Reunion: Part 1

He was everything I had envisioned.  The demon blood in him had kept him eternally beautiful, just as father had seen him.  It was something of an euphoria, knowing I had been born from him.  I desired to see his blue eyes -- to look at the hue of it to be certain it was the same hue in my left eye.  I was quite certain it was but I wanted to see it in him.  I didn't dare to take the blindfold off him.  I was not prepared to see what kind of eyes would be looking back at me.

   He sat very still -- unmoving and speechless as he had been left by my men.  His wrists were cuffed to the arms of the chair.  He didn't appear to be troubled by his predicament.  If anything, he seemed to be as eager as I was but for very different reasons.  My hands were trembling already, as I raised them toward his face.  He didn't even flinch when I touched the upper bow of his lip and traced the delicate shape of it.

    "You are not him," he said suddenly.  

    I sprung back, startled.

    "I'm not who?"

    The corners of his mouth curved up in a slight smile.

    "It doesn't matter," he said.  "Nothing matters anymore."

    I reached out for him again. This time, I touched his hair.  His platinum-colored hair were unusually soft -- like the underbelly of a kitten.  I stroked the hair mindlessly, watching the strands sift through my fingers again and again, utterly fascinated by the paleness of the locks.  His smile disappeared when I leaned in to smell his hair -- there's a barest trace of lavender and nothing else.

   "What do you want?"

   I kissed the handful of hair that was in my palm then let the strands fall back in place.  I was trembling again -- this time from more than just excitement of meeting him.  I backed away quickly, as if I had been burned.  I stumbled back until I was clear across the room.  I had to hold myself for a few moments to calm myself down.

   "You were the one who took the painting," he said.  It was a statement, not a question. 

   "It belongs to me," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

   "How did you arrive to that conclusion?"

   "You will know why," I said.  "As soon as you see my face."

   "Then take off my blindfold."

   "Not yet.  I'm not ready for you to see me."

   He cocked his head slightly and smiled a humorless smile.

   "You were the one who did the serials," he continued.  "And you were the one who killed Cody."

    "Are you upset with me?"

    He shrugged.

    "Somewhere deep in your consciousness, you know me.  I am familiar to you," I said as I made my approach toward him again.  "I exist inside you in the way you don't understand -- most likely, will not accept."

    He said nothing.  I knelt down in front of him and leaned my head over his thighs.  He seemed to be mystified but he didn't speak or move.  I ran my hand along his calves -- feeling the shape of them through the denim he wore.

    "Who are you...?"

    I looked up at him.  The way he stared down at me, I wondered briefly if he could see.

    "Someone who'd seen the sins your past," I said and laid my head back down on his lap.  "But still loves you very much."

    A corner of his mouth twitched but he didn't smile or frown.  He drew in a breath and sank back in the chair.  Suddenly he appeared to be very tired.

    "What happened to your baby?"

    I felt a shudder run through him when I said that.  I stroked his calves again, kneading the stone-like muscles there.  

    "At one time, you carried the seed of a goatling king...I know you remember it or the painting would not have meant anything to you."

    "You assume too much."

    I pressed my fingers over where the scar on his belly would be.  He stiffened at my touch.

    "Then tell me what are you thinking, when you see this scar that will never heal," I said.  I pulled up the shirt that had been tucked into his jeans and unbuttoned the shirt from bottom up.  "Tell me why you couldn't destroy the painting."

    The thinnest line in his icy facade had finally shown through.

    "Yes, I was there..." I continued, parting his undone shirt to the side.  I traced the crescent shape of the scar -- it was paler than his already milk white skin.  "I saw the pain in your eyes when you raised the sword...but couldn't bring yourself to swing it down.  Why?"

    I leaned in forward and kissed the scar.  His skin was soft and warm and smelled faintly of a perfume that came from his human blood.  If I had less control, I would have bitten down.

    "You don't know anything," he said -- his voice had dropped into a cold, guttural tone.  "Get the fuck away from me."

   "Why are you suddenly angry?" I said then licked the length of the scar.  "Are you remembering?"

   A growl came from the pit of his throat instead.  His hands curled into fists and he pulled at the cuffs.  I pressed my hands over his wrists and held them until he stopped struggling.

   "You won't be able to break out of these cuffs," I said.  "You will only hurt yourself if you pull at them too hard."

   "Take the fucking blindfold off -- "

   "I will," I said and cupped his face in my hands.  "As soon as you tell me about the baby."

   He was quiet for awhile, then he broke out in a laughter that puzzled me.  He laughed so hard that his body shook.

   "Tell you what? That I wanted nothing more than tear that atrocity into pieces with my own hands?"

   I frowned.

   "You don't know what you are saying."

   "Don't I?" He smiled.  "That thing inside me, it was the culmination everything I hated."

   I slapped him.  His head snapped to the side by the blow, his cheek colored crimson where I had hit him. 

