Chapter 77: Obedience

Eric watched in stunned silence as the man's eyes remained locked onto Alaric's, unblinking, his breath shallow. There was an eerie stillness in the air, as if the very room held its breath.

Alaric's pupils had dilated, expanding briefly before returning to their usual state, but the effect was immediate. The man, once tense and wary, sat in the seat next to Alaric, shoulders slumping slightly. His movements were slow, almost dreamlike, as if a gentle hand had guided him down.

Alaric leaned back, his smirk widening as he turned to Eric. "Fascinating, isn't it?" His voice was smooth, tinged with amusement.

Eric, still processing what had just happened, could only stare. "What did you just do?"

Alaric's gaze flickered with something unreadable, but undeniably pleased. "I told him to sit, and he listened. Simple as that."

Eric's stomach churned. That wasn't simple. That wasn't normal.

Alaric tilted his head slightly, as if savoring the moment. "It's coming back," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His fingers idly traced the iron ring around his neck. "Slowly, but surely. The more I'm around humans… the stronger I feel."

His smirk grew sharper.

Alaric reached out, his fingers brushing against the man's cheek. The touch was light, almost reverent, yet it sent a shiver through the man's body. His skin flushed a deeper shade of red, his lips parting slightly as he leaned into Alaric's palm, as if drawn by something unseen.

Alaric's smirk didn't waver. If anything, it deepened. "Do you want to come, then?" he asked, his voice low, smooth—almost indulgent.

The man hesitated, glancing at the table where his companions sat. Their conversation continued, laughter bubbling in the air, completely oblivious to what was happening mere feet away. He swallowed hard, conflict flashing in his eyes.

But when he turned back to Alaric, that hesitation crumbled. His lips trembled before curving into a faint, uncertain nod.

Eric's expression went blank. No reaction. No words. Just an unsettling stillness as he watched the scene unfold, watched the man—some nameless stranger—fall so easily under Alaric's spell.

Alaric didn't bother looking at him. Instead, he rose to his feet with effortless grace, his hand lingering just beneath the man's chin. "Then let's go," he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

The sharp crack of breaking porcelain cut through the air.

Eric's hand trembled over the shattered remnants of his cup, his fingers curled so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His chest heaved, and when he finally lifted his gaze, his vampire nature surged to the surface—his pupils dilating into dark pools, black veins spreading like cracks beneath his eyes. His breath came out in a ragged exhale, rage rolling off him in waves.

Alaric only smiled.

He lowered his head, his lips ghosting over the man's ear before trailing down the side of his throat. The man shivered, his pulse thrumming beneath the skin. Alaric's tongue flicked out, warm and slow, tasting the delicate flesh. The man let out a breathy, half-stifled sound, his body melting into Alaric's touch.

Then, Alaric turned his gaze to Eric—amusement flickering in his crimson eyes.

"Give me permission," he murmured, voice thick with mockery and something darker. "Come now, Eric. You wouldn't deny me, would you?"

He tightened his grip on the man's waist, fingers pressing into the curve of his back, keeping him close—taunting, daring Eric to stop him.

Eric stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as his rage boiled over. The broken pieces of porcelain crunched under his boot, but his focus was solely on Alaric, who still held the man against him, licking at his throat like he was savoring a meal before the first bite.

Before Eric could speak, a waitress rushed over, her eyes widening at the mess on the table.

Alaric glanced lazily over his shoulder, crimson eyes glinting as he caught sight of Eric's barely contained rage. "Calm down," he said, smooth as silk but edged with command. "You'll make a scene."

The words hit Eric like a blow to the chest. His jaw clenched, breath shaky, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to obey. The veins under his eyes receded, pupils shrinking back to normal. He looked at the waitress, who stood frozen nearby, her gaze darting between the shattered cup and Eric's face.

"Sorry about the mess," Eric muttered, voice low and rough. He pushed a few bills onto the table, enough to cover the damage and more. The waitress blinked, uncertain, but nodded slowly before stepping back.

Alaric smiled approvingly, as if Eric were nothing more than an obedient pet who had finally behaved. "See? Control. You'll need it."

