#walter deville x reader

The ballroom hums with the murmur of conversation. Candlelight flickers against gold-trimmed walls, and the scent of warmed wax and delicate perfume seems to fill the space.

Walter stands beside you, a familiar and steady presence. His hand rests lightly on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your gown as he guides you through the parting crowd.

He leans in close to you, “Care for a dance?” His voice is smooth and light, almost teasing.

You smile, giving him a small nod. It isn’t often that Walter takes the lead in things like this, so you take the opportunity. And when the orchestra shifts into a slow waltz, he pulls you close. His hand is firm on your waist, and the other wraps around your delicate one.

The world outside fades away, and you can only focus on him. His high-set cheekbones, the way his dark eyes bore into yours, his perfect lips parted just enough for the tips of his canines to peek through. Everything about him was simply mesmerising.

Walter's gaze focuses on you, unwavering, as if you are the only thing in the room worth looking at. The soft glow of candlelight catches in his dark eyes, and he smiles, not wide, not showy, but something quieter and measured, but you know how much it means.

His deep stare causes your steps to falter, only slightly, but Walter’s grip keeps you steady. When you glance up at him again, his expression remains unchanged, his focus entirely on you.

When the song ends, Walter spins you into the crowd with a seamless movement. His hand doesn’t leave you for long before he’s guiding you toward the drinks table.

“Do you want something to drink?” The warmth in his voice is familiar, so is his hand splayed over your back. You turn to answer, but before the words leave your lips, you recognise an old friend of yours.

“Don't you two look marvelous,” he says, his voice easy, carrying the kind of charm that slips in unnoticed until it’s already settled.

His hand clasps yours, firm and warm, a glint of amusement flickering in his gaze.

“I’d like to introduce you to my husband,” you say, turning slightly toward Walter. “Walter, this is Darian, an old friend of mine. Darian, this is Walter, my husband.”

Walter’s grip is steady as he takes Darian’s offered hand, his expression neutral and unreadable. The handshake lingers a second too long before Walter releases him, but his attention doesn’t stay on Darian for long; his eyes flicker back to yours quickly, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder as though drawn there by instinct.

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Darian says, his tone smooth, too easy. “She’s told me so much about you.” Walter inclines his head.

“Pleasure.” Walter’s voice is flat, almost uninterested, as if merely stating a fact.

Darian’s smile widens, playful, but his eyes flicker with something more calculating. Walter remains still, but you feel the faintest shift of his fingers against your shoulder, a barely-there touch, light yet deliberate. Not possessive, not forceful.

Just a reminder.

When you all sit down for dinner, a few mere hours later. The first course arrives, delicate plates of soup set before each guest.

Darian, ever the charmer, carries himself with an ease that grates against your nerves.

His words are completely innocuous but too well-placed, his smiles just a touch too warm.

“You always did have exquisite taste,” Darian muses, swirling the wine in his glass. His eyes flicker toward you for a second too long before returning to Walter. “In all things, it seems.”

Walter’s fingers tap once against the table, a slight movement which goes unnoticed by most, but you know better. His expression remains impassive, his smirk still polite.

“It is only natural to surround oneself with the finest, is it not?”

Darian chuckles, sipping his wine. “I do wonder how you manage to keep it all so… untarnished. Beautiful things tend to be fragile.”

You stiffen slightly, but Walter remains motionless. He does not glance at you, does not acknowledge Darian’s bait. Instead, he turns his attention to you, reaching for your hand under the table. His touch is light, a brief press of reassurance before he withdraws, taking a slow sip from his glass whilst doing so.

Darian leans forward slightly, feigning casual interest. “It must be… consuming, living here,” he remarks, eyes flickering to you once more. “Such a grand estate, such a grand life. But does it not grow tiresome? The weight of it all?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Walter beats you to it. “On the contrary,” he says smoothly, “she thrives here.” His smile is razor-sharp. “I see to it.”

Darian’s lips part slightly, caught off guard for the first time that evening. He recovers quickly, though, forcing an easy grin. “Ah, of course. Ever the perfect host.”

Walter exhales a quiet chuckle, something dark glinting in his gaze.

However tense the evening gets, it is not until dessert is served that something in the air truly shifts.

Walter, who has played this game with such meticulous control, has exhausted his patience. So, when Darian reaches for your hand across the table, perhaps in jest, perhaps in something more calculated. But before his fingers can reach and brush yours, Walter moves.

Not hastily, not with any outward aggression, but with an ease that is almost terrifying. His own hand intercepts, gripping Darian’s wrist with deceptive gentleness.

Darian’s smile falters, just ever so slightly.

The air in the room feels heavy with silence, the kind that settles after the laughter and music of a memorable night have long faded away. The fire crackles faintly in the hearth, casting soft light across the stone walls, but the warmth doesn’t seem to reach your skin. The guests have all gone, leaving only a handful of people behind. Now it’s just you, Walter, and Darian, who is leaving in the morning.

Darian sits on the edge of his seat, his voice is low, teasing as he recounts one of his many travels, leaning in just a bit too close, as though the space between you doesn’t matter. His fingers brush against your arm when he gestures, the touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

You try not to think about it, you try to tell yourself it’s all harmless, but the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you feel the light breeze of his hand moving past yours.

Walter, ever the observer, doesn’t say much. His gaze stays fixed on Darian, his jaw tight, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t break his calm composure. He shifts in his seat, his fingers brushing lightly over yours.

Darian talks on, his words still light, but there’s something sharper about his gaze now. His eyes flick over to you a little too often, his smile lingering too long.

You open your mouth to respond, but Darian speaks again, his tone softer now. “I bet you two don’t get many moments like this,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, almost conspiratorial. “With all this power, all this beauty around you. What is it really like?”

You swallow, uncomfortable under his gaze. But before you can answer, Walter’s hand is there again, a solid presence over yours, grounding you. The touch is brief but deliberate, a warning, perhaps.

It’s enough to make your pulse quicken.

Darian leans in again, his breath too warm against your ear. “She’s a lucky woman,” he says, and his words hang in the air like a challenge.

The subtle tension snaps, just for a moment, and Walter’s voice cuts through the space between you. “Is that what you see me as, Darian? A symbol of power?” His voice is quiet, but it carries weight.

Darian chuckles, brushing off the question with a wave of his hand, but his eyes are anything but casual. “No, no. Of course not.” But the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, it lingers in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

The conversation moves on, but Darian’s gaze doesn’t leave you. You feel it, heavy and possessive, every time you shift in your seat. It’s subtle at first, his eyes following you just a little too closely, his words dragging on too long.

Suddenly, Walter shifts and stands up without a word, excusing himself to another room to check on something. You didn't catch what, after all, you could always ask him later.

You watch him go, but before you can process it, Darian’s voice comes low and close again.

“You know, you don’t have to stay with him forever,” Darian murmurs, his voice rough with something darker. “You could have anyone you want... someone who knows how to truly treat you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and a cold shiver runs down your spine. You glance at him, but before you can respond, his hand reaches out, brushing yours with a cold touch that makes you pull back instinctively. His fingers tighten around your wrist, far too firmly.

“You deserve someone who sees you,” Darian whispers, his eyes dark, unsettling. “Someone who knows what you need.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your instincts telling you to pull away, but before you can do anything, the door creaks open.

Darian smiles. “You’re quite lucky, Walter.” His voice is smooth, addressing the man who just reentered the room. “To have someone like her.” His hand, which was on your wrist, moves up your arm, finding its way to your shoulder and creeping still further.

You squirm in your seat, edging backwards, desperate to get away from him. But it all happens too quickly to process.

One moment, Darian’s hand is where it shouldn’t be. Next, Walter’s grip is around his wrist, unyielding. Darian's sharp inhale that follows is the only sound in the room before he drops his hand from you.

Darian’s breath stutters. His fingers curl against the force of Walter’s hold.

“Let her go,” Walter murmurs, his voice low, even.

Darian flinches, his balance shifting as Walter twists his arm just slightly, just enough to make his point.

Darian grits his teeth. “I didn’t mean-”

Walter tightens his grip.

Darian exhales sharply, his body folding slightly toward the pressure.

