A/N: It's alarmingly easy to type up a chapter in a matter of 60 minutes when your ego is soaring, dangerously. Mine recently went through the roof... just ask my muse... she hashad to endure my rants on how I'm planning to continue the story. Poor her. Poor Kurda, for that matter.
Disclaimer: Still don't own them.
Inyx: Yep, you missed the first chapter orgy. Sorry about that, haha. I just took one glance at the reviews and knew I had to continue straightaway. As for the... 'I love you, Steve!', 'Slave, what have you been smoking?'... You're right. It's going to be rather like that. Oh, this is going to be fun alright...
The Freaky Butt Mate: I'm glad you like him. I'm rather fond of Steve as well. Though I'm still in the process of working out his character... as you'll probably see in this chapter. I think we all start out at rock bottom. My stories had their share of Mary Sues as well, and oh, the asterisks, the random kidnapping, the pink Pokemon...I won't go there. I still have nightmares about them. It was horrible.
Love Psychedelico: Usually it takes me days to update. Sometimes longer. But this story seems to type itself. Heh. The tension is only going to get more pronounced from here on out, don't worry. Hmm. Mayonaise... I never thought of that. Sounds interesting. Wonder if they've got any in Vampire Mountain...could come in handy, haha.
Steve was... there was no other word for it - cheerful. Overly so.
Kurda found himself staring in amazement bordering on amusement at the stark-haired man. He tried to quash his feelings and remind himself who Steve truly was, the acts he had undoubtedly committed... but it was difficult. Steve's behavior was truly infectious. Steve covered all the bases in an astonishingly short time. He told Kurda his name, his age, and many other things. He was now moving on to complaining about his followers.
"And they're always terrified. They act like they respect me, but I know the truth. I disgust them." Steve was saying happily. He didn't sound too terribly upset by it, just minorly aggravated. "Hey, you haven't touched your bat broth."
It was true. Kurda was stubbornly ignoring the irritated grumbles generating from his stomach. Nevermind the fact he hadn't eaten in days. Now, Kurda dropped his gaze to the murky liquid. There was a small container of human blood at hand as well that he didn't dare look at. "I'm not really hungry." He murmured.
"That's a lie. You haven't been given a proper meal in five days, nor blood for even longer - I know. I gave that happy order." Steve said, fixing him with another one of his intense onyx stares. Kurda knew why Steve's followers squirmed as they did, now. Steve behaved decently enough, but his gaze...it was so cold. You couldn't help but wonder what was really going through his mind.
And now, he was telling Kurda that he was the one that ordered the vampaneze to starve him. Kurda knew beforehand, of course. So it shouldn't have come as a shock.
But envisioning the Vampaneze Lord and meeting him were two seperate things. He wasn't a tyrant, and didn't seem to thrive on the discomfort of others. Subconciously, Kurda began to relax around him in spite of his better judgement. Those words were like a slap to the face when Steve spoke them, so matter-of-factly, and Kurda instantly threw up his mental barriers, pushing his bowl of bat broth even farther away.
"You ordered it?" He demanded. His voice was shaking subtly, and silently he offered up a prayer to the Gods of the vampires that Steve didn't notice.
There was something stirring within the infinite depths of Steve's dark gaze. Was it...amusement? Kurda bristled at that. Steve was having a laugh at him again! Albeit, the laughter was silent, but Kurda sensed it was there all the same. "You sound surprised." Steve said, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "Who else do you think ordered it? Santa Claus?"
Kurda's face burned scarlet. He silently willed the blush that now coloured his cheeks to go away. Instead, it lingered stubbornly. "I... I knew it had to be you. But why?" He asked. His voice was definitely shaking by now, and he no longer cared. He was too preoccupied with his rage, and staring daggers at Steve.
Steve met his gaze nonchalantly, entirely unaffected by his companion's apparent anger. "I hardly need to explain myself to you, Kurda." Steve tutted, sardonic amusement still dancing within his eyes.
Kurda was tempted to lash out, to wipe that knowing smirk off of Steve's face. To him, his suffering was a mere stepping stone to whatever he was planning. The torment Kurda went through didn't matter to him, not in the least. After all, he was only one vampire, wasn't he? He was expendable...brilliantly lucky to still be breathing, infact. He struggled to control the impulse of hitting Steve.
"You still haven't touched your broth..." Steve said in a quiet, sing-song tone.
Kurda stared incredulously down at the broth again. Beforehand, he would have given his right arm for one more meal. Now, in the light of his anger, he only wanted to push it away. "Damn the broth," Kurda whispered, his words barely audible.
He arched a fine brow. "Come again?" Steve asked paitently.
"I said damn your broth! You had no right to - " Kurda began hotly.
That was exactly what he was waiting for. He baited Kurda, just a little bit, and then a little bit more. Finally, Kurda did exactly what he wanted, needed, him to do.
