Blood Ties (Chapter 3b)
Title: Blood Ties
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: R
Genre: AU
Length: Chaptered
Amélie slipped on her robe and had barely finished tying the sash at her waist when her father burst into her bedroom.
“Father!” she exclaimed, startled. “What…”
“His Majesty is coming here, to see you,” her father explained excitedly.
Amélie frowned. “What? Why?”
“Hopefully to talk about setting a date for your wedding,” her father grunted. “This betrothal has gone on for far too long. I have been made a laughingstock because of it. I understand the king not wanting to force the boy to settle down if he’s not ready but does he not know that he can continue playing after he’s married? No one can, or will, say otherwise. He’s the Prince, for crying out loud.”
A blush stole into Amélie's cheeks. It didn’t surprise her that her father thought it completely acceptable for Jaejoong, or any man for that matter, to take his bachelorhood activities into his marriage, even if that meant drinking excessively, whoring or taking a mistress. She was lucky, she supposed, that Jaejoong was not the type of man who indulged in that kind of thing.
“Father, allow me to get dressed quickly before the king arrives,” she began.
“I’m afraid that he’s already here,” a deep voice announced as the man in question strode into her bedroom as if he owned the place, which he technically did.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted, bowing as best she could in her robe.
She wrapped one arm around her waist, the hand of the other gripping the neck of her robe tightly. She felt entirely too exposed. The robe was thin, intended for complete and utter privacy. She wasn’t ashamed of her body but there was no way that she could feel comfortable being as undressed as she was in front of her own father, least of all the king.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, milord?” her father asked enthusiastically, ready to grant whatever was requested.
“As I mentioned before, I came to ask a favor of the young lady,” Gregori answered.
“Anything, milord,” her father assured.
“The Prince is still recovering from his…ailment and it’s become obvious to me that he needs more than just the food and medicines that he’s limited himself to.”
Immediately understanding the king’s unspoken question, Amélie bowed again. “Of course, my lord. I am glad to be of assistance.”
“Tonight, if you can,” Gregori added. When Amélie bowed once more, he spun on his heel and started for the door but stopped when her father called out to him. Turning back, he raised a haughty brow.
“My lord,” her father began. “I hate to bring this up again but I wonder if you could spare a moment to discuss the children’s impending nuptials.”
Gregori said nothing but he didn’t walk off either so taking that as a sign to go on, Amélie’s father continued.
“The children have been betrothed for such a long time, which is unusual for our young but understandable at the same time. I was just wondering if you or the Prince had some idea when we will finally be able to get this business over with.” He smiled widely, hoping that his irritation with the stagnant state of the couple’s relationship was not too obvious. “My daughter is a lovely girl who would make any man the ideal wife. I have made sure of it. I cannot quite fathom, therefore, why the Prince seems so hesitant to claim what is rightfully his. Does he find her lacking in some way? I am sure that what she lacks in some areas, she will make up for in others.”
Gregori’s gaze flitted over to Amélie, settling on her red, down-turned face.
“I am sure that my son is quite pleased with the match that I have made for him. The lady is more than suitable and will make a fine queen someday,” he assured.
“Wonderful!” her father exclaimed, genuine happiness lighting up his face. The thought of being the father of the future queen tended to have that effect on him. “Forgive my baseless fears, my lord. They are purely the concerns of a father for his beloved child. I mean look at her: she is breath-taking, is she not? And she has a fine form for bearing children. She takes after her mother in that respect.”
“Indeed…”
“Would you care to see, my lord?” her father offered. “To personally give your stamp of approval as they used to in the old days? Why the practice was done away with is beyond me.” He barely took a breath before he turned to Amélie and said, “Remove your robe.”
Amélie’s eyes swung upward, wide with shock and disbelief. “What? Father…”
“Now.” His tone had gone from sweet and genial to hard and cold in a split second.
Blinking back tears of humiliation and hurt, Amélie squeezed her eyes shut and untied her robe, allowing it to pool at her feet.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” her father repeated, sounding for all intents and purposes like he was showing off his prized mare, which was exactly how she felt at that moment.
