Eternally Bound by Blood(Dark Bl)

Alaric blinked, his eyes wide with disbelief. The man was dressed in strange, bulky garments, his eyes hidden beneath a reflective, glassy mask that distorted his eyes . He stood beside the metal beast, as if he had come from within it, like it had birthed him. The man raised a hand, lifting the strange thing from his face to reveal wide, bewildered eyes that stared back at Alaric with equal parts shock and confusion.

Alaric's mind raced, struggling to piece together what he was seeing. A beast? No, a machine. A human? Or something else entirely?

"What the hell…" the man muttered under his breath, staring at Alaric like he was some wild, untamed animal.

Alaric blinked, his eyes wide with disbelief. The man before him was a curious sight, clad in strange, bulky garments that clung awkwardly to his form. A well-tailored suit, albeit one that seemed a bit too snug around the waist, adorned his round body, giving him an almost comical appearance. A vibrant scarf wrapped around his neck, its vivid colors clashing with the muted tones of his attire, adding an element of eccentricity that Alaric found puzzling

The man's face was partially obscured by a reflective mask, the kind Alaric had never encountered before, its surface glinting in the faint light. The mask distorted the contours of his face, making his features appear grotesquely exaggerated.

Alaric's lips parted, his voice barely a whisper. "What… is this?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he stepped closer, cautiously, like one might approach a wild predator, uncertain of whether it would flee or attack. But Alaric couldn't bring himself to move. His body was frozen in place, overwhelmed by the sheer strangeness of it all.

He had awakened in a world he no longer recognized, where the roads were black and smooth, the beasts were made of metal, and the very air hummed with unnatural power.

The driver stared in disbelief at the strange figure standing in the middle of the road. The blinding headlights had revealed what seemed like an apparition—an ethereal man, naked, bathed in the harsh white glow of the car's beams. His skin was pale, impossibly smooth, almost luminous under the light, and his long, snow-white hair framed a face that was both terrifyingly beautiful and haunting. The blood smeared across his face and body told a story of violence, yet his expression was strangely calm, unbothered by the chaos around him.

"Jesus Christ," the driver muttered, scrambling back inside the car to his seat. He fumbled with the door, still staring at the figure in front of him, unable to look away. He had never seen anyone like this before—this man looked like he had walked straight out of a dream or a nightmare. His beauty was surreal, but something about it felt wrong, like he didn't belong in this world.

The driver grabbed a blanket from the backseat, his mind racing with confusion and something else—an overwhelming urge to help, to protect, but also to possess. As he approached, his breath quickened. The man's blood-smeared face and naked body looked too vulnerable, too tantalizing in the cold night air. He must have been tortured, the driver thought, his eyes roving over the strange, pale skin, smeared with blood he assumed was the weak looking man's. There was something both fragile and dangerous about him.

"Hey! You… okay?" the driver called out, his voice shaky but trying to sound calm. The man didn't respond, only watching him with an unsettling stillness. The driver hesitated, but then, as if compelled by something stronger than logic, he stepped forward.

"You've been hurt, haven't you?" the driver continued, more to fill the silence than anything else. His eyes scanned Alaric's lean, flawless body. He had seen blood before, but never on someone who looked like this—someone who seemed like they should be untouched by the violence of the world.

Without waiting for a reply, the driver moved closer, holding out the blanket as though approaching a wounded animal. "Here, let me… let me cover you. It's cold."

Alaric stood frozen, his icy eyes locked on the man's movements. He didn't flinch when the driver wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. The fabric was warm and soft and Alaric allowed it to drape over his naked body. He complied without resistance, watching the human's face with quiet curiosity. His breath fogged in the cold air as he studied the man's trembling hands.

The driver's fingers brushed Alaric's skin as he adjusted the blanket, his pulse quickening with each passing second. His eyes lingered on Alaric's face, drawn to the ethereal beauty of it, even streaked with blood. He felt a pull, a deep desire he couldn't fully comprehend. His thoughts, once focused on helping, now shifted—he had this strange, delicate person all to himself, and something about that power thrilled him.

"You… you need help," the driver murmured, his voice lowering, becoming softer, almost coaxing. He took a step closer, his hand lingering a little too long on Alaric's shoulder. "I can take you somewhere safe. My car's warm. I'll get you out of here."

Alaric's gaze flicked toward the 'car', then back at the man, his expression unreadable. He felt the shift in the air, the way the man's eyes moved over him with more than just concern. There was hunger there, something selfish lurking beneath the surface.

