Glycerine | Astarion

Chapter Ten

Gʅყƈҽɾιɳҽ

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TW this chapter contains mature content.
Please advise and read at your own risk.

Xynaa woke to the sunlight warming her bare skin, creating a warm aura across the skin of her back. Opening her eyes, she blinked as she remembered the night before.

Her cheeks immediately turned red as the images flashed through her mind. Rolling over and stretching her arms out, she tilted her head as her hand fell to the empty bed at her side.

Sitting up, she hugged herself as she slipped out of the bed and moved towards the closet. Grabbing one of her long sleeve dresses, she pulled it over her head and pulled her hair out from the inside.

She remembered their conversation last night. When she tried to find out more about Cazador, and why Astarion was so eager and dedicated to keeping her from finding out anything.

Delphi entered the room and meowed as she jumped onto the bed. Xynaa turned and stroked her fur, petting her as she purred loudly.

"There's something I want to do before opening today, Delphi." She said, grabbing her jacket from the chair.

Astarion stood still as the echoing screams of the redheaded woman he had seduced into coming home to Cazador filled the halls and echoed endlessly. After his memorable night spent with Xynaa, he had circled the streets of the Lower City until he found the young, beautiful woman he hoped would please him enough to avoid twenty questions.

He could smell her blood. Rich and sweet, as it left her body within the room. He remained positioned outside, staring at the large red curtains that kept the sunlight out of the palace.

His jaw ticked as the woman's heart began to slow. The thought of what he did— not just this harmless, innocent woman, but to the men and the women he had dragged back to Cazador, circled his mind and caused his chest to ache.

I am no better than him.

"Astarion."

Cazador's voice echoed in his ears and caused him to raise his head. Pushing the doors open, he noticed the man sitting on his throne, appalled by the scene before him.

The redheaded woman laid across his lap, naked to the eye and covered in her own crimson blood as her head fell weakly against the man's chest. Her eyes were closed, but as Astarion neared, he could see the tears that stained her freckled cheeks as she inched closer to death.

Cazador's eyes flicked to him as he licked his lips and raised his hand. "Come closer, my child."

Hesitantly, Astarion took another step until he was right before the man's throne.

His master stroked the woman's face, running his fingers down her pale skin. His fingers roamed over her collarbone, over the delicate swell of her breast and down to her navel.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" He asked. "And her blood. The smell, is it not the richest you've ever smelled?"

Astarion tried not to breathe as his throat burned, and he wished he could stop the hunger that began to build inside of him slowly. Even close to death, he could still hear the blood that desperately tried to pump through her veins to keep her alive, and his ears twitched.