“I told you to let her go,” Walter growls, his voice cold and full of venom.

You sit, frozen, watching as Walter’s strength overtakes Darian’s resistance. Darian’s other hand grips Walter’s forearm, struggling, but it’s no use. Walter’s grip tightens, and his eyes never leave Darian’s, a fury burning behind them that’s hard to ignore.

For a second, Walter’s gaze flickers to you, sharp, possessive, full of something dangerous. Then, without warning, he shoves Darian back into the stone wall with a force that knocks the air from his lungs. Darian crumples, gasping for breath, but Walter doesn’t release him.

“You don’t get to touch her.” Walter’s voice is deadly low, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to think for a second she’s yours.”

Darian’s chest heaves as he scrambles, trying to push himself up, but Walter steps forward again, his boot pressing into Darian’s stomach, forcing him back to the ground with a sickening crunch.

“I invited you to my home. I gave you the courtesy of a seat at my table,” Walter murmurs, dangerously calm. “And you mistook it for equality.”

Darian wheezes, gasping for air. He pulls Darian up by his collar, his face inches from his. The venom in Walter’s eyes is unmistakable.

“We are not equal.”

Finally, Walter pushes Darian away with one swift motion, his hands leaving him to collapse back onto the ground.

Walter doesn’t spare him another glance. His chest rises and falls with controlled breaths as he turns to you, his dark eyes still burning with an intensity that pins you in place.

Then, without a word, he steps toward you.

The kiss takes you by surprise. It’s not soft. It’s fierce, hungry, his lips molding to yours as his hands grip your waist and pull you flush against him. There’s heat behind it, a release of everything simmering beneath the surface, his anger, his dominance, the undeniable desire between you.

It’s a kiss that demands surrender, and you give in without hesitation.

The silence stretches when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His breath is warm against your lips, but his hands remain firm on you, steady, grounding. The world around you feels like a distant hum compared to the sharp focus of Walter’s gaze on you.

There’s something raw in his expression, something unguarded. His fingers brush along your jaw, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the shape of you. For the first time since the night began, his touch is gentle.

"Are you alright?" His voice is quieter now, still deep, still commanding, but with a thread of something softer woven through it.

You nod, though words still evade you. Your heart pounds, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of him, the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, the way he fought for you without a second thought or even an ounce of hesitation.

Walter’s thumb brushes over your cheek, lingering there for a breath before he exhales, his control tightening like a leash on whatever storm still brews inside him. Then, without another word, he takes your hand and leads you away.

The grip of his hand is firm, his every step deliberate, carrying you both away from the wreckage of the evening, away from Darian’s ruined pride and the tension that still lingers in the air.

He doesn’t stop until the doors of your chambers close behind you, shutting out the world beyond.

The moment the lock clicks into place, the air shifts again.

Walter turns to you, his gaze sweeping over your face, down the length of your body, as if reassuring himself that you’re truly here, unharmed. Then, in a single stride, he’s on you again, his hands at your waist, his lips brushing yours in something softer this time, but no less demanding.

"Tell me if it’s too much," he murmurs against your lips. But there’s no hesitation in his voice, only quiet certainty, the command of a man who knows exactly what he wants.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him. "Don’t go slow," you breathe, a teasing smile playing at your lips, but the need behind your words betrays you.

Walter’s lips twitch, a knowing smirk ghosting across them before he claims your mouth once more. His hands slide up your back, pulling you against him, his touch steady.

He gently lowers you onto your bed, his gaze never leaving yours. His movements are deliberate, slow, but each touch, each brush of his hand against your skin makes your breath catch.

You know he’s still in control, but there’s a new tenderness in the way he moves.

His hand slides down your side, settling at your hip as his lips trail down your neck and across your collarbone. The kiss is soft at first, gentle, but with each movement of his mouth, there’s more heat, more urgency.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin.

His lips brush against your ear, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slide lower, gripping the fabric at your hips. His fingers bunch it up, pulling it up above your hips, so that your lower body is fully exposed, save for your underwear.

“You’re still so put together,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice low, a hint of amusement breaking through his tone.

“I think I prefer you undone.”

His hands move to the hem, slipping beneath it, fingertips brushing against bare skin as he pushes it higher. The cool air kisses your exposed thighs, a contrast to the warmth of his touch. He moves slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric gather in his grip.

Then, his fingers find the sensitive spot on your inner thigh, and you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes you. Your body already responds to him, your breath hitching as he spreads his hand over your leg, his grip firm but reverent.

“Relax,” he coos, voice dark. “Let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you sweetheart.”

His fingers graze higher, just barely skimming where you crave him most, teasing you, coaxing you. The heat between you intensifies, your pulse quickening as he takes his time. You feel the fabric of your underwear shift under his touch, a barely-there pressure that makes your breath stutter.

He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours, waiting, always waiting for you to yield to him completely. And then, without another word, his fingers dip lower, dipping into you. His thumb presses against you, drawing slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending another wave of shocking heat surging through you.

The pleasure builds slowly as his fingers push deeper, stretching you just enough to make you gasp in anticipation. His eyes never leave yours, watching you, loving your every reaction. You arch your back slightly, your chest rising and falling with each breath as he works you with expert precision.

"Good?" He asks, his voice is barely a whisper, but you hear the quiet edge of possessiveness in it.

It drives you wild.

You nod, unable to string together a coherent sentence, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as your body betrays you, every slow movement of his fingers sending waves of pleasure through rocking through you. He picks up the pace just slightly, his fingers finding a rhythm.

You can feel the tightness building within you, a coil winding tighter with each press of his fingers before a wave crashes over you. You gasp, your body trembles in his hold, your fingers curling in the sheets as the pleasure surges through you. You barely have time to catch your breath before Walter’s voice fills the silence.

“That’s it love,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

But before you can fully come down, before the rush fades, Walter’s fingers don’t stop. He shifts between your legs, his thumb circling you again, this time with more pressure.

It’s nearly too much, too overwhelming, you’re already so sensitive that the second one comes quicker, more intense. The gentle but relentless pressure of his hand sends you spiraling once again, your body jerking beneath him as a second climax rips through you.

It leaves you breathless, the feeling almost too much to bear. His thumb doesn’t stop moving, just coaxing you through the aftershocks.

Walter watches you, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he takes in the way you tremble beneath him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin as you try to steady yourself, but the way his hands continue to roam your body tells you he has no intention of giving you a moment’s respite.

“Feel good, love?” His voice is smooth, knowing.

You nod, still breathless, and his lips find yours again, softer this time, as if savouring the moment. His fingers trace down your sides, slowing when they reach the fabric still clinging to your skin.

“Tsk,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding lower. “Still dressed. That won’t do.”

His fingers toy with the waistband, tugging just slightly, enough to make you squirm. “I should take my time with this, don’t you think?” His lips brush your jaw, trailing lower as his fingers slip beneath the fabric. “After all, you look so pretty when you beg.”

You let out a soft whimper, hips shifting involuntarily, and Walter chuckles, a deep, satisfied sound. Then, without warning, there’s a sharp tear of fabric as he rips your underwear away in one swift motion.

“Much better,” he murmurs, tossing the ruined scrap aside before dragging his fingers down your newly bared skin, making you shiver. “I do like you like this, nothing in my way.”

But then his hands drift higher, fingers gathering the fabric of your dress still bunched around your waist. His lips curl against your skin as he hums in mock disapproval.

“And this?” he muses, toying with the material. “We won’t be needing it anymore, will we?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he slips the dress over your head and tosses it aside in one smooth motion. The way his gaze sweeps over you, his eyes hungry, makes heat pool low in your stomach.

He lets his hands explore, slow and teasing, before he pulls back just enough to unbutton his own shirt. His movements are deliberate, unhurried, letting you watch as he undoes each button with practiced ease. When he finally shrugs off the last piece of clothing, his gaze finds yours again, dark and unwavering.

He moves between your legs, pressing his body against yours, the heat of his bare skin searing against yours. His touch is still gentle, still teasing, as he guides your thighs apart, positioning himself between them.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” he purrs, dragging his lips down the column of your throat. He gives you no time to answer before he tilts your chin up to claim your mouth in another kiss, leaving you dizzy.