“Beautiful,” Gregori concurred.
His gaze drifted appreciatively over her body taking in the smooth, clear, alabaster skin stretched over high, firm breasts, a tiny waist and rounded hips. Her legs were long and shapely, the kind a man envisioned wrapping around him as he sought his pleasure.
Had she not been betrothed to his son or had he been half a century younger and inclined to take a new wife, he might have kept her for himself. As it was...
“I’m sure the Prince will be pleased,” he murmured. Glancing over at her father, he said sharply, “Tonight,” and walked out, disappearing as suddenly as he had come.
“Get dressed,” her father ordered. “The Prince is expecting you.”
So soon as the door closed behind him, Amélie flung herself down on her bed and wept.
Jaejoong smiled tiredly as he made his way down the hall towards his room.
A hot bath was in order, followed by as many hours of sleep as he could possibly manage.
Days had passed since he’d woken up but his body was taking longer than he’d expected to fully recover from the effects of the poison. He’d almost died so he supposed it wasn’t completely surprising.
His cousin had burned at sunset the following morning, just as the king had decreed. Though he’d been awake and able, he hadn’t gone to watch. Knowing that Dylan had met his fate was enough for him.
In the wake of his cousin’s death, his uncle had abruptly departed for a neighbouring ally’s compound to “reflect on life and what it still held for him,” his father had said.
Jaejoong had no idea what had actually occurred since he’d gone to bed and woken up half a day later to discover that his uncle was no long with them, but he suspected that his father was behind it. He felt bad for the man - it wasn’t his fault that his son had made a bad choice - but Jaejoong didn’t have the strength to get involved and plead his case for him so, for the second time, he remained silently on this sidelines. He wished his uncle the best, though, and hoped that he would be able to find something worth living for.
Sighing deeply, he pushed open the door to his room…and froze.
Stepping inside, he slowly closed the door behind him and turned back towards the unexpected visitor on his bed.
“What are you doing here?”
Amélie looked down at her clasped hands for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
“You father sent me. He said that you needed me to help you regain your strength.”
Jaejoong stifled a sigh. “I’m sorry. My father… He has his way of doing things and I have mine.”
Amélie frowned. “You need to feed, Jaejoong. You’re far too weak.”
“I’m fine,” he said, brushing off her concern.
“No, you’re not. I can smell it, I can hear how slow your heart beats. If I can tell so easily, there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide this from your father.”
“It’s none of his concern,” he insisted.
“He’s the king,” she said simply.
He scoffed. “You don’t need to remind me, it’s nigh impossible for me to forget.”
Standing, Amélie undid the ties of the robe she wore, letting it glide down her body and land in a soft cloud of satin at her feet. She sat on the wide, silken bed, swung her legs over the side and laid back against the pillows.
“Come…” She held her arms out to him. “Let me help you.”
When her father had told her to get dressed, she’d assumed he’d meant to put on her usual clothes but shortly after his departure, her maid had come in and drawn her a bath, supervising her wash before rubbing her body down with fragrant oils. Her hair had been brushed to a sheen then styled, face lightly powdered. When she saw the revealing, sheer robe that the maid held out to her, she knew without a doubt that she was being sent to do more than just supply her Prince with blood.
She’d worn a cloak over the robe to provide some modesty on her way from her family’s quarters all the way over to the King’s section of the palace but she’d still felt like she was bare for everyone’s eyes to see. It was mortifying.
Now that she was here, lying in Jaejoong’s bed waiting for him to come to her, she wondered if this was what she should’ve done all along. She wanted to be married to him, did not understand why he hesitated no matter how hard she tried, but he was a man and men had needs, didn’t they? What did it matter if they consummated their relationship before they’d taken vows? There was no one else for her and there never would be.
“Lee…”
Jaejoong’s utterance of her childhood pet-name caught her attention. He used to say that Amélie was too wordy so he’d settled on Lee instead. She thrilled at hearing it, wondering if her plan, her father’s plan, was going to work after all.
