021: HOW TO KILL A VAMPIRE

021: HOW TO KILL A VAMPIRE
Cassian didn't know what he was thinking when he asked Alastor to teach him, and he certainly didn't know what Alastor was thinking by agreeing to the ridiculous idea.

Teach him how to kill a vampire. Who does that? Who looks at their own kind and decides, Yes, let me arm this one against us? Unless this is just another sick plan of the vampire lord, and Cassian has just walked into the trap without even realizing it. It feels like a trap when Cassian walks behind Alastor into his office.

Alastor moves around the desk with unhurried steps and shrugs off his coat, draping it over the back of the chair. He rolls up his sleeves next, exposing his pale forearms etched with faint veins and muscle.

“Stand there,” Alastor says calmly, pointing to the center of the room.

Cassian doesn’t move from where he stands at the door. “You’re going to kill me?” he asks instead. “Because if that’s the lesson, just do it already.”

“The more you ask for death, the further it strays from you, petal, but that doesn’t mean it won’t come in the next moment, so use your words wisely.”

“Well? Are you going to laugh and tell me this was a joke, or are you actually serious?” Cassiann shrugs.

Alastor’s lips twitch. “You asked me to teach you. I agreed. Why are you surprised?”

Cassian pins the vampire with a stare. It’s funny how he doesn’t see what’s wrong here. 

Last time they were together, there was a little bit of blood, and the vampire was close to losing control, and now he stands here as if nothing happened, while those eyes are still stuck in his head. 

“Because it doesn’t make sense. You’re a vampire. Teaching me how to kill one is like handing me a knife and telling me where to stab you,” he finally says.

“For a human, you have a lot of trust issues,” Alastor tsks as he approaches him, and once he’s close enough, he grabs his wrist and drags him to the center of the room while Cassian tries hard not to feel the coldness of Alastor’s arm on his. It sends tingling through his skin, and Cassian doesn't like it.

“It’s cute you’re trying so hard to protect yourself, and after surviving for many years, you look like you could have died from the very first vampire attack, unless…” he trails off, wrapping his arm around Cassian's waist from behind and pulling him closer to him, and then he whispers in his ear. “…you had never lived among vampires till I picked you at the ball, and that little servant of yours is the one helping you, isn’t it? Tell me, petal, how did you two meet?”

Cassian stops his breath from hitching, but his body goes stiff in Alastor’s arm. Is Alastor trying to fish information out of him? Cassian blinks, realizing how manipulative this vampire is, but Cassian likes to pretend he’s excellent at avoiding important questions, as he says. “I thought you were going to teach me how to kill your kind?”

Alastor smirks behind him; his hand slowly moves to Cassian’s slender waist, feeling him tremble in his hold as he tries hard to stay still. “You may think you are good at avoiding the situation, petal, but your body reacts before your brain does, and that gives me all the answers I need,” he whispered in his ear.

Cassian gulps deeply, and a throaty laugh erupts from Alastor’s throat behind him.

“Lesson one,” Alastor finally starts, his mouth so close to Cassian’s ear that he cannot help but shiver again. “Blades are not useless; you humans simply use them wrong.”

Cassian is fighting an inner battle more than listening to whatever Alastor has for him. The vampire is too close; it’s like Cassain is getting dumber and dumber each second from the coldness of his body. “You said they were useless,” he manages to say.

“I said they were useless against me; there’s a difference.” Alastor corrects smoothly, and before Cassian can respond, Alastor moves.

One second, he’s behind him; the next, Cassian’s wrist is caught mid-air and twisted just enough to make his fingers go numb, causing the blade in his hand to slip from his grip and fall to the floor.

Cassian hisses in pain and tries to pull free, but Alastor’s grip tightens, while his voice drops close to Cassian’s ear.

“Vampires are faster, stronger, and heal faster. You don’t fight us head-on, and most importantly, you don’t fight fair.”

“Figured that one out.” Cassian grits his teeth.

Alastor releases him suddenly, and Cassian stumbles forward a step, barely catching himself. Quickly, he whirls around, with anger flashing in his eyes.

“You going to keep disarming me, or are you actually going to teach?”

Alastor bends, picks up the blade, and tosses it back at Cassian, who catches it. “Lesson two,” his eyes glint dangerously as he proceeds. “You aim where healing is slow.”

“You heal everywhere.” Cassian frowns.

Alastor’s eyes darken slightly. “Not everywhere.” He says as he steps closer, then lifts two fingers and presses them lightly against Cassian’s throat. Cassian freezes for a moment while his breath catches in his throat.

“The neck heals fast, the heart, too, and the lungs regenerate. Even decapitation isn’t always final.”

“Then where?” Cassian asks as his grip tightens around the blade, and then, slowly, Alastor lowers his hand and taps Cassian’s side, just beneath the ribs.

“Here. With a silver-coated blade. Dive in and twist upward; it ruptures the core vessels. Most vampires will collapse before they can heal. That weakens them. You can either run or try to end his life by diving here…” he grabs Cassian’s hand with the dagger and presses the blade right at his own chest.

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he tries to draw his hand back, but Alastor has a strong grip. He swallows deeply. He didn’t expect real instructions. He didn’t expect this. What is even this?

“Dive in enough and there, you have a dead vampire, but a normal blade like this can’t hurt one, darling,” Alastor continues.

“And purebloods?” Cassian asks quietly, the clot in his throat feeling like it’s going to take his life. The intensity of Alastor's gaze is getting his body heated, and there goes that twitch in his pants.

Alastor’s gaze sharpens, something unreadable flickering through his eyes, but he looks more amused than anything. “Purebloods require precision. So if you want to kill me, darling, you need perfect timing and a good distraction.”

Cassian lets out a humorless laugh. “So, I don’t stand a chance against you? What could get you distracted?”

“You,” comes Alastor’s reply. A shocked gasp rips through Cassian’s throat, and suddenly, Alastor is grabbing his waist and pulling him again without warning, causing Cassian to lose grip of the blade as his hands land on Alastor’s chest while the vampire’s arms go around his waist to lock their bodies together.

Alastor smiles at him while Cassian doesn't even have the strength to struggle. “So, petal, now you know our secret, do you think you’re smart enough to kill one of us?”

Cassian blinks. He whips his head up to meet Alastor’s eyes, and just like that, he’s struck there in the darkness of his eyes while his heart drums heavily in his chest, wanting to escape its cage. Cassian’s gaze falls to Alastor’s lips before he realizes it.

“Are you going to answer me, petal?” Alastor’s lips stretch into a smile.

Like a spellstruck puppy, Cassian’s gaze remains on Alastor’s allure. Suddenly, he wonders what it’s going to be like to kiss his lips. “What was the question?” he asks, brain left in the gutter as all he feels is the coldness of Alastor’s body pressed against his.

Lips. Alastor’s gaze also falls to Cassian’s lips, and damn the gods, they are alluring, full and pink, and good enough to bite and ruin. Slowly, he starts to lean in, getting closer and closer till a knock comes on the door, and instantly, Cassian breaks free from whatever trance he’s under as he pushes Alastor back and escapes from his arms.

What is he doing? Cassian thinks to himself as his heart beats even faster than normal. He doesn't dare stand there, and he doesn't dare look at Alastor as he turns and darts towards the door,  opening it and escaping without seeing who is there.

What the hell is he doing?

He seriously wasn’t expecting a kiss from a vampire, was he?

This can be fucking happening.

He hates vampires. He hates vampires. He chants to himself as he returns to his bedroom.