Slaughter
Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal Dynamics
not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have
a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Kain . . . then he’d be
mine.
Warning: this fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy), blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets
you do not read this, it’s that simple.
Rating: R - NC17
Pairing: Kain/Raziel
Part: Three of four
Authoress note: I don’t think this fic hates me quiet as much as it
used to. Either that or I’ve beaten it into submission *shrug*
WARNING: Lemony scented.
Another
Long chapter.
* \/ * /\ * \/ * /\ *
Chapter Three
{Two weeks later}
Raziel wandered up and down the rooftops. He had
progressed much in the last week; his balance was near perfect now, although
not too quiet. His fangs had grown in completely and he was slowly getting used
to them and had stopped continually biting his tongue. Listening to the sound
his heavy boots made on the tin rooftops, he smiled and tensed, ready to leap
again. A shy glance over his shoulder to make sure his father -who was perched
on a chimney a little way off- was watching, and he leapt, eyes closed. A
sudden grip on his wrist made him open his eyes and he yelped. He’d misjudged
the jump and now dangled over the edge. Kain held his wrist, preventing him
from falling. With a slightly frustrated sigh, Raziel watched as his father
easily pulled him back onto the safety of the flat rooftop and smiled.
“Be a little more careful, and don’t shut your eyes when
you jump.” Kain smirked as his child blushed and could not meet his gaze.
Turning, Kain leapt gracefully back up to his ‘perch’ and
continued to look out at the city, while keeping an eye on his child’s antics.
He smirked wider, watching as Raziel scrambled up a chimney, only to claw at
loose bricks and land back on the roof. The fledgling glanced up at him and
blushed again, and he couldn’t prevent a smile. It was amusing watching as the
young one tried to impress him. Looking back out at the city, Kain’s smile
faded to a contemplative look. He had found he’d been feeling slightly better
as if late. The loneliness was ebbing away; he was thinking less and less of
the time before he was betrayed, the time when, for a short period, he had been
happy, and found himself focusing on keeping his small fledgling alive and in
one piece.
It was, at times, a chronic and perturbing job. But he had
to admit it was also a very pleasing distraction from his darker thoughts.
A clatter of falling stonework and a yelp drew his
attention. Keeping his child alive was easy enough; keeping him in one piece
however was tricky. He watched his child until it was clear that the fledgling
was fine before allowing himself to drift back into
his thoughts. Strangely - as of late he had been thinking much of Vorador,
usually in relation to his child. Vorador had made a good teacher to his
children and thus it was only natural for Kain to try and duplicate some of the
elder’s behaviour. But, oddly enough, not all his thoughts of Vorador had been
in that vein. Some had been on a slightly more personal note.
“You have
dark eyes,” Vorador spoke quietly, reaching out, tilting the fledgling’s head
to face him and brushing a strand of white hair out of dark golden eyes. “They
show what you have endured, but despite this there is still a childish quality
to them. I don’t think it’s innocence . . . I can’t
quite put my claw on it, but never lose it.” He paused. “It makes you very
beautiful.”
Kain had often thought he had seen strange and unusual
things, maybe even done some himself; but never had he met someone who had
lived through experiences like Vorador had, anyone who had taken such damage
and remained among the others, walking, wounded. He had, on some small level,
admired the elder’s resolve, his strength to keep living. Especially
when he had been raised by such an odd father himself. Kain had grown up
believing the legends of Janos Audron, that the great vampire had been a
bloodthirsty, almost unstoppable monster. But from Vorador’s descriptions,
Janos seemed reasonable on some levels, and on most he seemed amazingly soft,
unwilling to be the cause of pain even if he hurt himself by doing so.
“Killing
when he wasn’t hunting made him feel vicious and cruel even when defending himself.” Vorador shrugged. “He would always just run away;
he would say that he would outlast them, and that killing them would have been
heartless. He hated it when I killed to defend myself but . . . I just couldn’t
run away. I’m not a coward, never was.”
How could something so soft raise something as durable as
Vorador?