Pity and sympathy tore at Jaejoong as he made his way towards the bed. He saw hope shining in her eyes when her gaze met his, saw it die when she realized that he was not going to grant her what she had secretly hoped he would.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked softly.
“Am I that undesirable to you?” she whispered.
“You’re beautiful,” he said honestly.
She laughed mirthlessly. “Beautiful…yet desire never lights your eyes when you look at me.”
He had nothing to say to that. He was sorry that he could not give her what she needed but he would not take what she offered knowing that he didn’t feel the same.
With a grunt of frustration, she reared up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him down on top of her. She wasted no time in gripping his face and fusing their lips together, pouring everything she had into her first, real kiss.
Jaejoong didn’t pull away at first and he didn’t find her kiss unpleasant either but when she took his hand and placed it over her naked breast, when he felt the sensitive skin beneath pebble against his palm, something in him recoiled.
Tearing his mouth away, he caught her wrists in his hands and held her firm.
“Stop,” he said plaintively. “You’re better than this. You deserve better than this.”
Releasing her hands, he stood and turned his back on her, taking a few calming breaths to collect himself.
Amélie bit her lip to hold back her tears, her chest aching painfully. Jaejoong would never know just how much she loved him, how much his constant rejection ate at the very heart of her.
“Here,” she whispered hoarsely, proffering her wrist. “Take my blood at least. You need to regain your strength.”
Jaejoong bent and picked up her robe then draped it over her so that it covered her private areas. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered sincerely.
He walked away, quietly exiting his room, hoping that once she’d regrouped, she would be able to leave with her dignity still intact.
For the second time that night, Amélie rolled over onto her stomach in bed and cried out her misery.
His body felt heavy with exhaustion, both physical and emotional, as he made his way down the hall but what he was about to do was necessary.
He didn’t appreciate having his room, his sanctuary, invaded at his father’s will. He also hated the fact that he’d used poor Amélie as a mere tool to get what he wanted. It would take his body some time to heal from the trauma it had suffered but he was determined to do it his way. His father knew that he had an aversion to drinking blood. At least vampire blood. He supplemented that with animal blood whenever his thirst got to the point where he no longer had a choice and he never killed the animal when he partook of it. He didn’t believe in killing for food.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he amended. He wasn’t a vegetarian, after all. Animals did die to provide him with delicious meat.
Sighing, he pushed open the door to the small, barely used dining room annexed off his father’s study. He’d spent the better part of the last half hour trying to track his father down and had finally located the man.
“Jaejoong.”
He looked up to see Gregori standing in front of a long, narrow table, his large body blocking the men seated around it as well as what they were so enthusiastically feasting on.
He took a deep breath and started towards him. “Father, I…”
“She failed, I see…” Gregori drawled.
Jaejoong stopped, eyes narrowing. “Don’t even think of blaming her. It’s not her fault. You know how I feel about this.”
Gregori cocked a brow. “She’s your fiancée, what’s wrong with taking what’s rightfully yours? Not to mention that it’s the way of our people.”
“I do it when I need to. I don’t…”
“You do need it,” Gregori interrupted sharply. He inhaled deeply. “I can smell your weakness. You can barely support your own body. Hunger beats at you like flies on a dead carcass. If only you were as smart.”
Jaejoong flushed. “Why can’t you respect my need to do things my way?”
“I simply don’t understand stupidity, Jaejoong, and that’s exactly what your aversion to the ways of our people is. This is natural to us. Are you so…” He broke off, biting back his words.
Jaejoong had an idea what he was going to say, though. He’d said it from time to time throughout his life, commented on the fact that perhaps his uniqueness wasn’t simply physical but more ingrained than they would ever know.
“I know what you think of me, Father,” he said softly. “Though I respect your opinion, it won’t sway mine.”
“Then you leave me no choice.”
Before he could even wonder what those cryptic words meant, his mind went blank for a second and his body began to move towards his father.
“No,” he begged. “Don’t do this.”
His mind was clouded, a kind of haze overtaking his thoughts making him have to think doubly hard to form his thoughts and words. Meanwhile, his body continued to do as it was told but he was no longer in command.