Without another glance at the wreckage they'd left behind, Alaric slipped an arm around the dazed man's waist, guiding him with ease toward the door. The man followed without question, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, a faint, mindless smile plastered across his face. He stumbled slightly on the steps but never broke stride, clinging to Alaric like gravity itself had shifted toward him.

Eric trailed after them, hands shoved deep into his pockets, a permanent scowl carved into his face. The night air outside the diner was cold, biting at his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat still simmering in his chest.

The man giggled softly—blushing, blissful, utterly consumed. He whispered something incoherent to Alaric, who only chuckled under his breath and tightened his grip on the man's hip.

Eric stalked toward the car, his boots crunching against the gravel of the parking lot. The cold night air did nothing to cool the simmering heat beneath his skin. Without a word, he jerked open the door of the beat-up pickup truck and slid into the driver's seat, slumping against it with an irritated huff.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel before his gaze caught his own reflection in the rearview mirror. His face was still taut with residual anger, his pupils slightly dilated. The dark veins had vanished, but he could still feel them beneath the surface, threatening to resurface if he let himself slip.

Behind him, Alaric was in no hurry.

Eric could hear it—the rustle of fabric, the sharp gasp of the nameless man as his back hit the cold metal of the truck door. The sound was soft at first, a startled exhale, but it quickly turned into something else, something embarrassingly eager.

Eric's grip tightened on the wheel. He's playing with his food.

Alaric's voice was smooth, teasing. "You're trembling," he murmured. His fingers ghosted over the man's throat before sliding down, tracing the curve of his ribs. "You like this, don't you?"

A choked noise—half a whimper, half a moan—spilled from the man's lips.

Eric clenched his jaw and forced his gaze down. Don't look. Don't listen.

With a sharp inhale, he yanked a phone out of his pocket—something he had swiped earlier from the dead man they had left behind. Anything to distract himself.

The screen flickered to life, illuminating his face in a dim glow. A passcode.

Eric exhaled sharply through his nose, more amused than frustrated. He tapped the screen idly, watching the numbers blink. A locked phone wasn't a problem. He had time.

Another muffled gasp from outside the truck. A low hum of approval from Alaric.

Eric's fingers froze. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, but he didn't look up. Instead, he let out a low, dry chuckle, shaking his head as he stared down at the device.

"Go ahead," he muttered under his breath, voice tight with irritation.

And behind him, Alaric did.

The moment his fangs broke skin, the man let out a shuddering moan, his body trembling against the door. Alaric held him there, firm but gentle, like a lover savoring every second. His lips parted around the wound, drinking deep, his free hand pressing against the man's hip to keep him steady as he fed.

Eric exhaled slowly, forcing his attention back to the phone.

Anything to keep his mind off the way Alaric touched him.

Alaric drank slowly, savoring the life draining from the man with every pull. His grip tightened as the man's body sagged against the truck, the soft moans turning into weak gasps, then nothing at all. The warmth faded from his limbs, and when his heart finally gave its last, fluttering beat, Alaric pulled back with a satisfied hum.

But he wasn't done.

With a flick of his wrist, he tilted the man's lifeless head to the side, exposing the curve of his throat. His fangs sank in again—this time, not for blood, but for flesh. Skin split beneath his bite, the sound of tearing muscle barely audible over the hum of the night.

Eric heard it, though. And for the first time since they left the diner, he smiled.

The man was dead. That meant Alaric wasn't toying with him anymore, wasn't making a game of it just to get under Eric's skin. Good.

Now, Eric could finally focus.

He tapped at the phone, his fingers moving quickly. He had always been good with technology—obsessively so. As a kid, he would take apart devices just to see how they worked, and then put them back together even better than before. Hacking a locked phone? Easy.

After a few failed attempts, the screen suddenly blinked open. Success.

His smirk was small but smug. He barely even noticed the wet sound of Alaric peeling flesh from bone behind him, nor the occasional snap of cartilage between teeth. It didn't matter anymore.

Instead, Eric's mind drifted elsewhere. Home.

His fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating for just a moment before he went into the phone's dial pad and typed a number he knew by heart.

His parents.

They were probably worried sick. He had disappeared without a word, and judging by his rough estimation of where he was, he was at least a two-day drive from them.

He pressed the call button.

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Then, a click.

A voice on the other end.

"…Hello?"