Yet despite Vorador’s obvious hardness and strength, when
he had risen fledglings he had changed. Janos had obviously had an effect on
his child. Vorador always showered his fledglings with affection, indulging
their every wish, every fantasy, doing everything in his power to make them
happy. He gave them everything they wanted, even himself when they asked. He
spoiled them. Yet by doing so it just displayed more of the emerald-skinned
vampire’s strength. He could sleep with those he cared for or loved, he could
risk the injury that could occur from such an engagement and he could survive
said injury. Kain doubted he would be able to; he was strong, but not that strong.
Then again, for Vorador that injury never came. Not one of his children had
ever tried to hurt him.
Suddenly, Kain found himself wondering if it might be
possible for him to like someone, possibly even to allow himself to care for
them and sleep with them as well; it had been far, far too long since he had
lain with someone who he . . . loved. Glancing at his child, now hanging
precariously from a thin chimney, while scrabbling to gain a better foothold,
he smirked. Something about the utter trust that emanated from this one, the
ultimate dependence on him, the unhidden affection and of course his own
curious emotional and physical reactions to said affection made Kain wonder why
he’d chosen to deny himself the physical pleasure of a person he truly cared
for.
“I have
waited two hundred years for the pleasure of killing you with my own hands...”
Ah, yes. Now he remembered.
It would end in tears, betrayal and blood. Those were the
risks that kind of relationships guaranteed. Strange that he would avoid those
risks at all costs while not avoiding so many others. But surely this one was
different. His child had no ulterior motive, there was no reason for betrayal,
and there was no reason for him to pretend he cared. Kain sighed loudly; the
affection his child showed was genuine, of that he was sure. So why on Nosgoth
wasn’t he doing something about it when it was clearly what he was starting to
crave?
Raziel scrambled upwards, forming claws biting into the
soft metal of the chimney pot. He hauled himself up, ungracefully onto the
edifice and sat triumphant on the surface. He had done it! After three hours of
crawling over rooftops, he had managed to get himself up in a position similar
to his father. Grinning with innocent pride, he glanced about, looking down on
the humans below. He wasn’t really hungry any more - he and his father had
hunted earlier, cornering a guard and taking him down. Raziel had smiled when
he found out his father had been right. Stronger humans did taste better, be it
physical strength, strength of will or strength born out of passion. Strength
was something to be savoured.
He tensed and leapt suddenly, landing a little way below
his father, smiling to himself with confidence. He dug claws into the soft
stone work and clambered upwards awkwardly. But he was much quicker this time,
having got the hang of it now, and soon found himself trying in vain to clamber
onto the softer metal. A claw gripped his belt and hauled him up, dumping him
on top. He looked sheepishly at his father, whose face was hidden behind a
curtain of ashen hair. His voice was so low Raziel had to lean forward to hear
it.
“Let’s go back,” Kain muttered, leaping down from the
chimney onto the rooftops. Raziel blinked, confused; he thought his father
would be proud that he’d managed to get up by himself, but he had sounded . . .
unhappy. Not only that, but it was far too early to head back now, the sun
having only just set an hour ago. Usually, Kain kept him out until the eastern
horizon started to glow, showing him new and sometimes frightening things.
Attempting to jump down but actually tumbling down, he got to his feet at the
foot of the chimney and bounded after his father, who was walking slowly in the
direction of home.
~
Raziel
walked quietly through the house. As they had arrived home his father had
wandered back into the room with the books and closed the door without so much
as a word. Raziel had turned into a different room, which contained just chairs
and a small table. He had wondered about its purpose but had forgotten what his
father had called it. He had curled up in one of the larger chairs and had
thought for a while about what could have been wrong. He’d fallen asleep quite
quickly, and had woken a few moments ago, finding a blanket covering him. Setting
it aside, he had gone to look for his father.
The corridor was dark, but he could see fairly well; his father had said
his eyesight would improve soon and he was looking forward to it. He disliked
the nervousness that the dark gave him. He entered the room he’d last seen his
father in. Slowly he looked about the darkened room, finding no trace. A single
oil lamp lit the room, and its flame was turned down, the dull light enough for
him to see clearly by. He easily noted that the room was empty; a disguarded
book lay open next to the lamp. The silence in the house was unnerving, making
him edgy.