Then, just as you’re lost in the feel of him, he thrusts inside in one slow, unrelenting motion, stretching you, filling you completely. A gasp catches in your throat at the sensation, at the way your body responds to him instantly, moulding around him in a perfect fit.

His movements are slow at first, giving you time to adjust, his hands on your hips guiding you as you both find your rhythm. He looks down at you, eyes dark with desire but filled with something more.

He’s still focused on your comfort, on making sure you're okay, but you can tell he’s losing himself in you, the control slipping with each thrust.

He shifts his hips, finding a new angle, and you gasp, the pleasure shooting through you again, sharper than before. He doesn’t pause, just continues, each thrust deep and slow, bringing you closer to the edge again.

“One more for me, love,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I know you can.”

His words are a challenge, a command, and you find yourself rising to meet it, your body responding to him, every inch of you connected to his as the pressure builds once again.

With each thrust, you feel your body tightening, the coil winding tighter, and when you finally let go again, it’s overwhelming. He doesn't slow, still chasing his own high. Your hands clutching at his shoulders as you lose yourself, surely leaving marks.

Then he groans, his pace faltering as he follows you, his body tense with the force of his release. He holds you close as you both come down from the high, his breath hot against your neck as you lie together, wrapped in the quiet aftermath.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low. “So perfect."

As Walter looks down on you, watching you be this horny needy little blood doll of his, he can't help but chuckle. Watching you whimper and moan as you grind yourself against the tip of his shoe as you wrap your arms around his leg. Wet, fuckin soaking wet and needy for him you look up at him and bite your lip.

"I'm so wet… so needy…" You whimper. "I need you, Master." You whimper.

"Do you now, Blood Doll?" He asks with a slight arch of his brow.

"Oh, yes Master, I really… really need you. I need you to fill me. I need you to feed on me." You whimpered as you graze your bud against his shoe.

With a soft chuckle, he takes your chin and forces you to look at him. "Beg for it." He states.

Biting your lip you look over his face, your hands sliding up his hips, over the front of his pants pawing at him.

"Please, Master… Please. I need you, so badly, I need you to fuck me, I need you to feed on me. I need your guidance. Please… Please Master." you beg.

"Aww, look at you. Stand up." He demands.

Standing up you look over his face, biting your lip you let out a soft whimper as you press yourself against him. He reaches his hand between your legs and feels how soaking wet you are.

"Now what do we have here my sweet little Blood Doll? Are we soaked?" He asked.

"Yes, Master, that's how badly I need you." You state nodding.

"Well now… I'm sure that can be arranged." He chuckles with that charming smile of his.

Turning you around he makes you face the outside yard as he places your hands on the railing of the gazebo. As he feels himself stiffen from your arousal he groans and slips his hardened member between your folds and groans.

"You're such a needy girl." He groans softly.

"I'm always needy for you master." You moan softly as you grip the railing and let out another soft moan.

As he kisses your bare shoulder he moves the crook of your neck and sinks his fangs right in. You let out a slightly louder moan and grip the railing tightly. Looking down you see the blood from the bite drip down your chest, you bring a hand up and wipe it across your chest, smearing it into the skin as you let out another moan.

Run.

That was the only thing on your mind right now. Your feet hammered against the ground as you ran through the hallway. Your heart pounded against your chest, body aching. Your bag along with your phone was long gone as you ran for your life. Whoever that was, whatever it was that you were running away from, was not human. It looked like one, it sounded like one, but you knew better. An ominous growl came from behind and you could hear footsteps towards you.

You sprinted around the corner and took many twists and turns throughout the house, but every door you came to was somehow now locked, despite not being earlier. Running a few more feet down the hall you managed to find an unlocked door. You quickly ran into the room and silently closed the door before locking it.

It was another bedroom. The windows were barred and there were no other interconnecting rooms. You were screwed. The only places to hide were under the bed and in the closet. You decided against trying to fit your large dress under the bed and slipped into the surprisingly spacious closet. After what felt like an eternity of silence, there was a jiggle of the doorknob. A menacing laugh was heard on the other end of the door, before a large bang, and the door flew open.

Peering through the cracks of the doors, you saw him. You could see his shadow in the dimly lit room as he walked past your hiding spot and looked around. As he padded further into the room, you slid as far back as you could into the clothing, praying he wouldn’t know you were there. Through the thin slots of the closet door, you could see he was just standing there. Almost like he was thinking. Your eyes closed, and you silently hoped he would just go check somewhere else. That’s when you heard it.

"There you are."

Your eyes shot open. The door to the closet was pulled open, and he was staring directly into your soul. You quickly duck as he reaches out to grab you and somehow manage to make it to the other door. Just as your hand goes to turn the knob, a pair of hands reach around your waist, and you let out a scream you didn’t even know your voice was capable of creating. For a split second, you feel the wind around you, then the bed sheets violently connect with your back. You wished the mattress would just swallow you whole. Too afraid to look at the monster hovering above, you turn your face to the side. The creature finally speaks.

“Well, that took longer than expected. Had me thinking you’d actually make it out of here.”

“We had a deal.” There was nothing to hide how your voice trembled. The bed shook as he actually laughed.

“I don’t think you quite understood the rules of the game, honey. The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…” His hand finds its way around your throat and your shaking continues as he forces you to look at his face. The only thing catching your attention are the two abnormally sharp canines in his mouth. “Then you would stay here, with me.” He looks around the room and then back at you. “Last time I checked, you’re still in the house sweetheart.” He sees the tears running down your face and brushes them away with his other hand. “Don’t be so sad about it. Think of it this way. I try to be a man of my word. If you did find some magical way of making it outside, I would’ve let you go. No surprises, no tricks, nothing… but you didn’t. Do you know what that means?” His grip around your throat gets tighter and you feel a small amount of blood run as one of his claws scratches the side of your neck. He takes a deep inhale and groans. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen in fear and you want to move, but you can’t due to his grip around your throat. He turns your head to the side and you close your eyes. Not wanting to know what he’s going to do. Reaching down to your neck, he sticks his tongue out and licks up the bead of blood that gathered on your neck. Your entire body shakes. Moving his head, you can feel his fangs graze against your ear as he whispers. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.”

“AND CUT!”

Thomas’ hand instantly leaves your throat and he takes your hands to pull you up so your back is against the headboard. “Are you alright? You were shaking really bad.” Not trusting your voice at the moment, you nod your head and laugh nervously. “Dude, you’re scary as fuck.” He laughs in response and wraps his arms around you in a hug. You do the same and the director, Oliver, comes over to the side of the bed visibly concerned. “Are you two okay?”

Looking over at Thomas, he gives you a smile and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. You nod and smile. “Yeah, we’re good Oli.” He offers his hand and helps get the two of you out of the ridiculously large bed. As you straighten out your dress, Oliver speaks again. “I know we only did one take, but that was probably the best one we’ve gotten since filming started.” He turns and looks at you. “There was no point throughout the entire scene where I wasn’t genuinely scared for you. If the two of you keep this up, we might finish ahead of schedule.” The two of you thank him and walk over to his chair to watch the playback of the scene.

One of the assistants brings water for the two of you and you both thank her. Oliver plays the scene back from the beginning and instead of focusing on your own work, the second Thomas appears on the screen, and suddenly you feel the heat making its way through your body.

He looked really good.

And those fangs…

You could melt into the floor right about now. Oliver and Thomas are talking but you can’t manage to listen in on the conversation, let alone say anything. Your attention was on Thomas and how he managed to look attractive and terrifying at the same time. There were times when you swore the only reason he signed onto this film was because he liked being a bad guy. It was like he reveled in it, and he did it so well. Your eyes stay glued to the screen and you don’t notice Thomas watching how you respond to his presence.

You tossed your keys onto the counter of your hotel room, your shoes come off and you let yourself fall back on the bed. A loud sigh leaves your lips. There has never been a day that you wanted filming to end so badly. After a couple of seconds, you throw your phone on the charger and finally pull yourself up from the bed, grab your towel and clothes, and head for a much-needed shower. You quickly change and when the temperature is just right, you step in and immediately feel your shoulders relax.