Whereas he’d never experienced his father’s cerebral torture, this one was nothing new.
It wasn’t fair that one man, already so powerful by birth and nature, should be given such destructive, manipulative gifts. Unlike Jaejoong, who avoided using his power to the point where he sometimes had to try really hard to access it whenever he was called upon to do so, his father wielded his own like dual swords. In truth, it was all he needed when facing an enemy in battle, whatever the call to arms might be.
Jaejoong could still think, difficult though it was with another presence controlling his body, but he couldn’t push his father out. Even had he been in top form, he would not have been able to resist the compulsion. His father was simply too strong.
When he reached his father, his eyes watering pitifully, Gregori stepped back and he gasped as he finally saw what had been hidden behind the king’s broad shoulders.
Six men, six of his father’s closest counselors, Amélie’s father included, were seated around the table. Upon the table, naked, eyes fixed straight ahead at the ceiling, heart barely beating, was the maid. All six men were busy greedily diving into their dinner, the sounds they were making reminding him of a pack of hyenas feasting on a very large prey.
How was it possible that he hadn’t smelled the blood upon entering? Was his body that worn out?
He’d wondered what had happened to her but hadn’t thought to ask. Now that he knew, he considered her fate far more cruel than his cousin’s.
He could sense no fear in her, though. He couldn’t feel anything. It was like she was…empty. Merely a vessel, which is undoubtedly how his father saw her. It was his doing, he was sure of it. Perhaps seizing her mind, blanking it, was a merciful concession, in Gregori’s eyes anyway. But if it was anything like what Jaejoong currently felt, a prisoner trapped in his own consciousness, she was probably screaming her lungs out in her mind. No one would ever hear her.
Even as he was guided into his father’s seat at the head of the table, Jaejoong begged him to stop.
“Please,” he whimpered, his hand moving of its own will to tilt the maid’s head to the side, exposing probably the only part of her body that wasn’t torn and bloody. “Don’t make me do this.”
Gregori walked up behind him and laid a hand on his head. “You are my son, Jaejoong. Sometimes I have to make decisions for you when you can’t, or won’t, make them for yourself.” He applied gentle pressure to the back of Jaejoong’s head. “Now eat.”
As soon as he spoke the words, Jaejoong’s mind went under completely. The scent of blood in the air was too much for his animal instinct and self-preservation to ignore and his fangs dropped mere seconds before they sank deeply into the maid’s neck.
From the very first swallow of that thick, life-giving substance, strength returned to his body, spreading throughout his veins, recharging his cells in a way that food and animal blood never would.
“That’s it,” Gregori murmured encouragingly, stroking his son’s shiny blond head.
Pausing to take a breath, Jaejoong threw his head back, breathing harshly, a low growl emitting from his throat. Blood smeared his face and dripped from his chin, bright emerald green eyes beaming from within the mess giving him a wild, beastly appearance that Gregori was sure would shock his gentle son if he could see himself.
Jaejoong was caught in the grips of bloodlust now, unable to stop himself even if he wanted to. Sensing that, Gregori withdrew his control, merely remaining a presence inside his son’s mind just in case his conscience managed to find a way to speak to him.
“Drink your fill, my son,” he urged, once again pushing Jaejoong towards his food. “This buffet is in your honor. Drink until there’s not a single drop left.”
Needing no further encouragement, Jaejoong dove in once more, biting into the maid so viciously that blood spurted several feet into the air, drawing appreciative laughter from the men closest to him. His left hand had woven into the girl’s hair, holding her head firmly in place, while the right clawed a restless path across her chest and stomach.
When he heard a sharp snap, a satisfied smile spread across Gregori’s face.
“That’s my boy,” he said with approval.
It was fitting, he thought, that the maid should lose her life at the hands of the one whose life she’d almost taken. An eye for an eye.
Jaejoong would not see it that way, he was sure. He would no doubt bemoan her fate and his part in it but he would deal with that when the time came.
For now, looking down at his son partaking in a ritual that he considered a sort of rite of passage, he had never been more proud to be his father.
Perhaps, he thought, they weren’t really so different after all.