He
progressed through the house, peeking in at each room, getting more and more
nervous when he didn’t find his father. Upstairs, he pushed the door to the
main bedroom open and stopped. A muffled, quiet sound disturbed him, like
something between a grunt and a groan. It was such a quiet sound, and Raziel
almost thought he imagined it; but then he heard a soft splash tremble through
the air. Turning around away from the bedroom he noticed the weak line of
candlelight cutting across the corridor outside the bathroom. The door stood
slightly ajar. Relieved that he knew where his father was, he moved towards the
door, but then he stopped. Kain had explained about personal space and privacy
to him a few nights ago, when apparently he’d broken the rules about privacy by
wandering into the bathroom.
He knew
that when people were in the bath, in bed, or clearly trying to be separate he
was to leave them alone. It wasn’t because they didn’t love him, it was just
the rule. He snorted to himself; he did not understand why there was such a
ridiculous rule. He had always liked watching his father when he was asleep and
when he’d walked in on him the other night he had realised just how beautiful
his father was. So why was there a rule to stop him from seeing that? He sighed
dejectedly; if that was the rule, then he would obey. But despite his mental
wrestling being over, his feet disobeyed and were carrying him toward the door.
He snorted again quietly. Oh well, it was a stupid rule anyway. He wanted to
see. Raziel reached the door which was open quite wide, and the bath was not
far from the door, giving him an almost perfect view. He held his breath,
blinking and peering into the flickering light of the washroom. Yes, he most definitely
wanted to see.
Kain was
leaning back in the bath, hair blood-soaked and hanging over his shoulders,
trails of blood dripping down his face and shoulders. His eyes were closed, and
Raziel had never seen an expression like that on his father’s face before. It
looked almost like he was in pain, but there was something about it was
different from pain. He was moving slightly, shoulders slipping against the
metal of the bath. Raziel frowned; it was difficult to see what his father was
doing as he could not see below the blood. He frowned more so when he heard a
hiss pass through his father’s teeth and saw his hand moving low down on his
body. Then that strange knowledge that had been popping up on occasion, like
memories from a forgotten life, rose up again. Raziel had mentioned this
knowledge to his father and Kain had been a little confused, but had admitted
that it was probably some memory from his human life. Raziel
couldn't see himself as once being human in any way, but if his father said it,
then it was true so he had accepted it easily. He had been human then, and now
he was a vampire. It was that simple.
Now
that same knowledge rose up quickly, and Raziel knew what he was watching. He also knew that he
shouldn't be seeing this. But he didn't move. He simply stood there, enraptured,
as his father moved, a strange heat pooling low in his belly, blood pounding
loudly in his ears. His father jerked suddenly and his breath hitched. Raziel
felt his stomach jump in response to that sound and a strange tingling start in
his thighs. His father really was beautiful. Kain jerked again harder this time,
sending a small amount of blood out of the bath and onto the floor. His head
tilted back, showing his throat, and Raziel felt his fangs lengthen as his
father’s lips parted letting out a gasp. Then Kain’s jaws snapped shut as if to
prevent any sound from coming, his lips pulled back to reveal elegant fangs.
Raziel leaned forwards a little further into the bathroom, trying to see better. It was impossible to see exactly what Kain’s hand
was doing under the blood, and Raziel wanted
to see. Kain let out a low groan. That sound made things low down on Raziel
abruptly clench. His pants were suddenly much too tight.
Raziel bit
his lip to stop any sound escaping. He didn’t want to be discovered. The
strange sensation and tightening had surprised him and had scared him for a
second before he realised that it actually felt . . . good. Swallowing, he
looked back. His father’s throat was still exposed and he felt blood hunger
stir inside of him, but he also wondered what his father’s teeth would feel
like latched onto his throat, in his veins. The moment the thought came to him,
he suddenly felt a strong want. He really did want to know. The heat in his
groin intensified. His father let out another low groan. Kain’s eyes were half
closed, lips parted again, face contorted in an expression that looked at once
like mindless pleasure and unbearable pain. What started out as a groan turned
into a strangled cry that was cut short when Kain snapped his jaws closed again.