As you wash your body off, you start to think to yourself, why were you so worked up today? After the first scene with Thomas, every slight brush of his hand against yours, or hand on your back sent a wave of heat throughout your body. Simple motions that are seemingly harmless in nature were reducing you to a trembling mess. Granted, you don't have a partner, so sexual frustration could definitely be the cause, but why now? You feel the heat spread to your core just at the thought. Shaking your head, you finish your shower and change into your shirt and underwear that you brought into the bathroom with you.

After drying your hair, the steam from your previous shower dissipates as you walk into the other room and you look around confused.

You could've sworn you kept the lights on.

Shaking your head, you cut on the soft light on your nightstand and reach for your phone.

Which was not on the charger where you left it.

Now you're starting to freak out.

Looking around the room, it seems like your phone is nowhere in sight. Almost like it disappeared. You check your bag, in case you didn't actually plug it in, but it's not there. Nothing in the clothes you wore that day, hell, you even checked your suitcase. Your phone is just gone. Going over to the hotel phone, you pick it up and try to dial your number, only to realize the phone cord is missing from the base. You stand there frustrated and a little scared for a couple of seconds before a voice snaps your head towards the front door.

"You didn't think I'd make it easy for you to call for help, did you?"

Slowly reaching for the heaviest thing closest to you, the shadow walks into the light and you let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Thomas. You can't sneak up on someone when they're fresh out of the shower!" Walking over to him, you ask. "So unless a crazed fan managed to break in, I'm assuming you have my phone?" He pulls something out of his pocket and you see the familiar case, indicating he did in fact, have it.

Flashing it in front of your face, you reach to grab your phone, but he leans away from you so you can't take it. "Yeah, I don't think you'll be needing it tonight." Giving him a "Really?" you go to get your phone and he pulls it away from your grasp once again. Letting out a frustrated huff, you put your hands on your hips. "Come on Thomas, give me my phone. I have to check my emails." You see him toss your device behind him, lucky that there was a couch sitting where it landed, and when he turns back to you, he speaks again. "Like I said. I don't think you'll be needing it tonight. After all, why would I make it easy for you to call for help?" Your eyebrows furrow, and you laugh, although slightly uncomfortable with how the air in the room seemed to shift. It felt, darker. Every bone in your body told you to leave. Turning around to look for a pair of pants, you mumble to yourself. "Alright, I did not plan on my night ending like this."

Turning around, you let out a scream and drop your sweatpants as a hand comes up and covers your mouth. He was standing so close you could feel his breath on your face. Looking Thomas in the eyes, they were dark, and you suddenly felt like you were no longer safe in his presence. "I don't think you quite understand the rules of the game honey." He stares into your eyes and the next thing you know, your feet are walking backward on their own until you are stopped by the edge of the bed. He remembers his hand is covering your mouth and speaks again. "The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…Then you would stay with me. Do you know what that means?” You struggle to get out a couple of muffled sounds when he brings his face closer to yours. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen as the lamp in the room shows his face fully, and that's when you see it.

He was in the outfit from the first scene you two filmed earlier that morning. You glance down at his mouth and you feel the heat pool at your legs.

He had the fangs in.

He leans his mouth down against your ear like he did earlier that day, and repeated the same line. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Next thing you know you're being laid down on the bed, and the man you once knew as your friend was hovering over you. "What do you want with me?" Your voice was weak, and judging from the smile that never left his face, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying toying with you. He leans down and drags his tongue against your neck, earning a strained whine to leave your mouth. "I simply want what I've been waiting this whole time for…you. I've seen the way you look at me when you think nobody is watching. And it made me want to take you then and there, but no. I couldn't do it with so many people around. So, what better time than now? Your phone is off, the landline is disconnected, and as far as anybody coming to rescue you goes, they all think you're headed to sleep with the rest of the cast."

If there was any time to hate yourself for not wearing pants to bed, now was that time. Thomas moved your legs apart with his knee and ground his hips into you, showing you just how tight the bulge in his jeans had become. You let out a small gasp that he managed to catch, and he let out a smile. "Something tells me you're enjoying yourself more than I expected. I don't even think I'll have to compel you." His large hands lift up the bottom of your shirt, exposing your underwear, and you shiver as the cool night air exposes you in such an intimate place. He carefully pulls the thin fabric down and off your ankles with ease, and your body goes tense. He looks you in the eyes and asks the last question you thought could ever come out of his mouth.

"Do I have your permission honey?" You shift needily against the bed as you let out a small "Yes." That's the only approval he asks before his fingers gently reach down and feel the wetness between your folds and you sigh quietly. A groan leaves his lips. "Is all that for me baby? You like it when I touch you like this?" His slender fingers brush against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, making you unknowingly moan. "There we go. You're such a good girl for me." He does it again, and again until he's rubbing gentle circles on your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. Your body relaxes into the bed as Thomas continues whispering into your ear. "That's is baby. Relax. It's just you and me. I want you to enjoy this."

He was taking his time with you, and to an outsider looking in, it was almost sweet. Not long after, the fear left your brain and was replaced with nothing but bliss. He must've been able to tell when your last fighting bit of sanity faded because he became more eager. "There's so much I want to do with you, honey. I want to taste you until you cum on my tongue. Wanna feel you clench around my cock as I ravish you." His hand on your clit sped up a little. "I wanna see the look on your face when you come undone because of me. At first, I didn't think you could take it. But I know you can. I know you can take all of me. I know you can handle everything I give you because you're such a good girl, and I know you wanna be good for me. Right baby?" Your small whimpers have progressed to moans as you stop fighting the sensation and start to welcome it.

Out of nowhere, the feeling is gone as he removes his fingers from your clit, but quickly replaced them when he lays down and licks through your folds. Your breathing was fast and heavy as his tongue went to work. The sensation builds when he slips two fingers into you and easily starts pumping them in and out. You were almost there, and he could tell. He moaned against your clit and gently grazed it with his fangs, and that was all it took before you exploded. You threw your head back against the bed as you came, and Thomas latched onto your clit sucking on it to prolong your orgasm for as long as he could.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean before standing up and discarding his clothes in an almost superhuman nature, before he's back to hovering over you. His lips attach to yours and you eagerly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "If you taste that good, I can only imagine what you feel like." Looking down at him, your eyes get wide.

He's not abnormally huge, but definitely bigger than any man you've been with to date. He rubs his cock between your folds and you moan at the overstimulation, still coming down from your high. He rests his hand on the back of your head and looks you in the eyes. "You're going to take all of me, yeah?" You can only nod as you no longer trust your voice. He leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss again as he slowly pushes inside you.

He releases your mouth to let out a moan, and by god… this was the moment you realized you were in over your head. Every time you thought he was fully in, he would slide in more, and more. He finally bottoms out and you swear you're seeing stars. No, fuck that. You were seeing galaxies. He only gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before he pulls himself almost all the way out, and sinks back in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The pace was brutally slow but felt wonderful. You couldn't pay attention to anything but how he felt, and it felt ungodly. He finds his own rhythm within a few thrusts and it was like you died and went to wherever the hell you were currently. He brings his other hand from around your waist and slides it down to your leg, wrapping it around his waist and allowing him to sink in just a little deeper, and you cry out.

A smile forms on his lips and he keeps his hand on your leg, refusing to let you not feel the full extent of what this angle could provide. Noticing your hands are gripping your bedsheets, he moves his hand from behind your head and takes your own to grab at his body. He thrusts into you again, and again, over and over, the new angle allowing him to drag his cock against just the right spot that drove you wild. Leaning down to rest his forehead against yours, he pants out. "Fuck, baby. It's like this sweet pussy of yours was made for me."

You could feel your second orgasm building and lord help you because you were so close. Thomas seemed to notice as well, your walls practically trying to suck him in completely. He speeds up his pace ever so slightly and that's when you feel the pressure of his hand going around your neck. He leans down and talks into your ear. "I can feel you're close honey. God. I'm going to put a fucking baby in you. Would you like that? You want me to cum inside this gorgeous little cunt, huh?" You moan and try to nod as your nails scratch up and down his arms and back. "Yes, yes Thomas, please!" He laughs a little at how you answered him. "Aw, yeah? You're so cock drunk you're begging me to cum inside your pretty pussy?" He makes you look at him as your eyes keep closing. "Beg for it again, and maybe, if you're good for me, I'll let you cum."