   "Did I say something wrong?" He said -- his smile broadened.  "Did that thing mean something to you?"

   I slapped him again.  This time, I'd hit him so hard that I'd split his lower lip.

   "Not another word -- "

   "Perhaps you learned from Remus himself about how I'd tried to rip that goddamn thing out of me, " he said.  "Does that sum up my feelings toward that thing?"

    "Shut up!" I screamed and back-handed him hard.  If he had been a human, the blow might have snapped his neck.  His split lip bled harder -- the blood that dripped from it spotted his white shirt.  I wanted to hit him again but the realization struck me then on what I had done.  I backed away and held my hands to my sides.  I didn't want to hurt him again.

    He licked at his lower lip, his smile never left.

    "Don't assume you can know my thoughts," he said.  "I don't give a fuck who you are."

    "All I want...is to start over."

    He became quiet suddenly.  The smile dissolved into nothingness.

    "I want to have a life that I was never meant to have."

    I spoke of the words written by my father.  I knew he had said this to Dante once -- long ago.  It was perhaps the only words from the journal that I had taken to my heart and believed in.  Although I understood father's true intentions when he spoke those words, they were not mine.  I wanted a life with him -- the one who had bore me.  He is my life...and I don't care what I have to give or take to have him.

    "You don't seem to understand," he said after a long silence.  "A thing like me is not capable of love."

 

    That night, I left the manor and hunted.  I killed five that night -- one after another, not even bothering to change my bloodied clothing between kills.  I was so immersed in anger that by the time day broke and I've returned home, I was still furious.  The killings did not soothe me like it should.

    I stalked toward the chamber where he was kept -- reeking of foul human blood that was beginning to spoil.  I kicked open the door, the noise didn't surprise him.  His wrists were cuffed behind him, the blindfold still secured in its place.  Around his neck, a metal collar tethered him to the bed.  On the floor, there were remains of split wine and food.  He had refused food and most likely kicked it from the servant who had tried to feed him.

    "You want to know --?" I said as I walked toward him.  "You want to know why I am doing this?"

    In one hard yank, I pulled the blindfold off him.  There were no expression in his colorless face.  He stared at me as if I wasn't real.  As if I wasn't there.

    "All of this -- " I said as I stripped off my blood soaked shirt and threw it at the foot of the bed.  "I did this for you."

    I paced back and forth, running my hands through my hair nervously.  I wanted to hurt him so badly that I was shaking...but I didn't want to.  I was suppose to love him.  I was suppose to love him so much that I could forgive him, even if he doesn't love me.

    "It's not suppose to be this way -- " I said and sat down on the bed next to him.  I was crying but I didn't know why I was.  "It's not how this was suppose to be..."

    He looked up at me blankly -- staring at me but not seeing me at all.

    "A part of you is in me -- " I said and pointed at my left eye.  "You can't just reject me."

    "You stupid fucker -- " he said finally.  "You really think I gave a shit where you came from?"

    He struggled to rise up to his elbows but the length of the chain from his collar prevented him.  

    'I'm going to fucking kill you -- just as I should have done years ago and left you burning in that palace with that goddamn painting..."

    His eyes had narrowed into slits as he spoke.  He had just as much venom as hatred that was in me.  With a  single motion, I tore his shirt open.  

    "I knew it wouldn't work," I said -- tears were still streaming down my face in rivulets.  "My father who wanted another life through me...through you.  No, no ... it's different now."

    I pulled at his pants, ripping and tearing them with my nails cutting into his flesh in my haste.  He cursed and tried to kick at me.  With his bound wrists and collar on a short chain, he didn't have any leverage.

    "Don't fucking touch me -- " he screamed.  He was livid -- alive with anger.  Deep inside me, an arousal had uncoiled.  It was a different kind of arousal that I was used to.  My heart was beating so fast that I could hear it in my ears -- drowning out his shouts.  He was beautiful.  I loved him more than ever.

    "It's very different now..." I said and pressed one hand over his mouth so he could listen.  "Even though I have my father's face and his lineage - I am no longer an image of him.  There's parts of you inside me, just as there were parts of him inside you - while I was being made.  You see...he was wrong."

    He silenced and stopped moving.

    "Father wanted the wrong thing all his life.  You can't give it to him.  I can't give it to him...but, it's different now."

    I removed my hand from his mouth and leaned over and kissed him on his forehead.

    "My intentions are pure.  I won't throw you away like he did, after he achieved his means.  We will start over...right now...today."

    Droplets of my tears fell on his lips.  He didn't move.  His eyes were locked on me but they were unreadable.  

    "We will have a wonderful family of our own.  You will never be lonely again.  I will never be lonely again.  Doesn't that sound splendid? We will never have to hunt or be slaves to our bloodlines..."

    I moved between his spread thighs, pulling down my pants low enough to take my cock out.

    "I love you so much..."

    "You're...mad..."

    "No no no," I said and bent down to kiss him on the mouth.  "We'll do it right.  We'll do it the way it should have been done."

