He was smarter than you’d thought. You had assumed he was like every other curse you’d encountered—brainless, weak, driven only by the mindless hunger to drain the life from whoever they latched onto.

But he was anything but.

And you had fucked up.

You should have run when you had the chance. Should have listened when your gut twisted in warning, the moment you felt it—that ominous, suffocating energy pouring from him like an endless, seeping wound.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t be here. Chained. Trapped. A lamb awaiting slaughter.

Then, footsteps.

Your heart plummeted, lodging itself in your throat as pure panic took hold. Your eyes darted frantically across the cell, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Desperation clawed at your insides as you yanked at the chains binding your wrists, the harsh clatter of metal ringing down the corridor.

“Don’t tell me my new toy is already trying to escape.” His voice slid through the air, dripping with sadistic amusement. You froze. There was a cruel smile hidden in his words, a promise of something far worse than death.

And then—he appeared.

Right in front of you.

The sheer force of his presence nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. Crimson eyes locked onto yours, their intensity suffocating. But it wasn’t the suddenness of his arrival that unsettled you most. It was what he did next.

With unsettling ease, he took your cuffed hand in his own and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your skin—slow, deliberate, almost gentle.

His eyes fluttered shut, but his second pair never wavered, still watching, still assessing, drinking in your every reaction.

Then, he spoke.

“When I’m done with you…” His voice was softer now, almost tender. His eyes reopened, gleaming with something dark and insatiable.

“…you’ll be begging for death long before you ever beg for escape.”