The Vampire King’s Captive

BRAN

Bran had thought that he would be able to get to Maria before they got up, but for such big creatures, they were incredibly fast and they shot to their feet almost instantly, chasing after him.

He traced to her before they could catch him, but was stopped by the incubi guarding her. The incubi stood in his path, a scowl etched on his face and his tail dancing behind him. Bran would have to be careful of those spikes.

The tail moved like a whip, coming towards Bran, but he jumped out of the way before it could touch him and traced behind him-which meant that he was in front of Maria.

The creature turned and dove for Bran at the same time Bran dove for Maria and traced back to the ground of the cave.

He scowled when he saw that the incubus had held onto his leg and had traced alongs with them. Annoyed, Bran shot his leg out and kicked the incubus in the face, a crack ringing loud in the cave. It howled, cradling his nose which caused his hold on Bran to slip and Bran used the opportunity to trace to his sword.

Even though he would not be able to kill the other incubi, he wanted to make sure he killed this one, Of course, the smartest thing would be to grab Maria and get the hell out of there, but he just couldn’t find the urge to kill at least one of the creatures that had dared to make her their sex slave.

It was not news that Bran had a hard time forgiving and letting things go.

He traced back to the creature, but before he could even materialise completely, its tail whipped and connected with Bran’s leg, the spikes tearing the flesh and causing him to stumble.

However, it was not enough to make him fall and from the confused look on the creatures face, he’d expected it to weaken him. Little did he know that Bran was not merely an old vampire, but one of royal blood-which made his blood stronger.

Lifting his sword high, Bran brought it back down with force and the incubi’s seven feet form crumpled to the ground, his head rolling a short distance before stopping. The creature had died with his eyes wide and frozen in shock. Good.

Bran wiped the blood from his sword on the body of the creature and made sure it was just as clean as it had been before, then turned to Maria, who still had the material in her mouth. Her wide eyes alternated between him and the lifeless body on the ground.

He stalked over to her and removed the gag from her mouth. Immediately, she sighed and massaged her mouth, moving her jaw from side to side.

“Are you alright?” He asked her, watching her closely for any signs of injury.

As he’d thought, there was a small cut on her forehead, just above her right eyebrow and although it wasn’t deep enough to be anything serious that would require a stitching, it had to have been painful. And fresh. Blood was still running down her face.

A strange urge gripped him and he found himself wanting to climb back up there and kill the two other incubi. Cowards and traitors that they were, they’d left their friend to die and they had not even come down to fight him.

She nodded. “Please let’s get out of… here.”

We looked up at the same time, in time to see the two other incubi slamming their bodies against the walls of the cave. As if planned, Bran and Maria shared a confused look. Why were they slamming their bodies against the walls of the cave? Was that a burial of sorts for their friend?

There was a loud crack. Then another one. This time, he and Maria shared a look of understanding. The incubi were trying to bring down the cave and stop them from leaving. They wanted to kill them.

Quickly, Bran lunged for Maria and tensed to trace just as another loud crack rang through the cave, but before he could get to her, a rock came down on them, covering them in a cloud of dust. The cave shook as several other rocks fell down, but thankfully, none other than the first one landed anywhere close to him.

Pain shot up his right leg, sharp and profound and he groaned from the intense sensation, squeezing his eyes close. Somehow, even gripped by such pain, he remembered that he had not been the only one standing there when the rock had dropped.

Maria!

“Maria!” He shouted, and he almost passed out with relief when he heard a small cough.

“Here.” She coughed again. “I’m here.”

“Are you hurt?” He asked, heart in throat. She was a mortal. If any of those rocks had hurt her…

“Not really.” She came into view just then. First, her dark hair, then the rest of her and he couldn’t explain what the sight of her, well and unhurt, did to him. He shouldn’t be feeling any sort of way that she was safe, but he was.

It didn’t make sense, but he’d be damned before he spent his precious time making it make sense.

“Vampire…” The word escaped her lips, softly spoken and wary, and he wondered why.

He really hated that she called him that. That she reduced his entire existence to his specie. He was a vampire, yes, but he was more than that. He was a fucking King for fucks sake. Not that he wanted her to call him that, but he hated that she called him a vampire. Maybe he should just tell her his name-

“Vampire, your leg.”

He was just about to snap at her about calling him ‘vampire’ when the rest of her statement registered and he froze. With bated breath, he looked down and finally, the pain he’d been feeling in his leg made sense.

The rock that had fallen on them, rested completely on his right leg. Bran tried to move it, but it refused. He tried to lift his upper body so that he would be able to push the rock off his leg, but part of the rock was also on his torso and he couldn’t sit up.

He tried to move his leg out from underneath the rock, but it just wouldn’t move. It just wouldn’t fucking move.

Bran was stuck.

He should have just left when he could. He shouldn’t have lingered long enough to kill that fucking incubus. It had not been worth it.

Glancing up at Maria, he saw that she was taking everything in with wide eyes, her hand covering her mouth. He’d been expecting a lot of reactions from her, actually. He was stuck, almost powerless. He’d expected her to be happy about that and to run away from him now that she had the chance. He’d even expected her to gloat.

What he had not expected, however, was for her to fall to her knees by his side and place her hand on the side of the rock.

“I can try to push it off.”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

His brows furrowed. He didn’t want to give her any ideas, but, “Not even tempted to run now that you can?”

The glare she gave him was equal parts terrifying, equal parts confusing. Why was she looking at him like that? Wasn’t that what any sane person would do?

Bran would not hesitate to run once presented with an opportunity to, if he were the one in her place.

He watched her try to push it off, watched her put all of her strength into getting the rock off him, but it didn’t budge.

“You can’t do it.” He told her. “It’s too big.”

Christ, what exactly was happening? Why was she trying to help him? Could it be possible that she’d damaged her head during the time she’d spent up there with the incubi?

“Take my collar off. I’ll get the rock off of you with my powers.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. But the laugh ended on a pained groan. “No way I’m getting your collar off, princess.”

“But you don’t have any other choice.” She snapped. “You’re bleeding out.”

He looked down and saw that he actually was bleeding out. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to pass out from blood loss.

“I do.” He said suddenly, a thought hitting him. “I’m going to cut my leg off.”

She stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. “You’re what?”

“Thats the only option.”

She leaned down and shouted in his face. “No, it’s not. Get the damn collar off so that I can help you.”

Bran didn’t even think about it. “No.”

There was no way he was going to take her collar off. He had the key-it went with him everywhere-and he could easily open it for her. But he wasn’t that gullible; his trust issues ran a mile long. If he took the collar off her, she would run away-but not before completing the job the rock couldn’t.

She would kill him.

“You are so bloody stubborn.”

“Glad to know what you think of me. I’ve been dying to know.” He spat, frustrated and angry.

She knelt there, staring at him for several beats. Then she sighed, shook her head and stared at the rock lying on his leg as though it was her opponent on a battle field.

“I’m going to push it off.” She whispered the words convincingly, before putting her hands to the rock again.

He wanted to tell her that it was a lost cause. That she shouldn’t bother. He would cut his leg off and it would definitely regrow in a few days-and even though that would slow them down a bit, they’d still make it out within the week.

He could hardly believe it when the rock budged at first, then after several tries and cute little growls from Maria’s lips, the rock slid completely off his leg.

He stared at Maria as though she was an alien.

She’d saved him.