Chapter Text
You bit the inside of your cheek, grounding yourself in the sting. What did he want with you? He hadn’t said. Not clearly. Just riddles and veneration, as if your name were some long-lost hymn he was trying to remember. And maybe that’s what scared you most. The doorknob twitched. Not turned. Twitched like the house itself was holding its breath.
“Come on then,” you whispered to no one. Maybe to him. To God. To whatever force was pulling the strings in this haunted place. “You already dragged me out here. Might as well finish what you started.” The door creaked open, slow and deliberate. He knew you were watching like he wanted you to.
And there he was, Remmick. Leaning in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned, his chiselled chest and abdomen were left bare for you to see. Something in his eyes was not quite human or kind. It unsettled you when his gaze was on you, and you weren’t sure if that was good or bad.
“I figured you’d be dressed by now,” he said softly. You didn’t speak. Just stared, pulse fluttering at your throat. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a hushed click.
“If you dragged me all the way out here just to kill me, then go on and do it. At least I’d finally get some damn rest.”
Remmick tilted his head, and a sliver of a smile curled one corner of his mouth. Amused and intrigued, he reacted in a way that you’d just told a particularly bold joke.
“You think I brought you here to hurt you,” he said, voice low and smooth, with that eerie softness only killers and lovers had the nerve to wear. He took another step, the floorboards not daring to creak beneath him. Your fingers dug into the fabric of your nightgown, the only shield between your skin and his gaze. It wasn’t fear exactly, though something close enough to it itched beneath your ribcage. It was anticipation wrapped in unease. “But you’re wrong.”
“Then why? You haven’t given me much reason to believe otherwise.” You stiffened.
“You’ve got something old in your blood,” he murmured, fingers lingering at your jaw. “Something they thought they burned out centuries ago. But it’s still in you. Burning brighter every time I touch you.”
Your breath caught. “You’re not here because I want to kill you,” Remmick said, eyes dragging over you like candle wax down your skin. “You’re here because I can’t.” Your breath caught. He closed the distance in another slow step. “You’re the thorn in my side, sweetheart. I’m not sure if I want to worship you…” His hands fondled the edges of the bedsheets, and you were fighting not to give your escape one last try. Remmick’s tall frame loomed over your seated position on the bed now. “Or ravage you.”
You shuddered before you could stop yourself, not from his closeness but from the feeling that crawled up your spine. Something feral inside you was waking up, reaching for him with trembling hands and barbed teeth. “Ain’t I tell you I don’t belong to you?” you said, your voice barely steady.
“No,” he agreed. “But you will.” His hand lifted, slow and deliberate, like he meant to touch your face, then stopped, hovering just an inch from your cheek, trembling like he didn’t trust himself. That’s when you realized it wasn’t the control he was playing at. It was restraint, and it was wearing thin. “I always collect what belongs to me.”
You lifted your chin and met his eyes head on. “You think you own me,” you said, steady. “But you don’t even know my name.” Remmick’s smile twitched slightly, not from amusement but from the thrill of the challenge. He loved it when they pushed back when they didn’t make it easy.
“But I will,” he said. “I’ll learn it from the inside. One drop at a time.”
You stood up slowly, letting the sheet fall from your lap. The hem of your nightgown brushed your thighs, sheer in the moonlight. “So that’s what this is?” you asked, stepping toward Remmick. “You dragged me out here just to feed?”
“I brought you here to know you,” he replied, gaze raking over your body like a hunger he barely kept at bay. “To taste what has been hidden from me. There’s gold in your blood like sunlight, ain’t it?”
You stopped inches from him, heart pounding. “And what happens when you do? When you take what you want?”
His nostrils flared. “Then I burn slow from the inside out. And walk in the daylight with your fire in my veins, even if it’s only for one day .”
He reached for your wrist, but you caught his hand in midair this time. His skin was cool, but your palm radiated warmth like something holy. It hissed where your fingers touched.
“You sure you want to play with the sun, Remmick?” you asked, voice low and dangerous. “You might walk in the light for a moment. But I’ll kill you sweeter than any stake could.”
“You’re not what I expected,” he whispered.
You smiled, wicked and glowing. “Good.” And then, like the fool he was, he leaned in anyway, unable to help himself. His mouth was closer to yours than it had any right to be. Stilling yourself, you didn’t move or dare flinch this time. This wasn't about hunger; it wasn't even about you. It was about power.
Remmick didn't crave just anyone’s blood. He craved yours. The kind that came threaded within you from women who whispered devotions and spoke curses into the cotton fields. Your grandmother had warned you once, or at least you think. “They’ll come for us; they always know how to find us. Our pleas are like a church bell ringin' just for them.” At the time, you thought she was talking about the white hooded men, not the beasts in the night who bared fangs.
