#frenchvampire

The Timelord called it a peace offering and the vampire accepted it eagerly.

 Kyrian prepared Naz carefully for tonight's encounter. He had her bathed by the slaves, had her perfumed, and had called her to him before Lestat arrived. He gave her a shot, told her it was something new he was working on. An anticoagulant that the vampire would enjoy because it would keep her blood flowing for him, an easier feed. She accepted it with a smile, thinking nothing of it, trusting her Master completely.

 He gave Lestat a 'special price'. One vial of vampire blood and he could drain the slave until she passed out, until her heart stuttered and stopped. He assured the vampire that once this happened he could heal the damage done, and he would quite enjoy watching her 'die' or come as near to it as Lestat could manage. The only condition was that he would be in the room to watch the proceedings.

 Lestat, vain creature that he was, jumped at the chance. He wanted as much for the slave's owner to see his prowess in making the girl enjoy his feeding as he wanted the experience of draining every single drop without a blink of guilt. Thinking to himself this was a sign of favor, that if he played his cards right he would be drinking from the owner instead soon enough, playing him as he had once played another rich man, seducing with power and with sensuality that was false and empty.

 He never saw it coming. Oh he played the slave as a fine instrument, had her sighing and moaning while he took his time with his meal. The lack of his own arousal hardly slowed him - this was a show and he performed well. The slender girl in his arms reached heights of pleasure that had her trembling and screaming in joy, and when at last he took the final pull from her heart she gave a violent shudder.

 That was when it all went wrong. He watched her turn to the side, losing the contents of her stomach, eyes rolling back in her head as she clenched into a tight ball of pain on the floor. Lestat's eyes found Kyrian’s, and he saw victory and a smirk painted on his face.

 He struggled to his feet, took a faltering step forward towards the door, and the blood in his system rebelled, preventing him from taking another as instead he fell to the ground heavily.

 When he woke it was to the cold strength of a steel floor beneath his cheek. His body was still wracked with pain, weaker than it should have been considering the amount of blood he'd injested. He raised his head from the floor and saw why, it soaked his entire side, matting his hair in thick sticky strands that clung to his face. Poison. Again. Would he forever be a victim to his own vanity? Echoes of a too-innocent blonde face flashed before his eyes, her smirk changing into Kyrian's, joining their faces along with their goals to have him brought down.

 The feral growl that broke from his mouth was met by a laugh, someone leaning against the door frame.

"Hello, Lestat."

The Doctor had watched the vampire feed, watched from the shadows as the vampire collapsed from the poisoned blood, a look of cold indifference on his face. When Lestat was unconscious, Kyrian moved in to transport the vampire and heal his slave girl. The Doctor helped move the vampire in silence, his darkened gaze never leaving the vampire's face as they moved him.

He waited, waited through the blood and the pain, waited until Lestat woke. And when he saw the vampire wake, taking in his surroundings, the Doctor couldn't help but laugh. "Hello, Lestat," he purred, stepping away from the door frame he'd taken to leaning against and moving just a touch closer. "Have a good nap? I hope you're well rested, because I want to play a few little games with you, and it's not at all fun if you're not fully rested for them." There was a wicked glint to his eyes, the anger and disgust over what the vampire was, what he'd done, filling him to the core. He wanted to make this beast suffer, and he would, if he could manage it.