A/N: Hope none of your have a fear of blood or anything...
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: R
Genre: AU
Length: Chaptered
Amélie slipped on her robe and had barely finished tying the sash at her waist when her father burst into her bedroom.
“Father!” she exclaimed, startled. “What…”
“His Majesty is coming here, to see you,” her father explained excitedly.
Amélie frowned. “What? Why?”
“Hopefully to talk about setting a date for your wedding,” her father grunted. “This betrothal has gone on for far too long. I have been made a laughingstock because of it. I understand the king not wanting to force the boy to settle down if he’s not ready but does he not know that he can continue playing after he’s married? No one can, or will, say otherwise. He’s the Prince, for crying out loud.”
A blush stole into Amélie's cheeks. It didn’t surprise her that her father thought it completely acceptable for Jaejoong, or any man for that matter, to take his bachelorhood activities into his marriage, even if that meant drinking excessively, whoring or taking a mistress. She was lucky, she supposed, that Jaejoong was not the type of man who indulged in that kind of thing.
“Father, allow me to get dressed quickly before the king arrives,” she began.
“I’m afraid that he’s already here,” a deep voice announced as the man in question strode into her bedroom as if he owned the place, which he technically did.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted, bowing as best she could in her robe.
She wrapped one arm around her waist, the hand of the other gripping the neck of her robe tightly. She felt entirely too exposed. The robe was thin, intended for complete and utter privacy. She wasn’t ashamed of her body but there was no way that she could feel comfortable being as undressed as she was in front of her own father, least of all the king.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, milord?” her father asked enthusiastically, ready to grant whatever was requested.
“As I mentioned before, I came to ask a favor of the young lady,” Gregori answered.
“Anything, milord,” her father assured.
“The Prince is still recovering from his…ailment and it’s become obvious to me that he needs more than just the food and medicines that he’s limited himself to.”
Immediately understanding the king’s unspoken question, Amélie bowed again. “Of course, my lord. I am glad to be of assistance.”
“Tonight, if you can,” Gregori added. When Amélie bowed once more, he spun on his heel and started for the door but stopped when her father called out to him. Turning back, he raised a haughty brow.
“My lord,” her father began. “I hate to bring this up again but I wonder if you could spare a moment to discuss the children’s impending nuptials.”
Gregori said nothing but he didn’t walk off either so taking that as a sign to go on, Amélie’s father continued.
“The children have been betrothed for such a long time, which is unusual for our young but understandable at the same time. I was just wondering if you or the Prince had some idea when we will finally be able to get this business over with.” He smiled widely, hoping that his irritation with the stagnant state of the couple’s relationship was not too obvious. “My daughter is a lovely girl who would make any man the ideal wife. I have made sure of it. I cannot quite fathom, therefore, why the Prince seems so hesitant to claim what is rightfully his. Does he find her lacking in some way? I am sure that what she lacks in some areas, she will make up for in others.”
Gregori’s gaze flitted over to Amélie, settling on her red, down-turned face.
“I am sure that my son is quite pleased with the match that I have made for him. The lady is more than suitable and will make a fine queen someday,” he assured.
“Wonderful!” her father exclaimed, genuine happiness lighting up his face. The thought of being the father of the future queen tended to have that effect on him. “Forgive my baseless fears, my lord. They are purely the concerns of a father for his beloved child. I mean look at her: she is breath-taking, is she not? And she has a fine form for bearing children. She takes after her mother in that respect.”
“Indeed…”
“Would you care to see, my lord?” her father offered. “To personally give your stamp of approval as they used to in the old days? Why the practice was done away with is beyond me.” He barely took a breath before he turned to Amélie and said, “Remove your robe.”
Amélie’s eyes swung upward, wide with shock and disbelief. “What? Father…”
“Now.” His tone had gone from sweet and genial to hard and cold in a split second.
Blinking back tears of humiliation and hurt, Amélie squeezed her eyes shut and untied her robe, allowing it to pool at her feet.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” her father repeated, sounding for all intents and purposes like he was showing off his prized mare, which was exactly how she felt at that moment.
“Beautiful,” Gregori concurred.