Steve was out of his chair in an instant, and the two bowls of bat broth and blood were shoved out of the way. He launched himself over the simple wooden table, the only barrier that seperated him from Kurda.
Kurda could only utter a faint yelp of surprise as Steve barrelled into him. He was thrown out of his chair in the blink of an eye. Before he knew what was going on, he was on the ground, pinned beneath the full weight of the Vampaneze Lord. And the man - no, beast - was furious.
Kurda closed his eyes, instantly retreating into the far corners of his mind. In his mind, he would be safe.
That's how it had always been in the room. When his mind wasn't assaulting him, certain memories - of his childhood and other such things - had proven to be a safehaven for him. It didn't matter what happened to him physically... he was always safe...in his mind...
A low, almost feral growl sounded above him. Despite himself, Kurda cracked a single eye open to stare at Steve. "What on earth are you doing?" Steve hissed, his tone laced in ill-disguised contempt. His hand became tangled within Kurda's hair, and he tugged harshly, causing the other to gasp faintly.
Kurda wasn't certain what he was talking about, and never found out, because Steve was speaking again. "Smahlt, they said you were known for your intelligence. I'm afraid some of that may have depleted since you were locked away. Have you forgotten your position? You're on my turf now. 'No right', you say?" Steve purred, his gaze level with Kurda's, their faces nearly touching. "I have every right. You're the one who has no right... I, however, could get away with murder here. I set the rules. You'll remember that, won't you?"
His hand was still curled in Kurda's hair. The threat of the pain he could inflict was never absent, though he was now stroking the strands softly, almost apologetically. "Won't you?" He repeated carefully, the petting becoming slightly more coarse as it had been before. Kurda remained entirely silent.
Common sense and the will to live screamed at Kurda to agree, whereas pride he didn't know he even possessed protested heatedly. Perhaps he didn't even have that streak at all in the past... It was possible the room and his solitary confinement had stirred it up in him. That period of his life had been absolute hell, full of shameless begging, broken sobs, and unrestrained screams that shattered the otherwise still air.
Now that he was free of that dizzying atmosphere, he was eager to reestablish some sense of self. Steve, however, had other ideas.
"You won't," Steve answered himself, his eyes, already impossibly dark, seeming to take on an even blacker quality. "You won't. This is amazing. I thought you were different from the rest of your kind. You condemned them, after all. And yet here you lay, denying the only man that stands between you and a swift trip to the Hall of Death. It's so...ironically...funny."
And then Steve's lips crashed into his, that hand still curled now almost painfully in his hair.
Steve kissed him roughly, there on the ground. Kurda didn't know how to respond. He stared at his captor through wide, astonished sapphire eyes. Steve stared straight back at him through his own lazily-lidded black shards, as though this were a regular occurance for him. Maybe it was. Steve took advantage of Kurda's shock and deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into Kurda's laxly guarded mouth. He explored Kurda's mouth for a few endless seconds while the stunned vampire simply gaped.
The act increased tempo, became almost painful as the seconds crawled by, and lengthened gradually to a minute. Finally, Kurda snapped out of the trance-like state he had fallen into. He broke the kiss abruptly, panting and pressing his hands against Steve's chest to seperate them.
"Stop...!" Kurda protested breathlessly. Yet again, rage flashed dangerously within Steve's eyes.
"You're some piece of work, Smahlt. Talking down to me. You won't give me a hard time, will you? I suppose I should warn you now... I am not a paitent man, and I won't wait for you forever." He said.
"What...?" Kurda asked shakily, entirely thrown by Steve's words. Wait for what? He had nothing to offer!
Steve proceeded as though Kurda hadn't spoken at all. "Now, I think your insolence should be rewarded with... three days in solitary, I think. Perhaps then you'll appreciate me a bit more." He said, smirking wickedly. With that, he stood and dragged the dazed vampire to his feet as well.
Steve led him straight out of the hall, and through the tunnels. Kurda could only stumble along after him - the firm hold Steve had on his arm called for little else. "Not...not there, please." Kurda whispered. It suddenly seemed easier to fight against his pride, when faced with the threat of 'the room' again.
"Do you know how you tame an unruly child, Smahlt? You punish it. You punish it until it realizes what it's doing wrong, and corrects itself. The same rules apply to you. You stepped out of line, and now... you'll pay for it. And you'll continue to pay dearly for it, each time. Until you stop. And you will." Steve said, winking at him. They had reached the room. "You'll, probably, be fed. Though, before you tuck in... remember who supplies your food, and who can just as easily take it away."
And with that said, Steve shoved Kurda into the all too familiar room. "N..." Kurda began. The door snapped shut behind him before he got to finish. "No." And then he was left in total darkness. The candles that had previously lined the room were painfully absent, and Kurda found himself frantically wondering if the guards would supply him with some when they came around to feed him. If they came around to feed him.
Kurda sank to the floor, staring around blindly as the darkness and silence began to close in on him.