Raziel had to bite down on his tongue to keep from crying out; at that sound, a
lightning bolt had shot down his spine, and the heat in his loins had nearly
exploded. His legs were shaking, almost enough to send him to his knees.
More blood
hit the floor, and the sound brought Raziel back to watching. Kain’s fingers
were clawing frantically at the side of the basin; his hips were bucking out of
the blood now, his eyes shut tightly against the force of what he was feeling.
Raziel felt his knees hit the carpet before he realised he was falling. His hand
went in his mouth and he bit down. His own blood filled his mouth; he tensed, trying
to stop himself from making a sound. Another strangled groan escaped his father
and Raziel decided it was the most wonderful sound, ever, in the history of
ever. His father’s unneeded breath was coming in ragged pants now, his thrusts
beginning to become more erratic as he neared his peak. Kain jerked once more
and then arched up completely out of the bath, red pouring off of him as his
head flung back. Raziel’s eyes widened at the sound that tore itself from his
father then. He had been wrong before; this
was the most wonderful sound.
Not a
single muscle twitched on Raziel as he watched his father slowly sink back down
into the bath, chest heaving. He watched for a moment as Kain shuddered before
he clambered ungracefully to his feet and walked forwards, heat still burning.
He was
going mad. Kain kept his eyes closed while he desperately tried to think up a
mental excuse for himself. He’d just had one of the most explosive orgasms he’d
had in a long, long time and he’d been thinking of something he really
shouldn’t have been. He was supposed to protect his child, not fuck him. Oh
gods, he really was messing this whole father business up completely. Even if
he wanted to he couldn’t ask something like this of a child, something like
this would terrify it, it would probably weep in terror. But even if by some
slim chance his child was aware and willing, he wouldn’t do it anyway. His
child would grow up one day; it wouldn’t always be this blindly trusting of
him, and it wouldn’t always be this . . . loyal. He refused to let another
person control him, let alone one of his own children. He shivered, feeling the
warm blood lap at his shoulders, but by the gods he had to do something about
this, he really would go mad, if he was made to feel like this for one more nig
. . .
“Fath . .
. father?”
Kain
stopped breathing. It was not said in the usual timid whisper or quiet laugh,
but in a low growl, and despite the shock Kain felt things low down stir
again.
His
father’s eyes snapped open when he spoke; they weren't sharp and piercing now
like they were so often; instead, they were fragile, fragile and shocked. Raziel looked at them for a moment
before leaning down to lap the blood off his father’s skin. He was frustrated,
he didn’t know exactly what he wanted other than he wanted to touch, to be
touched. He wanted that tightness, that heat to both go away and to grow more
intense. Confusion made his mind spin.
“Father,
please,” he growled, not really knowing why he was begging or what for.
His father
was suddenly standing in front of him, though he hadn’t seen him move, and he
found himself pressed against the wall of the bathroom, blood running off his
father’s naked skin. Both of his wrists were captured in one clawed hand and
held over his head. The other hand grabbed his chin. His father’s wet body
pressed roughly against his. Raziel whimpered desperately as his groin burned
against Kain’s thigh. But the whimper was silenced quickly as Kain crushed his
mouth against his child’s in a brutal kiss and ground his body harder against
him.
His tongue
thrust aggressively into his child’s open mouth, pushing against his to assert
dominance over it. He was in charge; he was in control; that had to be made
clear. The timid touch of his child’s tongue against his own made him shudder, and
he felt his control slipping. Then the automatic undulation against him made
him melt completely, and he knew he would never really be able to control or
dominate this creature, with his emotions getting in the way. This creature
would control him. Control him through his emotions.
Kain broke away so suddenly that Raziel nearly fell onto his face.
~
His father
had run.