Your voice is nothing but whimpers and whines as you plead with your eyes. A chorus of "Please." leaves your mouth and that satisfies him to the point where he is kissing and sucking on the side of your neck. "I want you to cum, and I want you to let everybody in this hotel know whose cock is making you feel this good. Can you do that for me?" You just nod as you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge. He applies more pressure against your throat, and that's all it takes. As your climax begins, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and you let out a struggling moan from the sensation as you cum. The only name on your lips is his over and over, like a broken record. Thomas moans against your neck and he starts to tense, holding you as close to him as possible. He seats himself as far into you as he can, and the warm feeling of his cock shooting his cum inside you only prolongs your orgasm.

After the two of you finally come down from your respective highs, he turns the two of you on your side and lies there. Giving you a chance to intake some form of oxygen. You pant out a weak "Oh my god." and you feel the rumble from his body as he laughs. "I told you, adding the fangs would be a great idea." It takes every ounce of energy in your body to raise your arm and playfully hit him. "Shut up, that was God tier even if you didn't have them in." He laughs again and as he agrees, you ask, "Where the hell did all that dirty talk come from?" Thomas shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "A master of his craft never reveals his secrets." Playfully rolling your eyes, a yawn escapes your mouth.

Thomas pulls out of you and you sigh sadly at the loss of contact, only for him to pull the blanket over you and get up off the bed to grab your phones. You watch as he plugs them both into the wall and climbs back into bed before cutting the light off. Cuddling into his chest, your legs intertwine and you both lay there in comfortable silence, until a thought pops into your head, making you laugh a little. "What's so funny?" You think about the situation and explain.

“Your eyes look so heavy” he cooed as he kept gathering you and turning the tv off in the process. “I was watching that” you said and he tuts you as he picks you up and starts heading to your bedroom.

“You my darling we’re so close to dozing off and we cannot have that. Your health is far more important than some show” he says as he gently places you down on the bed. You grumble in response to tired to reason with the vampire.

You eye him as he takes his shirt off and paces to the other side of the bed. He gets under the covers and pulls you closer to him, holding you against his bare chest.

Sure enough, the next morning, you met Walt, Viktoria, and Lucy for one of your final human breakfasts, at which you discussed your future.

Walt arranged for some of his workers to go back to your apartment and fetch the essentials you wanted for your…extended stay, and then, the girls helped you pick a dress for the ceremony.

Everything went pretty smoothly, all things considered, and you were now cemented into their family and, well, their eternal lives.

Lucy had welcomed you into their very non-traditional family before Viktoria had. She was very sweet, with her wide eyed optimism and open arms.

Meanwhile, Viktoria was optimistic, but kept her distance. She had seen so many people come and go from the De Ville manor, she wouldn’t be surprised if something happened that scared you off.

After the wedding, there was a reception with all three of the families present, drinking, dancing, and celebrating the fresh union. You and Walter shared a very romantic dance together, and afterwards, he was pleasantly surprised when Viktoria requested a dance with you as well.

You were a bit nervous. Of your three new spouses, Viktoria was the most intimidating, after all. She was incredibly graceful and balanced, though, now that you’d been through your transformation, you were becoming so as well.

“You look beautiful, darling. So glowing and fresh.” She told you, her voice as smooth as velvet, her fangs protruding somewhat from her row of otherwise straight, white teeth.

“Thank you. You’re…you’re absolutely stunning.” You confessed, a zing zipping through your chest when you said it, although your moment of uncertainty faded quickly when you saw the surprised grin overtake her features.

The two of you didn’t talk much after that, but the tone between you had shifted entirely. Her smile seemed warmer, more genuine.

After the festivities, Walt, Lucy, and Viktoria escorted you, for the first time, to the Master suite. It was more lavish than you could possibly imagine. There was a bathroom en suite, and dominating the large bedroom was a gigantic bed, perhaps the largest bed you’d ever seen in real life.

“(Y/N), my love, is it to your liking?” Walt asked, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing it slowly.

You nodded, walking into the room slowly. “It’s amazing. This is all so…amazing.” You shook your head in disbelief. “It all still feels like a dream.”

“Well, luckily, you are very much awake.” Walter’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind and he pulled your body against his. “Welcome to your new reality.”

After some late night wedding…festivities with the three of them, Lucy and Viktoria helped you into fancy silk pajamas and Walter pulled you into the large bed beside him, kissing you deeply before settling in slightly.

Lucy hesitated for a moment before climbing in beside you. “Is it alright if I put my arm around you?” She asked, her voice quiet and unsure. “I sleep better if I’m holding something…”

“Absolutely, Lucy. I love cuddling.” You reassured her, pulling her arm around you while you were snuggled into Walter’s side, Viktoria on his other, watching you with her fierce and beautiful gaze.

Walter chuckled, amused. “I really could not have chosen a better match, could I? You already fit right in, my love.”

"My personal taste of heaven," he murmurs in a deceptively sweet voice before his lips move over your inner thigh. Before you can protest, pleasure spikes through your body, so intense and potent and hot, that you cant even make a sound.

He can hear your frantically racing heart, feel the rush of blood pumping through your veins, and he can smell your fear and arousal. It makes him want to ruin you in ways you can't imagine, makes him want to ravage and cherish you.

He leaves your trembling thigh, wiping his bloodstained mouth with his thumb. " Fuck you're sweet, angel. Marry me."

You slump back down, back hitting the sheets. "No." Your voice comes out on a wispy breath despite your efforts to remain stern.

He laughs, amused by your platry attempts to deny your place as his queen. He swiftly moves, positioning his face above your dripping, glistening pussy. So pretty. So wet for him. Traitorous little thing reveals just how much you've been lying to him. He'll reward her while punishing you for your insolence.

"It wasn’t a question." He opens his mouth right over your throbbing clit. "You. Will. Marry. Me."

You don't get the chance to say no before he descends, pulling your clit into his mouth. His piercing blue eyes watching as you arch off the bed, a beautifully desperate noise escaping past your lips.

~

The cab was slow to pull into the impressive driveway, and you were taken aback by the even more impressive mansion. Or manor. You didn’t know if there was a difference, and if there was, if it even mattered. You tipped the man well, lips parted as you got out and looked around. It was apparent that you were out of your element, but you didn’t care.

Your sister’s wellbeing depended on it.

With a bit of reluctance and a deep breath, you knocked on the door. With as large as this place was, you wondered if anyone would even hear you. However, with as large as this place was, you didn’t doubt there were butlers or maids walking around. Someone had to answer the door.

You were just about to lift your fist again when the grand door swung open. You were greeted by an older man, countenance stern with his lips pressed together. He didn’t look the happiest to see you, and for a moment you’d almost forgotten why you were here. You cleared your throat, reaching into your purse.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greeted. “I’m sorry to disturb you…”

You trailed off with a light scoff before shaking your head.

“Actually, I’m not sorry,” you corrected yourself, and the man’s eyebrows rose. “My sister is missing, and this was the last residency the maid service sent her.”

You pulled out a few pictures of her, but before you could even get them sorted good, the man before you spoke.

“I am sorry, but we don’t know anything about a missing girl,” he sternly told you.

You frowned and reared back a bit. Both his tone and his expression left no room for argument, but you ignored that. With a huff, you forced the pictures into his hand despite his visible discomfort.

“If you could just look at them just for a moment and tell me if she even ever showed-.”

“Miss-.”

“I understand that whoever you work for,” you gestured to the extravagance of it all “doesn’t want to be tied to a missing person, but I don’t care. I need to find her, and if you could at least tell me if you remember her then that would be very helpful.”

The man seemed like he was gearing up to refuse you again when another voice interrupted him from over his shoulder. The older man’s expression fell a bit, and you didn’t miss how much more subdued he seemed at the arrival of this new person. Before the man was even revealed to you, you guessed that this was his boss.

