Something is wrong – what it is, Maria can’t be sure, when it’s so distant and dulled – but she worries at it anyway, squirming a little.

The strong arms cradling her tighten just a little. “Shh, my lovely, we’re just going to sit here for now. Just to relax, let you calm down a little. You’ve had such a day, haven’t you?” When Maria nods, blessedly cool fingers cup her heated cheeks, cradling her head and taking its weight. “There, there, you’re safe now, dear hunter. No need to fight anymore.”

Her eyes burn, and Maria tries to blink the pain away, letting it spill wetly down her cheeks. When was the last time someone said that to her? When was the last time it was true?

Every muscle limp, she lets herself fall back against Magdalena. With her face buried in the silk of Magdalena’s sleeve, everything is dark and quiet, only a soft pulsing tone that she recognises from the last time she was enthralled. The swishing slide of hands through her hair, nails scratching pleasantly at her scalp, keeps her grounded in her loose, heavy body. It’s…

Peaceful.

Nothing’s been peaceful in a very long time.

She comes back to herself by degrees, muscle by muscle. Her ears still ring faintly, but her head is clearing, slowly enough that the enormity of the shit she’s in doesn’t fall on her head all at once. She gets it in bits and pieces, almost manageable.

Almost.

This time, when she struggles, Magdalena lets her stand, even helps her up. “Feeling better?” she inquires, hands running tenderly down her arms.

Magdalena. The vampire who’d torn into her throat in front of a gathering of salivating beasts.

The creatures we hunt may be stronger than us, and faster, but they’re also very used to being at the top of the food chain. Rarely do they expect an attack . Use that .

As fast as she can manage, Maria surges forward, her arm at the monster’s throat. She slams them both into the wall as forcefully as she can, snarling in satisfaction as the vampire’s head smacks off the wood panelled wall.

The monster smiles down at her, head tipped back, the long line of her neck bisected by Maria’s tensed forearm. In the low light, her pupils reflect a soft, eerie green. “Really, dear little Artemisian? I save you from the hungry wolves, and this is the thanks I get?”

Maria glares up at her, sick to her stomach, furious beyond words. Worse, beneath the righteous rage sits the sick and bubbling knowledge that she’s utterly fucked. Trapped in a mansion full of enemies; no weapons, no phone or comms, no exit strategy. Down a good few mouthfuls of blood, head still reeling from several dissipating enthrallments.

The Ordo Dianae know she’s here, they must; she doesn’t know of anything that could block the aura of the holy brand that sits between her shoulder blades. But they won’t come for her. Hers is a practical order, and has always been; walking into this place would be suicide.

One of the monster’s hands comes up, long fingers curling around the wrist that still rests against her throat. The metal of her rings is as cool as if they were fresh from her jewellery box. “Let me help you,” she murmurs, and though her voice might be sweet and kind and melodic, there’s none of that honey-heavy resonance that Maria knows to fear. “You won’t last the night otherwise, we both know that. I can keep you safe.”

“And why would you do that, pray tell?” Maria snaps.

A curl of a smile, red-lipped and, Goddess preserve her, fond . “I’d miss you terribly if you died, my dear hunter.”

“I’m not your anything,” Maria replies sharply. Trying to think.

There is no way this will end well, whatever she does.She could run. Out a window, through the grounds, pit her training against the beasts’ senses and instincts. She could, if she wanted to give them a hunt.

There’s already blood in the water, after all.

As if she’s reading her mind – can she? Vampiric telepathy has never been proven one way or another, and Maria wouldn’t put anything past this creature – Magdalena’s thumb begins to draw circles on the delicate skin of her wrist. The hell of it is, the touch is actually helping , drawing the tension out of her gently as spring rain.

Memories of their first meeting drag at her, pressed into a tight stone passage, waiting for the vampires out for both their blood to pass. Maria had been younger then, greener, and when Magdalena had taken her hand, she’d held on for dear life. Her touch had helped then, too, keeping her fast breathing from tipping over into hyperventilation. That had probably saved both their lives.

“Seriously,” Maria mutters, “None of your shit. Why intervene? From the sound of it, sticking your neck out for me cost you. Why bother?”

