My saviour

Something cuts through the haze.

A voice. Calm. Deep. Calm in the way that makes you realize how not calm everything else is.

“I said, leave her alone.”

That voice doesn’t need to shout. It slices through the lust-drunk blur like a blade of cold steel.

Ariadne stiffens instantly.

And then I feel it — the bliss of her bite vanishes like smoke in the wind, and so does her support. I crumple, legs no longer mine to command. The wall doesn’t catch me this time. I hit the cold concrete with a thud, my limbs are weak and my body is trembling. Everything is fading. My skin still hums where she bit me, but the euphoria is gone, pulled away like a warm blanket in a freezing room.

{if Darkness < 50}

I gasp, blinking rapidly through tears I didn’t realize I’d cried. My hand instinctively flies to the punctures on my neck, sticky with blood. Shame burns beneath the exhaustion.

That voice… It saved me.

I look toward it, barely able to lift my head. He’s there. A silhouette stepping out of the dark — lean, composed, not imposing in size but… something else. Presence. And suddenly I know — it’s him. The man from the alley. The one who saved me then, too, from Trevor.

Relief wells up, sharper than any pain. Thank God. Thank someone.

If he hadn’t shown up…

I look down at myself, half-undressed, ruined in ways that aren’t just physical.

Would she have killed me? I doubt it, somehow it didn't seem she wanted me dead. Maybe something more... sinister? How far would I have gone? How far was I going already?

{else}

I groan, reaching out with a shaky arm. My fingers catch only air — Ariadne is already pulling back.

No—no, don’t stop. My body still throbs with the aftershocks of bliss, and I feel her absence like a limb torn away. My neck aches, empty. Cold.

“Why?” I try to speak, but it’s barely a whisper. “She wasn’t hurting me…”

I lift my head just enough to see him. That voice… I remember it. The man from the alley. My would-be savior.

But right now? I hate him for it.

Ariadne took me and I was hers. Willingly. And he ripped me from something exquisite. Something… wrong, but so fucking good. Maybe it's better that he did, but still... I didn't want to stop.

I try to stand but my legs don’t respond, and rage flickers in my belly like a dying flame. I look up at her, reaching, but she doesn’t return. It is over...

{endif}

I see Ariadne raising her hands in mock surrender while taking another careful step back.

“I was just playing, Lucius,” she says, voice airy and amused, though tension clings to every syllable. “She wanted me. I didn’t lure her.”

Lucius? So that's his name. And she said it like it was familiar and it had weight.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t raise his voice.

{if Darkness < 50}"Don't take me for a fool, she didn't want that to happen.{else}"Maybe, but she wasn't aware of what you really are and what you intend to do with her.{endif} Regardless, I won’t let you destroy another one. Not again.”

Ariadne lets out a soft, almost pitying sigh, tilting her head.

“You're such a hypocrite and you always assume the worst of me. I wasn't destroying her, merely opening her to a whole new world.” Her voice sharpens just slightly, still wrapped in silk. “And I can play with mortals if they want me to. She wanted it.”

Lucius’s jaw tightens, but he still doesn’t yell.

“You mean like Trevor wanted it?”

So she did it with Trevor, apparently. Did she make him go nuts or what? Fuck, I'm so wrecked, I have trouble following their talk.

But I manage to catch Ariadne’s eyes flicker in pain or maybe anger, it’s hard to tell. She draws back another step, the shadows swallowing her as she backs away down the alley.

“That was a... mistake on my part,” she mutters, quieter. “But she’s different. I’ll prove it.”

She turns her head. Her eyes land on me again. That fire — the hunger, the desire, the promise — it’s still there.

{if Darkness < 50}

“You’ll think about me,” she says gently. “You'll wonder what could've been, even if you hate me for it. But don't worry, I'll find you eventually.”

{else}

“Don't worry, my sweet Thalia, I'll find you,” she purrs. “You know I will. And then... no one is going to stop us.”

{endif}

And then she’s gone. Just… gone. As if the alley swallowed her whole.

Lucius finally turns to me.

His eyes sweep over me — not threatening or judgmental. Assessing. He's still calm, yes, but not cold. There is a weird, sympathetic warmth behind those ice cold blue eyes.

He kneels beside me, silent. His hands, when they lift me, are strong but careful. He doesn't struggle — it’s like I weigh nothing. It doesn't make sense at first but then I remember the ease with which he threw Trevor that night.

Despite his immense strength he's very gentle. I look up into his face, expecting to see pity, but there's something else. Something deeper. Older. It flashes and vanishes in the space of a heartbeat.

Then my eyelids flutter. The world tilts sideways. My body, wrung out and raw, gives in to the pull of unconsciousness.

His voice is the last thing I hear.

“Rest. You’re safe now.”

And everything fades.