After
Raziel had picked himself up off the bathroom floor and had got his brain
working again, he’d realised that he was now alone. A stumbling but quick
search of the house confirmed this. Kain had left. Taking a deep breath, Raziel
tried to calm himself and curled into his father’s chair in the room with
books. The shock and fear had driven all feelings of heat and tightness away
and he mourned its loss. Then as if in answer, a memory, now quite permanently
seared into his memory for all time, surfaced in his mind - the memory of his
father arching out of the water, rigid body shaking as the rivulets rolled off
of him and that sound he’d made as he threw his head back hard enough to give
himself whip lash. Raziel groaned, and his pants were suddenly uncomfortably
tight again.
He had to
find him.
The fear
mingled with the heat, making him desperate. He did not want to be alone, now or
ever. The fledgling vampires’ instinct that drew them
to their parents twisted and lashed inside him, telling him that he needed to
see his father now, to be beside him. The heat was fading again, becoming a
small incoherent sound at the back of his mind as instinct took over. He stood
and took a deep breath; he was going to break another rule. His father had told
him that never, under any circumstances was he to leave the house alone. But
now he didn’t care and he almost flew out of the doorway. Habit caused him to
scamper up a fire escape to the rooftops and he started running. Then he
stopped dead; suddenly he realised that desperation and want aside he had no
idea where to look. But he remembered when he couldn’t see what he wanted he
was to use his nose. So tilting his head he inhaled deeply and nearly choked on
the magnitude of scents that bombarded him. Panic flew through him and he
yelped. Then, forcing his mind to calm down and concentrate, he tried again and
was blasted again. Not knowing what else to try, he tried again and was once
again blasted but he caught something else. It was strong enough to let him
know it was recent.
“Father,”
he whispered to no one before he turned around and tore across the rooftops in
what he prayed was the right direction.
~
“Really!” The
woman seemed amazed. “You want me?” Kain nodded, hoping he wasn’t shaking too
badly.
He’d torn
out of that house as if it was on fire, leaving his child alone. He felt some
guilt at doing so, but knew that if he stayed he would have ended up hurting
him. So he had bolted. Amazed at his own awareness to grab pants on his way out,
he had slipped them on and dropped from the rooftops when he had entered the
slums. He found himself automatically wandering towards a street where he knew
what he wanted would be. His entire nervous system seemed to have gone into
hyper awareness, every little sensation or thought was enough to set it off.
His body was screaming at him to do something about this. He had to get rid of
this tension, this frustration. A meal wouldn’t have gone amiss either. So he
had gone to the place where he knew he could get both sex and food without
thinking.
For some
reason, the Serefan had turned a blind eye to the whore population in
Right now
he had found someone who he feared didn’t suspect the truth but knew it. But in
all honesty he really didn’t care as long as she didn’t make a fuss. She didn’t
look like she would . . . in fact she seemed almost thrilled. He shrugged it
off as a ‘kink’ a fantasy or some other human desire. He was surprised by the
truth so much so that he’d actually given pause.
“Very well,”
the woman spoke, “but payment.” He held up her hand when he held out the cash. “No, sir. I wish for you to kill me.”
He
blinked. The words were spoken flatly, without any hint to any emotion behind
them. But her eyes spoke of terror and horror beyond most mortal understanding.
He sighed; he’d met many suicidal before and had aided them. It was always a
free and easy meal. After a second’s thought, he nodded.
~
Raziel had
been wandering the streets now for a while. He knew his father was here
somewhere; he could smell him perfectly, even through all of the cheap perfume,
blood and passion spent. Briefly he wondered what on Earth these streets were
for, but found out the answer pretty soon when he looked into an alleyway to
see a petite girl on her knees in front of an aged human male. He frowned for a
second, then heard the mortal cry out, a similar sound
to the one his father had made, a mixture of desperation and relief. He
continued to watch as the man pushed the girl away roughly, threw a few coins
at her, pulled up his trousers and left.
“Why did
you do that?” he asked, approaching the girl and offering her a pail hand.