The driver's breath hitched as he noticed Alaric's pale greyish eyes on him, that penetrating gaze cutting through him like a blade. For a moment, he hesitated, but the pull was stronger. His thoughts began to spiral—what harm could it do? No one else was around. The man was helpless, in need, and the way his slender, blood-smeared body moved under the blanket made it hard to resist.

"You're safe with me," the driver said, his voice taking on a softer, more intimate tone. His fingers brushed Alaric's arm as he leaned in slightly. "Let me take care of you…"

Alaric could hear the man's heartbeat quicken, the shift in his scent as lust filled the air. The driver's touch became bolder, his hand sliding down Alaric's arm as if testing the boundaries. But Alaric didn't move, didn't flinch. He simply watched the man, his lips curling ever so slightly into something that wasn't quite a smile.

The driver, oblivious to the danger he was courting, stepped even closer, his breath hot and eager as he whispered, "Come on, let me help you… we don't have to rush."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. His hunger, still gnawing at the edges of his mind, shifted focus.

Alaric followed the man, his bare feet silent against the cold, hard ground as he approached the strange metal beast. The thing the human had called a "car" still roared softly.

Alaric's eyes flicked to the contraption, curious but unimpressed. Machines had come and gone in the ages he had lived through. They were fleeting creations, lacking the raw, natural power he remembered from his youth. Yet something about this one seemed different, alien to him—much like the human now opening the door and beckoning him inside.

Hesitation flickered in the man's eyes as Alaric stepped closer. The human's hand reached out again, brushing lightly against Alaric's arm, testing the boundary of touch as though Alaric was a fragile thing, breakable in some way. Alaric remained still, letting the man's fingers linger, feeling the pulse that quickened beneath the skin. There was heat there, a soft warmth that spoke of life, but there was something else, something that intrigued him.

Alaric sniffed the air, nostrils flaring as the scent of the man enveloped him. It was clean, almost sterile, yet oddly vibrant. Different to the humans he had once known, so long ago. Back then, people carried with them the raw scents of the earth—sweat, soil, and the lingering tang of the wild. Blood had always been thick and heady in the air, clinging to those who lived and fought for survival. The humans of his time were steeped in the elements, marked by the fires they built and the animals they hunted.

But this man—this human—was different.

He smelled cleaner and more fresh, as if the harshness of the world had been scrubbed away, replaced by something artificial. Beneath it all, though, was the unmistakable scent of life, of blood rushing through veins. There was no dirt under his nails, no scent of woodsmoke clinging to his skin, no grit in his hair. Alaric found the contrast both fascinating and disappointing. Humans had grown softer, more delicate in their cleanliness, yet there was something alluring in their fragility.

The human's fingers lingered longer now, as if emboldened by Alaric's lack of protest. His touch became more deliberate, trailing along Alaric's arm and toward his shoulder. The human's scent shifted again, the faint musk of fear and desire mixing with the clean smell of his skin. Alaric's keen senses could detect it—the way the man's pulse sped up, how his breathing quickened ever so slightly. Alaric's presence was intoxicating to the man, and it was clear that the human didn't quite know how to handle it.

"Get in," the man said, his voice low, tinged with something Alaric recognized as both caution and want. He opened the door of the car wider, motioning for Alaric to enter.

Alaric paused for just a moment, letting his icy gaze linger on the man before stepping forward, ducking into the metal beast.

As soon as he entered, a strange, overwhelming stench hit him. It was unlike anything from his time—harsh , with an acrid tang that stung his senses. The interior reeked of something like burned oil or the sour residue of charred metal. Beneath it, there was a faint, almost animalistic odor, reminding him of boiled fat or treated hide, though stripped of any natural warmth. It was foreign and unnatural, a far cry from the earthy, familiar scents of wood, leather, or animal blood that once filled his world.

The smell of the car was new to him—leather, plastic, the faint scent of gasoline—but it was the human beside him who drew his attention again. Inside the car, the scent of the man became more concentrated, more intimate. He could smell the nervousness rolling off the human now, mixing with the clean yet muted scent that had drawn him in.

The human climbed in beside him, hands trembling slightly as he fidgeted with the controls. Alaric watched him, his curiosity piqued, though his expression remained cold, detached. This man was so different from the humans he had once known, those who lived in dirt and blood and chaos. He was soft, fragile, covered in the trappings of a world that had removed itself from nature.

And yet, beneath all the layers of cleanliness and false strength, there was still that unmistakable scent of vulnerability. The human's fear and desire hung in the air between them, an invisible thread that connected them, and Alaric allowed himself to breathe it in, a faint sinister smile touching his lips.

This new world, with its strange humans, might just be worth exploring after all.