

“You think one life spared can make up for all the deaths your kind have caused on that day!?” She demanded. “The countless einherjar who have died, the valkyries who accompanied us that were slain?!”

“Necessary deaths.” Brahms retorted. “They stood in the way of what I wanted.” His eyes narrowed, Brahms stepping towards her. “And Silmeria, I ALWAYS take what I want.”

She turned to avoid his hand’s caress on her cheek, Silmeria instead stalking over to the window. With a perceptive interest, she noted how the window hadn’t been barred, though arcane symbols had been carved into the glass. She was no wizard to know what those symbols meant, but Silmeria could feel the power of the spell’s magic.

“I wouldn’t advise trying to leave that way.” Came Brahms’ voice from behind her. “The windows have been enchanted to keep a vampire confined within these walls.”

“So I am nothing more than your prisoner.…”

“Oh, you are so much more than that.” Brahms answered. Again he tried to touch her, attempting to lay his hands on her shoulders. “You are my everything.”

“I am nothing to you.” Silmeria retorted, moving away from him. “It’s best you accept that.”

“Never.” Brahms answered. She held back a sigh, annoyed by his stubborn and delusional response. “It’s not so bad…” The woman had turned at that, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “To be a vampire.” Before Silmeria could angrily retort, Brahms was continuing. “You no longer feel the pain of your injuries.”

She considered that briefly, noting there wasn’t even a faint lingering of pain. It was as though she had never been injured, Silmeria able to do the most exaggerated of movements with complete ease. “It’s not worth it.” Silmeria answered at last. “I would have gladly endured the pain a million times over to remain as I was.” He snorted at that, but he wasn’t amused. Neither was she, Silmeria narrowing her eyes at him. “Was this all part of your master plan?”

Brahms looked confused then, Silmeria sighing. “Surely you didn’t leave this all up to chance. My injuries were part of your plan to get close to me, to be able to kidnap me. You knew that Odin would send me away if I was no longer able to fight. You were counting on that, weren’t you?”

He turned angry then, growling aghast at her. “I would never purposefully do you harm. Especially to that extent.”

“But you have!” She countered, but he ignored that.

“What happened on the battlefield was a mistake. It was out of my control, those vampires who so injured you.” His look was savage then, the man unsatisfied with those soldier’s actions. “I have personally seen that all involved with harming you have paid. For their transgressions against you, they have died.”

“You expect me to be glad for that?” Silmeria asked. He blinked in confusion then. It appeared that he had expected her to at least be happy at that news. “You merely proved what a savage you are, what brutes your entire race is!”

“Silmeria…”

Again she shrugged off his attempt to touch her, Silmeria still so rightfully angry. “Don’t! Don’t call me that! You have no right to my name…to the intimacy it implies.”

“But I will use it all the same.” Brahms retorted. “You are mine Silmeria. Do not ever forget that.”

“You think making me into your own kind grants you ownership over me?” She demanded, hands fisting on her hips.

“You do not yet understand the ways of the vampires. I am not just your husband…”

“Husband?!” She scoffed.

“I am your sire as well.” Brahms continued without pause. “That implies certain rights, though I do not intend to force them on you. I will wait for you to love me back.”

“Love you back? That will never happen!” She retorted, dismayed by his calm smile. “You will learn first hand how difficult it is to gain the heart and soul of a Valkyrie.”

“You are Valkyrie no more.” Brahms reminded her. “You are a vampire, and first and foremost a woman. I think it will not be so difficult to awaken the heart with which you buried under your warrior’s armor.”

“You…you…” She was near speechless with anger, annoyed at his unshakable confidence. “Arrogant, overbearing…”

“You must be hungry.” Brahms interrupted smoothly. His fingers went to his neck, clawing over one of the scratches to cause the worst of it’s bleeding. “Come. It would give me immense satisfaction to see to this need of yours.”

She seethed with her anger, the rage upon her as Silmeria then turned her back on him. It was brave and it was bold, that refusal of hers a clear cut message that was apparent by her actions. “I will not feed.” Silmeria announced. “Never will I do such a distasteful act.”

“You didn’t find it so distasteful mere minutes ago.” Brahms reminded her, and she flushed then with embarrassment. “You were seconds away from taking my neck.”

“That would have been a mistake.” Silmeria hissed. “I was confused and disoriented, half out of my mind. It won’t be repeated.”

“You have not yet known true hunger.” Brahms stepped into her space, his chest pressing against her back as he then grabbed at her arms to hold and keep her in place. “But mark my words Silmeria. Someday soon you will. And when that happens, the call of blood will be undeniable, even to you.”

“I will truly be damned then.” She was sad then, not even attempting to struggle against his imprisoning hold.

“Not damned. But blessed. It will be the moment that your new life has truly begun…”

She said nothing to that, Silmeria keeping her own private council with her own thoughts. The former Valkyrie knew that her sisters would be coming for her. She also knew that they wouldn’t be able to revert the transformation that had been forced onto her. Her life was truly lost, forfeited the moment Brahms had forced his blood down her throat. But there was still a chance for her soul’s salvation. If she could only hold out long enough for Lenneth and Hrist to come, to end her life before she fed off of some innocent, she would be freed from this torment. She just had to keep from feeding, no matter how hungry she got, or how long it would take for her sisters to come to her rescue.

But the strong smell of Brahms’ blood perfumed the air around her, her nostrils flaring to take in that appetizing scent. Silmeria wondered if salvation wasn’t already denied to her. When already the blood held such a temptation to her, Silmeria wondering just how much worse could it get as the nights each passed. She just didn’t know, Silmeria shivering as the woman acknowledged to herself that she would have to call upon all of her inner reserves of strength. Maybe then and only then would she stand a chance at resisting the vampire Brahms, and the blood that he tempted her with.