“It pays
better than tavern work,” the girl muttered at him. “You a
customer too? I charge by the hour, not the action.” Raziel just blinked
at her, and she sighed. “What do you want?”
“I . . .
I’m looking for my father,” he muttered, “have you
seen him?”
“Well we
get a lot of fathers down here, so you’ll have to be more specific hun.” The girl smirked, counting the coins in her hand. “Cheap
bastard,” she hissed after a moment.
“He’s
beautiful,” Raziel explained, not knowing what else to say. She snorted.
“We don’t
get beautiful down here,” she smiled, her first proper smile in a long time. “The
beautiful have no problems finding what they need.” She stopped for a moment at
the sigh that came from the one in front of her and looked at him closely.
He really
looked lost, like he’d been abandoned. Sighing, she moved forwards towards him.
Business could be good tonight, from the crowds out on the main street she knew
that if she stayed here she could make a fortune just with her mouth. That, in these
days, was a luxury. As the Serefan had grown in number in the city, business
was steady and safe, but lately, as the numbers fell, men were more desperate
and afraid and often took their frustration out on her. Many a morning she’d
woken in a tavern with bruises, cuts, the occasional black eye and more often
than not a busted rib or worse. She sighed again, looking away from the ‘boy’
in front of her as he shuffled nervously. She did not need to be helping some .
. . she stopped and cursed her maternal side for screaming at her so loudly that
she couldn’t ignore it.
“I’ll help
you . . . but it wont be free.” He looked up from the dirt-covered ground and
she groaned. He looked so pleased . . . he reminded her of her baby nephew.
“I’m
“My name’s
Raziel.” He actually reached out and took her hand. She blinked at this as he
pulled her out of the alley and onto the street. Many men had grabbed her
before, but there was something about this one.
“So what
does he look like then, this father of yours?” she asked after realising she
had no idea who to look out for.
“I told
you,” Raziel frowned, confused.
“You told
me he was beautiful, kid,” she sighed and paused for a moment, why on Earth was
she calling him ‘kid’? He looked older than her sixteen years! Shaking her head,
she spoke again, “What does he look like? What colour is his hair? How tall is
he? Does he wear distinctive clothes? That kind of things!”
“Oh,” Raziel
paused, thinking, “he’s . . . he’s . . . he’s just my father and he’s beautiful
. . . I can’t think of anything other . . .”
“Helpful,
aren’t you,”
~
The girl
whose name he hadn’t picked up let out a quiet groan as he pushed inside.
He felt
all his muscles scream with relief. His entire body quivered and his eyes
watered, blinking back tears of sweet relief. Kain moved. God he needed this.
He hadn’t realised just how tense his entire body had been these last few
nights, he’d let it get out of control and had almost snapped because of it.
He’d pinned his child to the wall, and had been a hair’s breadth away from . .
. He gasped as she tightened around him. She let out a small strangled sound
and he pressed forward harder, moving a little faster. How loud, he wondered
before he could stop himself, would his child scream? How long would it take
before he would hear it beg? He bit his lip hard, drawing blood as he fought
down the thought. This was ridiculous. His mind had always been a mystery to
him; the slight insanity had been something he’d gotten used to. Never before
had his thoughts disobeyed him outright. It was his mind, for crying out loud,
why could he not control it now? The girl let out another groan and fisted a
tiny hand in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. The other had gripped his
side, digging blunt human nails into pristine skin. Her lips wandered
delicately across his shoulder, blunt teeth sometimes scraping skin. He
shivered, and for a moment he saw a flash image. His child writhing and bucking beneath him. Those slender fingers tangled in his hair,
lips and teeth hungrily searching for a place to latch onto, fine fingernails
digging into his flesh. Holy shit. This was not helping, not helping one
little bit.
Opening
his eyes for a moment he looked down, hoping the sight of her would help drive
his mind into silence. Raziel
stretched out beneath him, arms held above his head, the white, porcelain
expanse of his body bare, the fine muscles of his abdomen quivering as he
arched upward, thrusting his hips against his father’s.