Magdalena blinks at her, face open and guileless. As if she could ever be defenceless. “You said please.”

“I didn’t expect you to-“

“Then why bother asking, if you know all hope is lost? Why surrender your pride?” Magdalena’s smile is almost gentle, and doesn’t that just burn. “You might not trust me with much, but you trust me with your life. And why not? I had you entirely in my hands tonight – you understand that, yes? And what did I do with that gift?”

“You drank my blood ,” Maria spits.

The monster scoffs. “I took a few mouthfuls, for appearances sake. To be quite frank, you should be praising my restraint. The way you tasted…” she trails off, and Maria fancies she can see her tongue moving inside her mouth, hungry and questing. Abruptly, she’s painfully conscious of her pulse points.

“How did I taste?” slips from her lips. Only once she’s spoken does she notice the curiosity in her voice, but she’s too late to bite it back.

Magdalena’s grin splits her face open, beautiful and a little grotesque with those needle-sharp fangs pressing against her lower lip. “Like a forest at night. Like the pounding of a hammer on red-hot steel. Like the chase, and the kill.”

Her words should be melodramatic to the point of ridicule. At the least, it should be violating, horrific. It shouldn’t hit Maria like this, low in the gut and as heavy as a punch.

It’s the enthrallment. It must be, getting under her skin and setting it on fire. No matter that she’s wanted to be this close to Magdalena since the vampire saved her life the first time. Since the first time Maria had saved hers. She can’t even be considering-

She can’t help but notice that she hasn’t pulled away. That she doesn’t particularly want to.

Magdalena’s nostrils flare slightly, her eyes narrowing - then they widen again, pupils flaring bright. She shifts against the wood, and Maria tracks her on instinct, skin buzzing. As if she’s poised to begin a hunt, body preparing for a chase, a fight.

Slowly, as if she’s afraid Maria will bolt if she goes too fast, Magdalena’s knee nudges upwards, slipping between her spread legs. She only rests it lightly against Maria’s crotch, just a whisper of pressure. Just enough that Maria can chase it, hips rocking down. It takes a moment to find the right angle, to grind her clit properly against Magdalena’s thigh, hot friction that skirts the edge of painful.

Goddess, it feels good. Painfully good. She’s already soaked, can feel the slick spreading as her hips shift, finding a rhythm, picking up speed.

“Good girl,” Magdalena whispers, urging her on with an almost-painful grip on her arse. “Good, beautiful girl. Come on then, take what you want, you’re so beautiful like this. As beautiful as you are with blood streaked down your face, in your leather armour – leather armour, my God, do your leaders know what that looks like? You could be lovely anywhere, but that moment you were in my power, your beating heart flowing into my mouth-“

“Shut up ,” Maria hisses, slapping a hand over Magdalena’s mouth, snarling when she feels the smile curving under her lips.

Suddenly she’s being spun, back smacking against the wall as Magdalena crowds in, wedging her thigh tight between Maria’s legs. “No,” the monster croons in her ear, cool hands curling around her wrists and tightening. “I want you to listen to this. I want you to know how lovely you are, beautiful little mortal, so sharp, so strong . Defiant to the last. God knows I wish you’d crumble for me, but you wouldn’t be nearly as lovely if you were so easily broken, would you?”

Maria gasps, sinks her teeth into her lip. Her desire is a living thing, eating her from the inside. Magdalena’s face, the rolling pressure against her clit, are the only things that matter, everything else so distant she can barely even see it.

"Why intervene?" Magdalena whispers, "what a joke. As if I could have stood to let any other touch you. To taste you, to hold you in the aftermath. Those things are mine, lovely, mine alone." Deep in the thick , sweet haze of arousal, Maria can't spare breath to protest the possession, thick in Magdalena's voice. Can't imagine why she ever would.

When she comes, it’s like a bomb going off, destructive and burning and all over. She sinks her teeth into the rich silk of Magdalena’s dress to muffle her scream.

She hangs there for long moments, sucking in oxygen and trying to calm her shaking muscles. The hands at her wrists help, loosening to pet up and down her arms, grounding her once again.

“Feel better now?” Magdalena asks, her tone flirting with innocence.