His gaze drifted appreciatively over her body taking in the smooth, clear, alabaster skin stretched over high, firm breasts, a tiny waist and rounded hips. Her legs were long and shapely, the kind a man envisioned wrapping around him as he sought his pleasure.
Had she not been betrothed to his son or had he been half a century younger and inclined to take a new wife, he might have kept her for himself. As it was...
“I’m sure the Prince will be pleased,” he murmured. Glancing over at her father, he said sharply, “Tonight,” and walked out, disappearing as suddenly as he had come.
“Get dressed,” her father ordered. “The Prince is expecting you.”
So soon as the door closed behind him, Amélie flung herself down on her bed and wept.
Jaejoong smiled tiredly as he made his way down the hall towards his room.
A hot bath was in order, followed by as many hours of sleep as he could possibly manage.
Days had passed since he’d woken up but his body was taking longer than he’d expected to fully recover from the effects of the poison. He’d almost died so he supposed it wasn’t completely surprising.
His cousin had burned at sunset the following morning, just as the king had decreed. Though he’d been awake and able, he hadn’t gone to watch. Knowing that Dylan had met his fate was enough for him.
In the wake of his cousin’s death, his uncle had abruptly departed for a neighbouring ally’s compound to “reflect on life and what it still held for him,” his father had said.
Jaejoong had no idea what had actually occurred since he’d gone to bed and woken up half a day later to discover that his uncle was no long with them, but he suspected that his father was behind it. He felt bad for the man - it wasn’t his fault that his son had made a bad choice - but Jaejoong didn’t have the strength to get involved and plead his case for him so, for the second time, he remained silently on this sidelines. He wished his uncle the best, though, and hoped that he would be able to find something worth living for.
Sighing deeply, he pushed open the door to his room…and froze.
Stepping inside, he slowly closed the door behind him and turned back towards the unexpected visitor on his bed.
“What are you doing here?”
Amélie looked down at her clasped hands for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
“You father sent me. He said that you needed me to help you regain your strength.”
Jaejoong stifled a sigh. “I’m sorry. My father… He has his way of doing things and I have mine.”
Amélie frowned. “You need to feed, Jaejoong. You’re far too weak.”
“I’m fine,” he said, brushing off her concern.
“No, you’re not. I can smell it, I can hear how slow your heart beats. If I can tell so easily, there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide this from your father.”
“It’s none of his concern,” he insisted.
“He’s the king,” she said simply.
He scoffed. “You don’t need to remind me, it’s nigh impossible for me to forget.”
Standing, Amélie undid the ties of the robe she wore, letting it glide down her body and land in a soft cloud of satin at her feet. She sat on the wide, silken bed, swung her legs over the side and laid back against the pillows.
“Come…” She held her arms out to him. “Let me help you.”
When her father had told her to get dressed, she’d assumed he’d meant to put on her usual clothes but shortly after his departure, her maid had come in and drawn her a bath, supervising her wash before rubbing her body down with fragrant oils. Her hair had been brushed to a sheen then styled, face lightly powdered. When she saw the revealing, sheer robe that the maid held out to her, she knew without a doubt that she was being sent to do more than just supply her Prince with blood.
She’d worn a cloak over the robe to provide some modesty on her way from her family’s quarters all the way over to the King’s section of the palace but she’d still felt like she was bare for everyone’s eyes to see. It was mortifying.
Now that she was here, lying in Jaejoong’s bed waiting for him to come to her, she wondered if this was what she should’ve done all along. She wanted to be married to him, did not understand why he hesitated no matter how hard she tried, but he was a man and men had needs, didn’t they? What did it matter if they consummated their relationship before they’d taken vows? There was no one else for her and there never would be.
“Lee…”
Jaejoong’s utterance of her childhood pet-name caught her attention. He used to say that Amélie was too wordy so he’d settled on Lee instead. She thrilled at hearing it, wondering if her plan, her father’s plan, was going to work after all.
Pity and sympathy tore at Jaejoong as he made his way towards the bed. He saw hope shining in her eyes when her gaze met his, saw it die when she realized that he was not going to grant her what she had secretly hoped he would.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked softly.