~
“Why did
you do that to him?” Raziel asked, making her frown.
“Do what?”
she snapped, getting impatient. They’d been wandering now for ten minuets looking
for this boy’s ‘imaginary’ father.
“Why did
you touch that man?” Raziel pressed.
“I told
you it pays!” she snapped, pulling, trying to free her hand. To her surprise he
let her go. “Touching people like that makes them feel good and it’s cheaper than
a fuck.”
“But how .
. .” Raziel paused “how did you know what to do? What he wanted?”
“Oh,
that’s easy.” She couldn’t help the grin. “You’d be surprised how happy a kind
hand can make a man.”
“Happy…”
he sighed.
“You know
I’m going to start charging you extra for all this . . . talk,” she teased,
leading him round a corner.
“But why
did . . .” Raziel started.
“Look,”
~
He was
close now, so close.
The girl
beneath him cried out suddenly, letting him know she was nearly finished, her
small hand still tangled in the back of his hair. Why on Nosgoth did people
always grab his hair? It was something that had always been done even when he
was young, and he had always wondered about it. He shivered as her fingernails
scrapped across his scalp and almost purred, but managed to stop the ridiculous
sound escaping. She let out a high groan and quivered beneath him, her hips
moving faster. Her grip tightened and pulled him down, twisting her head to the
side, exposing her throat for him. He couldn’t help the rather sadistic grin
that crossed his features before he opened his jaws and closed them hard around
her throat.
~
“Oohh”
Raziel nodded.
“Understand?”
“I think I
do,” Raziel nodded “but there is . . .”
“What?”
she asked, lifting another spoonful of the stew she was currently eating.
“You have
to have one man and one woman?” he asked, sounding disappointed.
“No love,
there are other . . . combinations.” She shook her head, never before did she
ever think she’d be having this conversation. It was like facts of life.
Raziel
blinked at Charlotte, who seemed to be thinking. He was slightly less confused
now. He knew now what it was that he felt and understood roughly why.
“So, who
is it?”
“Sire!” he
cried suddenly, leaping up from the bench and running forwards, making
“Hey!” she
shouted after him “you still owe me my mon . . .”. She
stopped dead. Sire? He had called out Sire? Either Raziel was royalty, which
was unlikely, or he was . . . “Shit,” she cursed, looking at the man who seemed
to be . . . scolding Raziel. It would have been amusing if she hadn’t been
shaking. Hair that colour simply didn’t exist on a human that age. She’d been
to church, she’d seen the murals the Serefan had painted everywhere; she’d even
gone with her father, who was a guard at the keep, to see the big murals there.
She knew who she was looking at.
Kain.
She’d
heard rumours that it was he who would have killed the Serefan Lord, but she
was sure he’d been killed in the last great legendary battle. She’d been told
as much by her father.
“This is
“Um . . .
I” she managed. Please don’t kill me,
please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me!!! she mentally chanted.
“Thank you.”
The soft words made her look up startled and she paused. Raziel was right and
the murals hadn’t done him justice . . . he was . . . beautiful.
“She said
something about money, and then . . .” Raziel was cut off by a sigh from his
father.
“I’m not
just paying for tonight,” Kain spoke, his voice harsh, and she nodded,
understanding that he was buying her silence, but why pay for it when he could
just . . . she mentally slapped herself, don’t knock it!
Raziel
smiled widely, he couldn’t stop himself. The sense of relief that coiled happy
in him was nearly overwhelming. He’d found his father. He glued his eyes on
Kain, focusing on each and every word, despite not actually hearing them; his
voice was so . . . so nice. He'd never noticed how wonderful he was before. Nor how nice he looked when he tilted his head like that. The
door to the tavern opened. Raziel heard his father curse; the men who’d entered
wore armour. Serefan. Suddenly the noise in the tavern
was deafening. He cried out, felt his father grab him and felt himself being
pulled away. For a moment there was a blind struggle and then darkness
swallowed him.
End Chapter
Authoress
note: this chapter was a bit weird. Not sure why but it was
^_^