When he came into view, your lips parted.

Calling him handsome seemed like such a disservice. The grandest of understatements, but you lacked the proper vocabulary at the moment. His features were so sharp, face sculpted in a way that was almost uncomfortably handsome. Inhuman. His dark hair was so neat, and it only made his blue eyes stand out even more, pink lips pulled into a small, crooked smile as his gaze met yours.

He drank you in slowly, as if trying to memorize every detail of you, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Uh…hi…”

“Hi,” he slowly replied, a twinkle in his blue gaze.

“Do you…? Are you the…?”

He seemed to understand what you were trying to say.

“I am the lord of this manor, yes,” he replied with a perfect grin, hands sliding into his pockets.

You nodded.

“I was just telling your…friend that my sister is missing, and I need help finding her. Desperately,” you added.

His features smoothly shifted, brows furrowing, and face pinched in concern.

“Well, that’s terrible. Please, come in,” he urgently told you, reaching out to gently place his hand on your arm as he guided you through the threshold.

The door was loud as it shut behind you, and you blew out a breath at the realization that the inside was probably even more impressive than the outside. You could hear the two of them talking, and when you turned around to face him, the older gentleman was handing the other your pictures. He was gone without so much as another glance at you, and you grimaced.

As you watched him flip through and study each photo, you spoke.

“She works for a maid service, but… She has been known to pick up the odd job here and there on her own,” you sighed. “Which makes my job a little bit harder, but this was the last place I knew her to be.”

He glanced up at you at that, head still facing the pictures in his hand as he peeked at you from beneath his lashes.

“It was the last place the service sent her, and she could’ve easily gone on to do five more jobs after this, but I figured this is where I needed to start. Just to see if she even showed or if any of you remember her?”

He stared at you for a painfully long time before his gaze fell to the pictures again. He hummed, tilting his head, and you became hopeful.

“I remember her quite well,” he eventually said, and your sigh of relief was loud.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, stumbling towards him. “Did-did she say where she was going after this? Did she stay the whole shift or event?”

There was another question that you didn’t voice.

Did she even leave?

“She worked the entire event, yes,” he eventually replied, handing the pictures back to you. “I remember how much I admired her work ethic. She left with the rest, but she did mention another job to one of the other maids.”

He continued before you could ask him about that.

“She didn’t say where.”

Your face fell, and he tilted his head at you, curiously eyeing you.

“Walter DeVille,” he finally introduced himself, a hand extended.

You weakly shook it, fighting back tears as you belatedly introduced yourself. You were just about to thank him for what little he could do when his next words shocked you.

“If you’ll accept, please allow me to help you in any way that I can…”

You blinked at him, and he stepped closer.

“I have so many resources at my fingertips, and she worked for me. It doesn’t matter that it was only one time, but it wouldn’t sit right with me to do nothing when I could do so much,” he elaborated.

“Are…are you serious?”

You were somewhat in disbelief, but the smile that graced his pink lips put you at ease.

“As a heart attack,” he smoothly replied, pearly whites winking at you. “I can tell she means a lot to you.”

“She does,” you softly confirmed, and his smile turned sad.

“I take it you’re staying at some dreadfully mundane hotel or something?” he wondered, looking around before his gaze fell back to you.

You chuckled at that with a nod.

“The minute her silence went on a little too long, I took the earliest flight I could get and whatever room was available,” you told him.

He had started to walk, and you found yourself following him.

“That must be costing you a fortune,” he surmised.

He wasn’t wrong, and you confirmed it.

“By all means, allow me to open my home up to you during the search,” he offered.

You’d only known the man for mere minutes, and his ability to shock you over and over was a talent.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you laughed him off, but he didn’t join you.

He slowed to a stop when you did, and you frowned at him.

“I feel compelled to help you and your sister, and…it seems silly and almost cruel to let you shell out money for some mediocre motel when you could get great service and accommodations here for free.”

It was like the man knew you were broke, and perhaps he did with one look at you. It didn’t seem smart in a safety sense, but eventually your money would run out and then where would you stay while you searched for your sister? There was no telling how long this would take.

Besides, some part of you recognized that it was his misplaced guilt talking. He clearly felt some moral responsibility to help you, a desire to find your sister that could probably rival yours. After all, the man was evidently important, and it was easy to guess that he didn’t want her disappearance to be connected to his name, at all even if just in passing.

Before you could stop yourself, you were saying ‘yes’.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that…”

You trailed off, hand falling with a sigh as the older woman waved you off. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having someone tend to you in this way, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t get used to it. This wasn’t a permanent situation, no matter how much Mr. DeVille was going out of his way to make you feel right at home.

You silently reminded yourself that he preferred you call him Walt.

“Nonsense, dear,” Mrs. Swift told you, opening your curtains. “You’re dealing with so much already and…all things considered, it’s the least I can do.”

She avoided your gaze as she said this, and you nodded.

An entire week had gone by, and there was still no sign of your sister’s whereabouts. You had expressed concern about the lack of newspaper ads or any sort of media coverage, but Walt had eased your worries.

“With the influence I have, trust me that I’m doing more than the average police ever could,” he’d told you.

You had witnessed his phone calls and emails of him reaching out yourself, so you believed him. The more time passed, the more your worry grew, and the optimist in you was slowly starting to lose hope. You had to remind yourself that that wasn’t an option though. You had to find her because the alternative was too much to consider.

You ate breakfast alone as you often did here, but you weren’t bothered by it. Walt had joined you one day, and although he mostly picked at his food and sipped his drink, you appreciated the company. He made you feel better about all of this and even served to take your mind off of things for a while.

It was the third day in a row that you decided to walk the grounds. Some days you assisted Walt in helping locate your sister, but sometimes you felt like you were more a hinderance than anything. The man just seemed to have everything covered so well that it made you feel useless, and when you brought up going out and seeing if anyone had seen her, he’d been adamantly against it.

“A lone woman going door to door in a strange neighborhood to locate her missing sister? I feel bad enough that she’s nowhere to be found. I don’t think I could take it if you winded up in the same boat,” he’d sweetly told you.

It was cool out, a soft breeze making you shudder, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. With slow steps, you found yourself heading towards what Walt had described as the icehouse. He hadn’t taken you inside, and you’d been thankful. You had been cold enough as it was.

The distance from the manor didn’t seem like that much until you looked back. You felt so…isolated out here, and you found yourself eyeing the structure in wonder. You weren’t exactly sure why, but with nothing else to do, you wrote it off as simple curiosity. While there were some places in the manor that Walt had expressed were off limits, which was more than fine with you, he hadn’t explicitly said anything about the icehouse.

With a hum, you reached for the door.

“There you are.”

His voice startled you, and you turned to look at him with a smile. Walt was nearing you with a smile of his own, the sun glinting off of his cerulean gaze, and you forgot about the icehouse entirely.

“Mrs. Swift told me that you were busy in your office, so I came out here after breakfast,” you told him. “I figured it had to do with my sister, and you are practically a hero when it comes to that while I feel so…useless.”

He let out a soft chuckle at that, the sound twisting warmly deep in your gut.

“Useless? Never,” he purred, reaching for your hand. “I wouldn’t have nearly as much information about her to pass along if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, I suppose that does make me feel a little better,” you quietly relented.

You could feel his gaze on your face, and you looked at him to confirm your suspicions. It really was almost terrifying how beautiful Walt was, and you once again had the stray thought that you were shocked he wasn’t married or at the very least in a relationship.

“What?” you asked him.

“You really love her,” he said, almost in awe.

His brows were drawn together as he studied you, and you gave an awkward laugh.

“Of course. She’s all I have left…”

He didn’t respond to that, simply staring you down with a look you couldn’t name. Eventually, the corner of his lips curved upwards into the faintest of smirks before he pulled you along.

It was nighttime, yes, but it never unsettled you just how dark the manor was during these hours. The sheer size of it didn’t help things, and a simple trek for a glass of water felt like a maze straight out of a horror film. Weeks had gone by, and your sister’s absence was more obvious than ever, but that wasn’t the only thing that kept you up at night.

“This manor isn’t haunted, is it?” you’d asked Walt one day, and he’d laughed at you.