“Am I that undesirable to you?” she whispered.
“You’re beautiful,” he said honestly.
She laughed mirthlessly. “Beautiful…yet desire never lights your eyes when you look at me.”
He had nothing to say to that. He was sorry that he could not give her what she needed but he would not take what she offered knowing that he didn’t feel the same.
With a grunt of frustration, she reared up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him down on top of her. She wasted no time in gripping his face and fusing their lips together, pouring everything she had into her first, real kiss.
Jaejoong didn’t pull away at first and he didn’t find her kiss unpleasant either but when she took his hand and placed it over her naked breast, when he felt the sensitive skin beneath pebble against his palm, something in him recoiled.
Tearing his mouth away, he caught her wrists in his hands and held her firm.
“Stop,” he said plaintively. “You’re better than this. You deserve better than this.”
Releasing her hands, he stood and turned his back on her, taking a few calming breaths to collect himself.
Amélie bit her lip to hold back her tears, her chest aching painfully. Jaejoong would never know just how much she loved him, how much his constant rejection ate at the very heart of her.
“Here,” she whispered hoarsely, proffering her wrist. “Take my blood at least. You need to regain your strength.”
Jaejoong bent and picked up her robe then draped it over her so that it covered her private areas. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered sincerely.
He walked away, quietly exiting his room, hoping that once she’d regrouped, she would be able to leave with her dignity still intact.
For the second time that night, Amélie rolled over onto her stomach in bed and cried out her misery.
His body felt heavy with exhaustion, both physical and emotional, as he made his way down the hall but what he was about to do was necessary.
He didn’t appreciate having his room, his sanctuary, invaded at his father’s will. He also hated the fact that he’d used poor Amélie as a mere tool to get what he wanted. It would take his body some time to heal from the trauma it had suffered but he was determined to do it his way. His father knew that he had an aversion to drinking blood. At least vampire blood. He supplemented that with animal blood whenever his thirst got to the point where he no longer had a choice and he never killed the animal when he partook of it. He didn’t believe in killing for food.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he amended. He wasn’t a vegetarian, after all. Animals did die to provide him with delicious meat.
Sighing, he pushed open the door to the small, barely used dining room annexed off his father’s study. He’d spent the better part of the last half hour trying to track his father down and had finally located the man.
“Jaejoong.”
He looked up to see Gregori standing in front of a long, narrow table, his large body blocking the men seated around it as well as what they were so enthusiastically feasting on.
He took a deep breath and started towards him. “Father, I…”
“She failed, I see…” Gregori drawled.
Jaejoong stopped, eyes narrowing. “Don’t even think of blaming her. It’s not her fault. You know how I feel about this.”
Gregori cocked a brow. “She’s your fiancée, what’s wrong with taking what’s rightfully yours? Not to mention that it’s the way of our people.”
“I do it when I need to. I don’t…”
“You do need it,” Gregori interrupted sharply. He inhaled deeply. “I can smell your weakness. You can barely support your own body. Hunger beats at you like flies on a dead carcass. If only you were as smart.”
Jaejoong flushed. “Why can’t you respect my need to do things my way?”
“I simply don’t understand stupidity, Jaejoong, and that’s exactly what your aversion to the ways of our people is. This is natural to us. Are you so…” He broke off, biting back his words.
Jaejoong had an idea what he was going to say, though. He’d said it from time to time throughout his life, commented on the fact that perhaps his uniqueness wasn’t simply physical but more ingrained than they would ever know.
“I know what you think of me, Father,” he said softly. “Though I respect your opinion, it won’t sway mine.”
“Then you leave me no choice.”
Before he could even wonder what those cryptic words meant, his mind went blank for a second and his body began to move towards his father.
“No,” he begged. “Don’t do this.”
His mind was clouded, a kind of haze overtaking his thoughts making him have to think doubly hard to form his thoughts and words. Meanwhile, his body continued to do as it was told but he was no longer in command.
Whereas he’d never experienced his father’s cerebral torture, this one was nothing new.