It was too late for a mother’s warning. In front of you stood a creature of the night drawn to the rhythm running in your veins. The reason Remmick hadn't killed you yet was because he couldn't. He needed you alive. He needed your fire, your rootwork, and your inheritance. A single taste could buy him a few hours in the daylight. But a bond? The more he feeds on you, the more he will become complete, sealed in the flesh that could buy him forever. That's why he looked at you the way he did.
“I see it now,” you murmured. “You want to possess me as a charm and think I’ll keep the sun from turning you to ash.”
“I want what's mine.” Remmick’s jaw clenched, and you were close enough to see the stubble begin to sprout along his cheek.
“You think I'm yours,” you shot back. “But baby, I ain't even mine most days.”
A laugh ghosted past his lips, but no humour existed. Only the sound of a man who'd waited lifetimes for something he had never meant to touch. Still, he leaned closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “I'll wait, I'll burn, fuck, I’ll even bleed for it.”
“Oh, trust me, you will.”
His eyes darkened at that. You knew how tightly he held himself back and could see that he wouldn't be able to stop the moment he let go. Your lips parted, and a breath catching between you was all he needed. His mouth came down to yours in claiming. Remmick kissed you like he meant to memorize your taste before it was taken from him. Rough, unrelenting and feverish in the way his hands held your waist. Trapping you in place, keeping you like a prayer he hadn't dared to whisper aloud. The warmth of your body against him unmade him.
“You have no idea what you're doing to me,” he whispered into your mouth.
You pulled back with a tight throat. “Then show me.” That was all it took.
He backed you into the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss. His hands slid under the hem of your nightgown like he'd done this a thousand times. Fingers brushed your thighs, waist, and ribs, mapping their way around your body. When the backs of your knees hit the mattress, he paused just long enough to look at you, to see you.
“This ain't about power,” he said softly. There was a tremor in his voice. “It's about you. What you carry and what you are.”
“You sure you wanna play with it?” you responded.
“I’d rather burn with you than live without it.” His smile was crooked, breathless. Then Remmick was kissing you again, deeper this time. You felt his hand press over your chest, palm flat, where your heart pounded like a drum. Lips tracing a downward path down your jaw to your neck with an achingly slow movement. Each touch pulled the breath from your lungs. When he reached the hollow of your nape, he paused, inhaling your scent.
You knew what would come next. Remmick’s fangs sank deep into you, making you surrender. You gasped a startled, breathy sound that melted into a moan. The pain bloomed sharp, then faded beneath a heavy warmth. Your knees gave out, but he held you steady, his arm locked around you, drawing you tighter to him as he drank. He was gentle at first and then desperate.
With each pull of your bloodline, he was pulling pieces of you, tasting your strength, your grief, and your lineage. You felt your grandmother's voice in the air, your mother's prayers pulse, and the earth under your feet humming with your bones. And still, he drank. It was a wonder if Remmick felt it all through you.
You gripped his shoulder, nails biting into his skin, and let out an almost silent order, “Don't take too much.” The warning was lauded as a tender threat. He pulled back, lips slick with crimson, pupils blown wide. His breath was ragged.
“I can feel it… inside me.” He rasped. You stared at him with a strange, knowing ache blossoming in your chest.
The heat between you didn't break. It deepened and darkened with the beginning of the vampiric bond. He looked at you like you were divine. He couldn't decide whether to fall to his knees or pin you to the mattress. He chose both.
Remmick looked dazed and wrecked as if your blood had undone an archaic side in him.
“You done?” you asked, voice sharp, hand fisting in his curls as you yanked his head back just enough to make him look at you. You tilted your head just enough for him to see the pulse still thudding at your throat, defiant, alive, yours.
Remmick groaned low in his throat in a mixture of pain and desire and shook his head, tongue darting out to lick the blood and drool from the corner of his mouth.
“Didn’t think so,” you muttered.
Remmick lowered you onto the bed with a reverence that bordered on idolization, eyes never leaving yours. Your nightgown bunched high on your hips. His hands trailed down with purpose like he was tasting you through touch alone. His fingers slid beneath the fabric, brushing over the warmness between your thighs.
You gasped more in surprise than fear, and he paused, his eyes searching yours like a man who’d just found a sacred thing and wasn’t sure he deserved to touch it.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
You didn’t.
Instead, you reached for him, dragged his mouth back to yours, and pulled his hips between your legs. The copper, slippery warmth of your blood is still wet on his lips; you could taste your blood on his tongue. The act of it all felt sacrilegious. He groaned low in his throat, the sound of constraint slipping. His fingers found you again, sliding through your wet entrance like your body had known he was coming long before you let him in.
He pushed your legs apart, burying himself in the cradle of your body. Raw and urgent. There was no teasing now. When he sank into you, the breath punched from your lungs. He filled you slow at first, then harder, each thrust dragging a broken sound from your throat.
Your hands clawed at his back, legs locked tight around his hips. The bed creaked under the rhythm, an old house bearing witness to something primal, something ancient. He buried his face in your neck, mouth brushing the bite mark he left behind.