A real genuine laugh like you’d just told him a joke, and he had fondly looked at you like one would a silly child.

“I know it’s old, but no,” he’d drawled. “Certainly not haunted. I would know.”

That was what he’d said, anyway.

However, your disturbed sleep said otherwise. Either that or maybe the situation with your sister was finally getting to you. In truth, you had never really processed it, just sort of pushed it away. There was a very real possibility that something had happened to your sister, but you never wanted to think about it.

However, you knew that had nothing to do with the creaking you heard on the floors above you. Nor the way you’d wake up in the middle of the night with the overwhelming feeling of being watched. It got so bad that sometimes you had to turn your lamp on just to sleep.

You had never brought it up again. For one thing, you didn’t want to seem childish, but also because Walt was doing so much for you already. Between helping you locate your sister and letting you stay here, you didn’t want to take a mile when he gave you an inch.

And that was why you found yourself struggling to get a simple glass of water. You kept looking over your shoulder, legs shaky with every step you took. You knew that you were just being paranoid, confirmed when you turned the corner and walked headfirst into someone, bringing forth the kind of scream that would’ve embarrassed you if you weren’t so scared.

“Woah, hey…hey, it’s me…”

The voice was familiar and comforting, and you placed a hand on your chest. It did little to settle down your heart, and you struggled to see Walt in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, and Walt rested his hands on your arms. “You scared me.”

“I can see that,” he teased, attempting to lighten the situation. “What are you doing out of your room?”

His question struck you as odd, but you brushed it off.

“I was thirsty, and despite how much this place scares me at night, my need for water won.”

He chuckled at that, teeth visible in the dark.

“I’ll come with you then, keep the monsters away,” he told you.

You laughed at his joke, and a stab of guilt hit you. Sometimes you felt like you shouldn’t be enjoying yourself, at all with your sister still missing, but Walt made it hard. You felt much more at ease with him by your side as you got your water and went back to your room. His arm brushed yours with every step, and occasionally you’d glance up to already find his gaze on you.

“Why do you do that?” you finally asked him.

You were able to see his face more clearly thanks to the glow of your lamp coming from your room. He raised his brows at you and leaned against the wall in a way that had you shifting on your feet.

“Whatever do you mean?” he wondered, tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes with a slight huff.

“You know what…”

When he continued to play dumb, you continued.

“Stare at me like that,” you said.

He moved closer, brows drawn together now.

“Like what? Like I think you’re beautiful…?”

His words shook you, and you opened and closed your mouth, unsure of how to respond.

“…because you are. You and your sister have that in common,” he complimented.

It was sweet to say, and you were surprised by the level of emotion that overcame you at the mention of her. A few tears had escaped before you realized, and Walt’s fingers beat yours, brushing them away with a soothing sound.

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to-.”

“It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I just really miss her and…I need her to be okay.”

You took a few gulps of water, and Walt hummed.

“Tell me about her, things that can’t be put in an email or on a piece of paper,” he suggested. “What was she like?”

You were in your room now, and you sank down onto the bed with a sigh.

“Brave,” that was the first thing you said. “I swear it was like she didn’t fear anything.”

His expression was even as he listened to you, and he moved to sit down beside you.

“…and even if she was afraid, she was going to face whatever it was head on.”

Your voice cracked, and you frowned.

“I don’t even want to consider the impossible, I don’t, but…if something did happen to her, I know that she fought like hell.”

Walt glanced down at that, a soft sigh escaping him before he lifted his gaze to you with a smile. He reached up to place a hand on your cheek, thumb comfortingly brushing along your skin.

“Don’t think like that,” he said. “Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s fine.”

His words didn’t reassure you much, but you nodded anyway. He helped you into bed, and you sent him a grateful smile. He seemed reluctant to leave the lamp on when you asked him too, but after some time, he relented and closed the door on his way out.

It was your second month at the Carfax Estate when you started to get…antsy. Perhaps that wasn’t the right word, but the same sentiments applied. You saw with your own eyes how hard Walt worked to find your sister, and yet…you felt like nothing was actually happening.

The thought seemed unfair to you. After all, it wasn’t as if Walt merely existed to search for your sister. He did have a life of his own before you came along, and that wasn’t going to stop just because of your presence. However, you remembered the last time you asked for a more detailed update or any kind of evidence of what he’d found so far, and how you’d been….brushed off?

Again, your wording didn’t seem right, but you didn’t know what else to call it. He had immediately brought up something that wasn’t quite relevant before the conversation shifted onto another topic entirely. You hadn’t even remembered that you’d been expecting an answer to your question until hours later. It seemed odd, and while you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, this whole situation was starting to become strange.

Especially when you suggested leaving.

“I’m starting to feel like I’m taking advantage, especially when I don’t seem to be actually contributing to anything,” you had said.

Walt had been as calm as ever as he rounded his desk, taking your face into his hands.

“Nonsense,” he had replied. “I am not letting you leave until we find your sister.”

It was sweet in theory, but the idea that he wasn’t ‘letting’ you make that choice didn’t sit well with you. That uneasiness only grew when you actually did try to leave one day. Just to go into town and ask around about her. Your cellphone hadn’t been able to work to even call a cab, and when you asked about a landline, Mr. Fields told you that the phone lines were being worked on.

You had frowned at that, but before you could ask about it any further, the older man had left you. Anytime you brought the topic up after that, it seemed like you were always steered in another direction. Walt would tilt his head at you, the faintest of smiles on his lips, and he’d touch you in some way that both comforted and excited you before sending you along like a placated child.

It left a bad taste in your mouth.

The night your rose-colored glasses cracked was a night in which you couldn’t sleep. The manor was just too quiet in a way that felt suffocating. You’d been gazing out of your window and into the night when you saw a figure coming out of the icehouse. It didn’t take long to recognize the figure as Mr. Fields, but this simple action wasn’t what made your heart sink.

It was the large shape he seemed to be dragging out of the structure with him.

Your frown had deepened, and you would’ve pressed your face further against the window if it were possible. Whatever it was didn’t seem heavy enough to give him difficulty, but certainly heavy and large enough to be unable to just…carry. Worst of all, you swore your mind was playing tricks on you because the shaped looked an awful lot like a body.

It was after that when you started to notice things you’d brushed off before. Like the way the only familiar permanent staff members were Mr. Fields and Mrs. Swift, any other maid or server or cook not staying long enough to fully remember. The faint thuds and footsteps you would hear throughout all hours of the night that you’d convinced yourself came from outside.

Even Walt, with his charismatic eyes and blinding smile, had managed to tell you practically nothing about himself while making it seem like he’d told you a memoir worth. And sure. You heard him on the phone and saw him typing out emails, but who was he really talking to? Sending them to? This situation was starting to seem less and less cozy.

It was 4:30 in the morning when you decided to go for a jog around the property. God knows it was large enough, but you also had a need to clear your head. You were approaching the icehouse when you found yourself slowing to a stop. You thought about that night you saw Mr. Fields, and you also thought about how you’d never been inside.

Granted, you had never voiced a desire to, but Walt had also never even offered.

With a sigh, you paused your music, turning the brightness up on your phone before carefully opening the door. You were surprised that it wasn’t locked, and realizing that your brightness wasn’t enough, you turned on the flashlight. It looked as ordinary as one would expect, and you scrunched your nose at the faint smell of something you couldn’t quite place.

You shined the light around, taking it all in with an even expression, starting to convince yourself that everything was all in your head. You pressed your hand to your forehead, chuckling to yourself at how silly you were being when your light caught something that stuck out to you. Whatever it was, it glinted, and you moved closer to it.

You shined your light on it…and froze.

There, at your feet, was a familiar white gold necklace. It was a simple 18-inch white gold rope chain. The pendant was a white gold heart with a blue sapphire stone in the middle. You knew that because you’d bought it. You knew that because it was your sister’s.

And perhaps you would’ve come up with another reason as to why it was there. Perhaps you would’ve told yourself that it had simply fallen off during her shift here maybe when she came out here to get something or put something away. Maybe it had fallen off somewhere else and some animal carried it in here. You would’ve told yourself that…

If it wasn’t for the dried blood.