    He threw his head back and screamed as I pushed my way into him.  It hurt a little.  He was too dry and small for me but I was impatient.  I wanted to be inside him as soon as I could.  Soon,  his blood slicked the rest of the way through -- allowing me to spear him through completely.  He was hot and tight -- the sweet scent of his blood was intoxicating.  I wanted to be locked in that moment forever.  

    "I'm sorry about the pain," I said, stroking his tear and sweat dampened face.  He was panting, trying too hard not to scream again.  "It'll be better soon, I swear."

    "You...shit..."

    I smiled and gave him another kiss.  He tried to bite my tongue but most of his fight had left him already.  

    "We will have a wonderful life together," I said, tracing the scar on his belly with the tip of my finger.  "I won't even ask you to love me."

    I willed my right hand to take on the demonic form.  The fingers and the palms of the hand grew coarse and leathery -- darkening until it was nearly blackened.  From the tips of my fingers, yellowed talons grew until they looked like daggers with hooked tips.   Carefully, using my index finger's talon,  I cut into the scar.  His eyes grew impossibly large, his mouth opened in a soundless scream.  

    "All I want is for you to allow me to love you."

    Pools of blood sprung from the cut I made.  The strong smell of the blood made me dizzy.  My arousal was raised even more.  I found myself wanting to tear open Dante's belly with my fingers and feast on the innards and blood.  I laughed softly when I realized I had done this when I was a seedling inside him.  I had dreamt of returning to the womb.

    "Don't..." He said -- his voice was reduced into a hoarse whisper.  "Oh God...please don't..."

    "It's okay," I whispered.  "It'll be over soon... This will reunite both of us together."

    I lapped at the blood that had pooled on the slight hollow of his belly.  Tasting him had opened up a new hunger in me.  Vaguely, I heard him scream. I continued to drink from him until his violent thrashing had slowed to languid writhing.  I drank until the wound I had opened healed closed.  Moving just my hips, I fucked him slowly as I licked the remaining traces of blood from his skin.  

    "Love," I said softly and laid on top on him, pressing my ear against his chest.  His heart was beating fast, perhaps trying to replenish the lost blood.  "I wouldn't think to have another child with you yet."

    I kissed him, pushing my tongue into his mouth to let him have a taste of his own blood that was still lingering sweetly on my tongue.  He fought me, trying to twist his head away.  I held him by his chin and kissed him until he managed to work up enough strength to bite down on my tongue.  Instead of pulling away, I bled into his mouth until he choked on my blood.  I held him until he swallowed.

    "Not yet," I said and licked at the crimson droplets at the corners of his mouth.  "We will do it when the time is right.  After we've bonded in blood."

    "Sick...fuck..."

    "You are everything to me," I said, brushing a few damp locks of his hair from his eyes.  "I want to do it right.  I want you to understand how much I love you first, before we begin our new life together."

    I started to move again, grinding my hips against his.  He was bleeding terribly -- our intertwined legs were slick with blood.  He bit down on his lower lip, gnawing on it until it bled.

    "You may scream all you like," I said and licked at his injured lip.  "No one to hear you but me."

    "Fuck you."

    I pressed a finger over his mouth and shook my head.

    "As much as I love you and will forgive you for anything, I don't like hearing you swear at me."

    He started to curse again but I shoved in hard and milked out a cry instead.

    "It's a terrible habit," I said and pulled the length of my cock out, waited for a few seconds before pushing it back in hard.  He rolled his head to the side and muffled his scream into the pillow.  "Something I would not like our children to be exposed to."

    He cursed at me and continued to speak the hateful words even as I pummeled him in the harsh pace, fucking him harder and deeper by the stroke.  The pain I gave him didn't measure up to the disgust that he had for me.   I want to hurt him.  I want him to regret hating me.  I fucked him so hard that I tore the perineum -- feeling the flesh there gave way.  

    "Why are you doing this to me?!" I screamed and slashed my clawed hand across his chest.  I kept on slashing at his chest until he stopped moving -- his eyes were impossibly large and staring into the ceiling.  There were so much blood on his chest that I couldn't tell how much damage I'd left.  I'd lost my erection -- My softened cock slipped out of him.

    "I'm sorry," I said.  I was crying again.  I was furious with myself.  I should not have hurt him, no matter what he had done.  I should not have hurt him like that.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry -- "

    I broke off the chain that led to his collar and held him up in my arms.  He was still alive -- but barely breathing.  I rocked him in my arm, both of us damp in the blood he had bled.  

    "I love you so much," I said and kissed his cheek.  "I'm sorry..."

    His mouth moved but no words came out.  

    "It's okay," I said and wiped away the tears that had rolled out from his eyes.  Instead, I smeared some blood on his cheeks.  "Go to sleep, love...."

    I closed his eye lids and gave his mouth a light kiss.

    "I love you," I whispered into his mouth.  "My beautiful mother."