It wasn’t fair that one man, already so powerful by birth and nature, should be given such destructive, manipulative gifts. Unlike Jaejoong, who avoided using his power to the point where he sometimes had to try really hard to access it whenever he was called upon to do so, his father wielded his own like dual swords. In truth, it was all he needed when facing an enemy in battle, whatever the call to arms might be.
Jaejoong could still think, difficult though it was with another presence controlling his body, but he couldn’t push his father out. Even had he been in top form, he would not have been able to resist the compulsion. His father was simply too strong.
When he reached his father, his eyes watering pitifully, Gregori stepped back and he gasped as he finally saw what had been hidden behind the king’s broad shoulders.
Six men, six of his father’s closest counselors, Amélie’s father included, were seated around the table. Upon the table, naked, eyes fixed straight ahead at the ceiling, heart barely beating, was the maid. All six men were busy greedily diving into their dinner, the sounds they were making reminding him of a pack of hyenas feasting on a very large prey.
How was it possible that he hadn’t smelled the blood upon entering? Was his body that worn out?
He’d wondered what had happened to her but hadn’t thought to ask. Now that he knew, he considered her fate far more cruel than his cousin’s.
He could sense no fear in her, though. He couldn’t feel anything. It was like she was…empty. Merely a vessel, which is undoubtedly how his father saw her. It was his doing, he was sure of it. Perhaps seizing her mind, blanking it, was a merciful concession, in Gregori’s eyes anyway. But if it was anything like what Jaejoong currently felt, a prisoner trapped in his own consciousness, she was probably screaming her lungs out in her mind. No one would ever hear her.
Even as he was guided into his father’s seat at the head of the table, Jaejoong begged him to stop.
“Please,” he whimpered, his hand moving of its own will to tilt the maid’s head to the side, exposing probably the only part of her body that wasn’t torn and bloody. “Don’t make me do this.”
Gregori walked up behind him and laid a hand on his head. “You are my son, Jaejoong. Sometimes I have to make decisions for you when you can’t, or won’t, make them for yourself.” He applied gentle pressure to the back of Jaejoong’s head. “Now eat.”
As soon as he spoke the words, Jaejoong’s mind went under completely. The scent of blood in the air was too much for his animal instinct and self-preservation to ignore and his fangs dropped mere seconds before they sank deeply into the maid’s neck.
From the very first swallow of that thick, life-giving substance, strength returned to his body, spreading throughout his veins, recharging his cells in a way that food and animal blood never would.
“That’s it,” Gregori murmured encouragingly, stroking his son’s shiny blond head.
Pausing to take a breath, Jaejoong threw his head back, breathing harshly, a low growl emitting from his throat. Blood smeared his face and dripped from his chin, bright emerald green eyes beaming from within the mess giving him a wild, beastly appearance that Gregori was sure would shock his gentle son if he could see himself.
Jaejoong was caught in the grips of bloodlust now, unable to stop himself even if he wanted to. Sensing that, Gregori withdrew his control, merely remaining a presence inside his son’s mind just in case his conscience managed to find a way to speak to him.
“Drink your fill, my son,” he urged, once again pushing Jaejoong towards his food. “This buffet is in your honor. Drink until there’s not a single drop left.”
Needing no further encouragement, Jaejoong dove in once more, biting into the maid so viciously that blood spurted several feet into the air, drawing appreciative laughter from the men closest to him. His left hand had woven into the girl’s hair, holding her head firmly in place, while the right clawed a restless path across her chest and stomach.
When he heard a sharp snap, a satisfied smile spread across Gregori’s face.
“That’s my boy,” he said with approval.
It was fitting, he thought, that the maid should lose her life at the hands of the one whose life she’d almost taken. An eye for an eye.
Jaejoong would not see it that way, he was sure. He would no doubt bemoan her fate and his part in it but he would deal with that when the time came.
For now, looking down at his son partaking in a ritual that he considered a sort of rite of passage, he had never been more proud to be his father.
Perhaps, he thought, they weren’t really so different after all.
A/N: Hope none of your have a fear of blood or anything...