All of the air in your lungs seemed to leave you.

You reached for it, suddenly very much aware of how alone you were out here. With shaky hands, you put it into your pocket, and exited the structure. The severity of what this meant wasn’t lost on you, and you struggled to keep your food down. You furiously blinked before slowly closing the door.

You walked back to the manor on autopilot. There was a loud ringing in your ear, and your mind was going a mile a minute. Her necklace felt so incredibly heavy in your pocket, and despite the turmoil going on inside of you, your expression was even when you came face to face with Walt the moment you stepped inside.

“Walt,” you breathed, a soft smile crawling onto your lips. “Going for a jog too?”

It was a silly question. The man wasn’t dressed for one. His blue eyes danced over you as a smile of his own graced his lips, gaze fond as he stared at you. You watched his nostrils flare slightly, and he hummed.

“No, I’m not much for jogging. At least, not like you are.”

“Shame,” you chuckled, walking past him. “It’s so cool out. That’s the best time to go.”

He didn’t follow, and you looked over your shoulder at him. He stood by the door with his hands in his pockets, gazing at you like he was looking right through you. You swallowed and wished him a good night, and when he did the same, you wanted to be sick.

“Your dedication to your sister is commendable.”

Those were the words you woke up to, startling awake with a gasp. The room was dark seeing as you’d forgotten to leave the lamp on. Or had you? It didn’t really matter, you supposed, and one glance around the room revealed a shape in the chair across from your bed that wasn’t supposed to be there. You hurried to turn the lamp on, and when light flooded the room, you almost wished you’d left it off.

Walt lounged in the fancy chair before you, one leg thrown over the other as he simply…stared at you. His expression portrayed one of amusement, and your heart raced for more reasons than one. Your decision to rest for a few hours before coming up with a plan to get the hell out of here and to the police was clearly the wrong one. You were sure that Walter DeVille was a murderer, or at least covering up for one, and here he was watching you sleep.

You didn’t like being so close to him, and you liked the way he eyed you even less.

Your lips parted when he held up his hand, a familiar necklace dangling from it. He eyed it with a hum, raking his gaze over it, and a few tears spilled over. You didn’t know if you were just that blind or if he was just that good, but it took a truly sick man to pretend to help you like he had. God, he’d even comforted you whenever you worried about your sister, and the whole time…

As you watched him eye her necklace, you wondered how he even found it.

“I blame myself,” he eventually said, confusing you. “If only I had done a better job of vetting her…”

You frowned at his words.

“I like to make sure there are no relatives or concerned friends or loving partners who will come looking,” he continued. “It makes all of this go…so much smoother.”

You were starting to understand what he was hinting at, and you wanted to be sick.

“So imagine my shock…and eventual elation when you turned up on my doorstep,” he hummed, looking at you again. “So…fiery. So determined to bulldoze anyone in your way who’d prevent you from finding her.”

You sat up more, and he stood, making you freeze.

“Even for me, it seemed rather…cruel to toy with you like I did, and I considered a number of ways to simply send you on your way,” he sighed. “…but then you got curious and suspicious…and here we are.”

“What did you do to her?” you finally forced out, voice shaky and tone angry.

He grinned at you, and your eyes were glued to the sharpness of his canines. Your frown deepened, disbelief filling you.

“She served me well and went quickly. That’s all that matters.”

His answer sickened you, and you made another move when he moved closer, and you eyed each side of the bed. The situation you found yourself in wasn’t lost on you, and more tears escaped.

“…and while I’m not quite sure what I’m eventually going to do with you…”

You looked back to him at that, watching as he placed the palms of his hands on the end of the mattress. You eyed the length of his nails, brows furrowing at their sudden change.

“That is a bridge I shall cross when I get there.”

He slid his hands further, and you moved back. You felt the headboard behind you. His grin widened, expression sinister and eyes gleaming.

“As for tonight…”

The scream you let out was blood-curdling, feet kicking as he grabbed your ankles. You reached out to grab onto anything as he yanked you down, and your hand hit the lamp. It fell to the ground with a loud shatter, the room bathed in darkness once again. You fought against someone you could barely see, blindly kicking and hitting. Only half of them connected.

By the time he had your hands pinned beside your head, you were sobbing, chest heaving. He shushed you, voice sounding as gentle as it always did, but you knew it was a lie. He was a lie. The sweet and charming man that you had even grown to like did not exist. Instead, a murderer sat in his place, and you pushed against his hold. When that proved fruitless, you let out another scream.

It died pathetically into another fit of sobs.

“No one will hear you, darling,” he purred, gently kissing your mouth. “…and even if they did, they would not help you. I am not the one who disposes of my messes.”

You already knew that, accepting that you really saw that night, and you cried harder.

“We were getting along so well, weren’t we? Hmm?”

He kissed down your face, lingering at your throat before he opened his mouth, grazing his teeth over your skin. You shuddered beneath him, and Walt hummed.

“That was before I knew you murdered my sister,” you spat.

He moved your wrists, forcing them together before pinning them above your head with one hand. You struggle was useless, Walt a thousand times stronger than he looked. His free hand danced down your front, fingers tapping against your nightgown as he exhaled.

“Murder is such a harsh word… It was necessary, I assure you. After all, I have to eat too, right?”

He chuckled at his own words, and your brain fought to deny what it had long figured out. He kissed your throat again, fingers sliding up your leg and beneath the smooth fabric. He giddily hummed when his fingers brushed over you, and before you could scream again, the sharpest pain imaginable could be felt at your throat.

A choked gasp escaped you, eyes widening and rolling at the feel of his teeth in your skin. You bucked against him, pain and pleasure warring within you, and Walt pinned your body down with his. He snarled against your throat, the feel making you yelp, and your hands struggled to release themselves from his grip.

His other hand was busy, successful even when cool air met your skin. You felt yourself growing weak beneath him, and by the time he pulled away, you could barely muster the strength to fight him. He kissed you, lips soft and bloody, and you cringed at the taste of yourself.

You could feel the tip of him poking at you, and when he pushed his way inside of you, it was slow and torturous. He groaned at the feel, and you gasped, head thrown back and arms straining. He buried his face into your neck when he sheathed himself inside of you to the hilt, basking in the feel of you wrapped around him.

His free hand ran down your body, happily touching your skin. Walt pulled his hips back until only the tip of him remained before thrusting into you again. His pace was slow and purposeful, and his free hand found its way to your face, turning your head to face him so that he could kiss you again. His lips hungrily moved against yours, teeth nipping at them and tongue seeking yours out.

He took his time fucking you, with you pinned beneath him and no means to fight him off, he clearly saw no reason to rush. And he was right. No one would hear you, and those who could, wouldn’t care. You wondered if your sister went through something similar, or if he simply drained her dry like nothing more than cattle. The thought brought forth more tears, and Walt heard you.

“Hush now,” he purred, kissing your cheeks. “Everything is out in the open with us.”

You felt his nails digging into your thigh as he forced it along his waist, hips pressing against yours repeatedly. He slid in and out of you with ease, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you fought back a moan.

“No more secrets, and no more lies.”

He talked as if they had been little white lies instead of the murder of your sister and his true nature. He laved his tongue against your neck, tasting the excess blood before biting you again. You gasped, wrists sore from his tight hold, eyes open and focused on the ceiling now. He hummed into your skin before moving his mouth downwards.

When his teeth sank into your breast, you weren’t able to hold it in anymore. A shaky moan escaped your lips, followed by a stronger one, and you clenched around him. He moaned too, pulling his head away before pressing open mouthed kisses along your skin. Every thrust made you shake, and the tears that escaped now, you didn’t know if they were from pain or pleasure.

This man was the devil.

He was making you feel things that you didn’t want to feel. He was forcing sounds out of you that you didn’t even know was possible, and you hated him all the more for it. He was your sister’s killer…and he was fucking you like his life depended on it. You didn’t know if you’d live to see tomorrow, or if you’d even live to see the next 30 minutes. A large part of you didn’t want to.

After all, he was the reason you were alone in the world, and you silently prayed that the next time he sank his fangs into you, he’d just drain you dry.

~

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