Sins of the Damned

ADRIAN

"Lucian, I... fuck it. Lucian, I'm gonna save you." My voice, raw and desperate, cut through the damp air of the alley. 

I shook as I looked at him curled up, blood collecting around his fingers like some bizarre painting. Those damned trusting eyes locked on mine, waning quickly.

"You... look at me," he said hoarsely, withdrawing his hands from his gut. His blood poured out like a fountain, drenching his clothes. "I'm dead, Adrian. Just... take me to the hospital, so... Mom can come get me after."

What the hell is wrong with him? He's bleeding out, seconds from death, and he's just lying there… talking about his mom like he's booking a ride to his funeral? No fucking way!

Rage and despair raked at my chest, laced with a guilt so suffocating it made me choke.

"No, fuck that shit," I snapped, the words barely coming out of my shaking voice. "None of that 'go quietly into the good night' bullshit, you stubborn bastard."

"But... you can't—" His voice was small, barely there, drowned out by another wet cough.

Blood stained him like a motherfucker, but I didn't care about that at the moment. All I could see was Lucian… vanishing before my very eyes because of me. My world, my enemies. I had dragged him into this, and now he was paying the price. 

"Yes," I snarled, more at myself than him. "Yes, I fucking can."

I gathered him up, and he was light as a goddamn feather, like there was hardly anything left of him. He trembled in my embrace with the chill that came into him, and I darted further into the alley. 

I leaped straight up, able to grab the piping on the fire escape and pull up another, then another, and then another. Ten floors in a second, my boots rattled the metal, and Lucian's feeble gasp was barely loud enough to make out. 

"Holy..." he attempted, weakly flapping, but he was beyond struggling.

We reached the rooftop, where the moonlight sliced through the dark. I let myself sink down, cradling him between my thighs, his back pressing against my chest. 

It was freezing, which made him tremble. I put my arms around him and stroked him as if that would somehow keep him here. "Do you trust me?" I asked in a low and urgent voice.

"Adrian, I—" His voice caught. The words were barely a murmur.

"Do you trust me?" I yelled.

"...yes."

"Then just relax… and take a breath."

"I don't..." He emoted himself quiet as I bit into his neck.

I knew the drill. I'd done it too many times before. The bite hit, and Lucian melted into me, too quickly, too easily. The blood came slow, barely a trickle. My gut twisted. He was already slipping away.

God, please don't let me be too late. 

I drank again, and his heartbeat faltered, then slowed. Each beat was fainter than the last. When was the last time I'd taken someone this close to death? Years. A lifetime since it was someone I actually liked. The guilt burned, sharp and bitter, but I couldn't stop. Not now.

"What... are you..." Lucian trembled as the words escaped with his breath like a whisper.

I continued to pump, squeezing the last of his blood out. His flesh had gone soft. It was all that Kiss-mind look, death's drugs settling in, or so he probably thought. He wasn't wrong… not entirely. His trembling faded, then stopped. No more shivers. Just stillness. 

Now, Adrian. Do it now.

"I can't... feel..." he whispered, voice trembling with fear. "Please, Adrian... I'm... scared..."

My chest seized as panic spiked. I'm scared too, kid. His breath hung as a gossamer mist in the cold air, almost vanishing. I thought about Corvin… how he'd been past the edge with me. I had to do this right.

"It's a dream, Lucian," I said, shaking slightly. "Just a dream. I'm gonna wake you up."

I ran my fingertip over my wrist and hissed as the skin peeled away. The blood, my Vitae, refused to separate from me, reluctant to leave my form. I frowned at it, willing it to go. All or nothing, Adrian. A step toward damnation, but I'd do it for him. 

I touched my wrist to his lips, holding my breath. "Drink," I murmured, and hoped he'd make it.

His mouth twitched, feeble, then fastened. The tug was weak at first, but it deepened. I squeezed him tighter and felt the change. His body began to move, the wounds as though healing. 

Relief washed over me, but with a grotesque twist. He was alive—but he was in my world now, tethered to this accursed existence. 

A thought ripped through my mind: being what I was, was a curse. An eternal curse. Death would've been a blessing compared to what I'd made him.

God, what have I done?

LUCIAN

I woke up screaming, which ripped out of me like an ensnared animal. 

"God! Oh god!" 

My heart ricocheted around my rib cage, and my eyes shot around in blind panic. Couch… leather, expensive… Adrian's. All those spooky-ass paintings on the walls, dark and atmospherically brooding. The enormous window flooded the floor with moonlight. 

I am in Adrian's flat? But how? My head spun, a mix of pain and fog, as if I'd been flattened by a truck and left to bake.

My eyes landed on Adrian behind his kitchen counter. There was a strange mixture of relief and something leaden in his face, guilt maybe. His eyes bored into mine, unwavering, and it made my skin crawl. 

What the hell is that look? I attempted to turn, but a fierce spike rammed through my belly and forced me to my knees with a guttural grunt. The floor was cold, and I lay there, holding my stomach and gasping.

"Oh god, Adrian! What the fuck… what the hell is going on?" Then my voice cracked, hoarse with fear. 

I looked at him, pleading with my eyes for any kind of explanation, and he merely stared at me, mute, studying me as if I were a riddle he couldn't figure out. 

"Adrian! Come on, what... oh fuck. Oh fuck, was it all a dream? Did..." My hands were shaking as I jerked the hem of my shirt up, stumbling to look. 

Blood was all over me. My clothes were soaked. My stomach churned, but the wounds… they were no longer there. Not cured, just... closed up, like some horror movie shit. 

"What the fuck, Adrian!? "

"It was no dream," his voice was low and steady, but it struck me like a blow.

"What the… Adrian! What the fuck!? " I screamed. 

I crawled forward on my knees, attempting to rise to my feet. My legs shook, like a little newborn colt. I reached for one of his fancy stools, my hand sliding on the metal, but I didn't have the strength. I fell to the ground, harshly, making my bones shake. My stomach panged again, coming through sharp and hot, but it wasn't just pain… it was hunger, hollow and gnawing, like my insides were clawing at themselves. 

I cried as my belly tensed every time I breathed into it. What the hell was this? I'd never felt anything like it, that I was starving to death from the inside.

"Here. Drink this." Adrian's voice broke through the fog. He came and knelt next to me, offering me that glass of red he always drank. The one he never shared.

I looked at the glass, then at him, my brain screaming warnings. "...you've... never bought me a drink before." My voice was faint, throaty, but my eyes were fixed on the glass. 

That deep red… that wasn't wine. It never made sense to me, but now, all of a sudden, close up, it tugged at me, like it was calling me. My mouth watered, and I despised myself for it. I desired it, and that frightened me more than the blood on my shirt.

"Come on, drink."

I hesitated, my hand hovering. Everything in me wanted to bolt, get the hell out, but where was I gonna go? My body, covered with my own blood, was still a wreck, and I had no idea what had happened. 

The alley, that woman, the knife… it all came rushing back to me, vivid and brutal. I was stabbed. I was dying. But I am alive! 

Adrian's gaze locked with mine, steady, willing me to believe him. I felt like my gut was twisted, but I took the glass, trembling with my fingers. Whatever this was, this was my way forward.

"Okay," I breathed. 

I lifted the glass to my lips. My heart raced, fear and hunger duking it out. Whatever happened next, one thing was certain: my old life was over, and Adrian had pulled me into something dark. 

Something I wasn't ready for.