“I’ll never stop wantin’ you.” he rasped.
You believed him because every thrust was desperate like he was trying to carve his name into your body. It felt as if Remmick was trying to remember what it felt like to be alive. Your body met him over and over, hips lifting to match his rhythm, to pull him deeper. You could feel the bond stitching between you, a tether forged in magic and lust.
You came with his name on your lips, a cry that shattered the silence. He followed moments after, spilling into you with a moan. It hurt to let go. His body trembled above yours, then laid beside you, chest heaving.
You climbed over him, straddling his hips, your thighs slick and trembling but steady. Remmick let you. Hell, he looked like he’d been waiting for it.
The nightgown was useless now. Spilled blood
stained the front. You gripped his still-hardened dick in one hand and guided him back inside you, slow and mean. No ceremony, no gentleness.
He cursed again under his breath“Fuck.” As your pussy swallowed him whole again, the pool of your arousal was enough to make even a dead thing believe in resurrection.
You rode him like you meant it. You were trying to make him feel what it cost to crave you. Each grind of your hips was rough and punishing, your nails dragging across his chest hard enough to sting.
“I ain’t your charm,” you said through clenched teeth, bouncing on him with a rhythm that slams the bed frame against the wall. “And I sure ain’t your salvation.”
Your thighs ached, muscles burning from how long you’d been riding him, but you didn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop. Not until he understood. Not until every inch of him was carved with your memory.
Remmick moaned like it was killing him. You had given him exactly what he wanted. His hands came up to your hips, gripping tight, trying to meet your pace. But you slapped them away and leaned down until your lips hovered over his.
“You don’t get to touch unless I say so.”
His eyes rolled back slightly, the tension in him sharp and coiled. “Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
“I fuckin’ hope so.” You smiled darkly, dragging your nails down his stomach.
Remmick lay flat beneath you. Body strung tight like a pulled wire, eyes glazed, and jaw clenched. His hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to hold you down, like instinct demanded he take back control, but he didn’t dare. You’d already made it clear. This was your show.
You leaned over him, hips grinding slow and deep, the drag of him inside you hitting the spot that made you see stars behind your eyes. Sweat dripped from your brow onto his chest. You let it. Marked him with it.
“You’re takin’ it,” you panted, riding him harder now, your hands braced on his chest. “All of it. Ain’t no sweet thing for you to use and toss out come sunrise.”
He tried to sit up, to grab your hips, but you shoved him back down with a palm to his chest, eyes flashing. “I said stay down, Remmick.”
He groaned, head slamming back against the pillow, the veins in his neck taut. “Fuck— yes, ma’am.”
That pulled a smile from you. A cruel, satisfying one. “That’s what I thought.”
The sound of skin on skin filled the room, wet, rhythmic and obscene. Your pussy gripped him with every bounce, dripping down the base of him, pooling at his thighs. Every roll of your hips dragged a lewd sound from his throat.
You felt his fangs graze the arm keeping you steady, lazy, aching to sink in again. You took the chance to use your other hand to tangle your fingers in his hair, tug his head away, and press your bitten neck right against his lips.
“You wanna feed?” you dared, breath hot in his ear. “You better earn it.”
His body bucked like a wild thing under you, but still, he obeyed. He opened his mouth and suckled gently at the already broken skin, lips cherishing the wound he’d made.
As he drank, you fucked him harder and meaner. The double sting of pain and pleasure made him whimper, hands fisting the sheets like he might tear the bed in half. You could feel him close, his stomach tensing, his thighs trembling beneath yours.
“You hold it,” you growled, tightening around him just as he started to lose it. “You don’t come ‘til I say.”
“I can’t,” he stuttered, mouth smeared with red, hands finally flying to your hips in a frantic grip. “I can’t—fuck, please!”
You slowed, grinding your hips in a punishing circle. His eyes rolled back. “Please what?” you asked, voice soft and taunting.
“Please let me come,” he begged, voice wrecked. “Please—I need to… oh baby.”
You leaned down, licked the blood from his mouth, and whispered, “Go ‘head.”
Remmick’s teeth clenched, his body jerking beneath yours, and he came with a cry as he fucked his cum into you. You followed right after, clenching hard around him, shivering from head to toe as heat bloomed in your gut and squirted on his thick and long dick.
When it was over, you collapsed onto his chest, both of you slick with sweat and blood, panting like animals that had survived the hunt.
Remmick’s voice was barely a whisper. “You gonna kill me like this.”
You smirked against his throat. “Nah. Not yet. There’s no fun in that.”
Then you brushed your lips against his and whispered low, “Next time you wanna take from me, Remmick, you better come harder than that.”
Because you knew now that every drop he took only stroked the fire, your blood might let him touch daylight, but eventually, it would consume him. When it did, you'd be left standing in the ashes. Still whole and still you.