"I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that," the vampire said, looking genuinely upset by the thought of Damien leaving a mating mark on his pale throat.
Damien still didn't understand what his problem was – the vampire went around biting people all the time, so why would it be so disturbing to be bitten in return? Surely that was just retribution, right? The vampire had done his best to distract Damien from the crux of the issue, which was that he needed that bond-bite to complete the ritual, and he very sincerely doubted Brinn would appreciate any continued avoidance, distaste be damned.
He didn't like how earnestly the vampire seemed to want to avoid being bitten, though. He wasn't going to kill him, or drink his blood, or anything. He was just going to clamp down hard enough to leave a mark, maybe draw blood. But he'd heard vampires didn't bleed much anyway, so it might not even do anything. Why was Cain being so difficult about this?
"Can't get rid of me that easy," he said, trying to lighten the mood a little and failing miserably, if the glower Cain tossed his direction was any indicator.
"Unfortunately," the vampire drawled back, still looking a little queasy.
"What's the big deal?" Damien snapped. "I already told you, it's not the same as a vampire bite, it's not the same bond as a vampire bond, and it's barely going to draw blood!"
"It's not a good idea to taste vampire blood at all," Cain said. "That's how you get turned."
Damien blinked. "Wait. Really?"
"Generally speaking," Cain said. "Typically the human needs to have their blood drained first, then be fed the blood of their sire."
Damien frowned. "Is that what … the top vampire… did to you?" He'd forgotten the name of the head of the vampire castle, and honestly didn't really care enough to ask for a reminder.
Cain grimaced. "Yes, that's how Lord Solveig – or any vampire, for that matter – turns a thrall."
Damien considered that. "Wait, so any thrall could potentially become a vampire if they drink a vampire's blood?"
"Only if they've been drained," Cain said. "Frankly, I don't know what happens if that first criterion isn't met."
Damien realized he was getting off topic again. But he actually found this information fascinating. "So you admit that even if I did accidentally taste your blood it probably wouldn't do anything."
Cain's scowl spoke volumes, but he didn't actually say a word to contradict Damien's point.
Damien sighed. "Come on, I'm going to let you bite me way more than just once, the least you could do is let me have this one thing."
Cain's scowl deepened, but after a long, painfully awkward pause, he said, "...fine. Get it over with," and tilted his head, baring his throat.
Damien was not expecting the rush of sudden desire that flushed through his system, and if the sideye Cain suddenly shot his way was any indication, he'd sensed it, too. Smelled it, probably. That was embarrassing.
Even though all he wanted to do was bury his face in his hands in the wake of such a shameful reaction, Damien scooted a little closer to the edge of the bed where Cain was perched, curling his own hand around the vampire's throat. He felt the man shudder at his touch, then relax. His scent was different from a human's, but not like most other vampires he smelled. There was the scent of mate, of course, but also a strange cool scent, like a night breeze. Where Crowe had smelled like rotten filth, Cain smelled like a cold wind, or the stark face of an ancient mountain.
Slowly, Damien pressed his nose to the column of the vampire's throat, inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with that scent. Underneath him, he felt the vampire shiver again, and he caught the barest edge of fear in him. It made Damien recoil slightly, because mates weren't supposed to smell like that. There was supposed to be trust and love and loyalty, not fear and bitterness and suppressed rage.
But he could tell that the rage and the fear weren't directed at him, but rather at something deeper, more internally focused. Cain wasn't afraid of Damien or angry with Damien, he was afraid of himself. Angry with himself. It was a confusing thing to discover, and it made Damien's chest ache a little, his instincts wishing to relieve some of that pressure that seemed to be pressing in on Cain, to bear that burden together, rather than leaving his alpha to contend with such emotions all on his own.
"Don't worry," Damien murmured, his lips brushing against the cool column of the vampire's throat, trailing down to the point where the neck and the shoulder met, "I've got you." Then, with one more sharp inhale, his mate's scent filling his nostrils, he bit down.
Searing heat, ecstasy and possessiveness welled up in him. He felt simultaneously insatiably desperate to be closer to his mate, and yet also effortlessly at peace. After a moment, the intensity of the emotions softened into a gentle whirl, and then finally an eddy of warmth, hovering in the center of his chest, where he'd felt the bond all along. Now, though, it felt different. More satisfied, or possibly completed, as if the final piece had been slotted into a giant puzzle deep in his soul.
He pulled back, feeling overwhelmed and gratified, and looked to Cain, not sure what his reaction would be.
What he saw hadn't even been on the list of possibilities. The vampire was staring at him, wide-eyed, panic clear in his posture.
"What's the matter?" Damien asked, worried.
Cain swallowed, once, and said hoarsely, "Something's wrong."
Damien frowned. "What?" He reached out, not sure what he was going to do with his hand – lay it on Cain's shoulder, maybe?
Before he could, Cain reached up and covered the spot where Damien had placed his mating mark. "Something is very wrong," he repeated, voice strained, his hand shaking almost violently.
"What's happening?" Damien demanded, and finding no other way to occupy his hands, he ended up waving them around, almost-but-not-quite touching Cain.
"It hurts," Cain said through clenched teeth. "Burns like fire."
Fire for a human, or fire for a vampire? Damien wasn't sure if that was an appropriate question to ask, so he left it for the moment. "Can I help?"
"I think you've done enough," Cain spat, then groaned low, curling forward, nearly bending in half. "It's spreading," he choked out.
Damien lifted a hand to his own chest, feeling baffled. His own bond felt as it had since the moment he placed the bite: soft, warm, and comforting. But here was his mate, doubled over in pain, clutching at the mate-mark and clearly trying to swallow a scream of pain.
Cain had already been pale as a corpse, but somehow it seemed as though he'd grown even more pallid, his face practically gray. His fangs were bared, but it was clearly a grimace of pain, not a threat. He was sweating, which Damien hadn't known was possible for vampires.
"Is it getting better? Worse?" Damien demanded, still not sure what to do. He dared a quick pat on Cain's shoulder, and the vampire pulled away with a sharp snarl.
"Don't touch me!" He followed this with a choked half-sob, anguish written in his posture.
Damien pulled back immediately. "Sorry, I just thought–"
"You did this!" Cain snarled, lifting his head enough to glare at Damien. "You and your stupid goddess and your damn bonds and–" He groaned again, agony heavy in his tone as a millstone hung around a drowning man's neck.
"You think this is Brinn?" Damien demanded. "Why?"
"Because nothing burns like divinity," Cain snarled. "And–" he snapped his mouth shut, shuddered, and curled up even tighter, pulling his knees to his chest. "And this," he forced out, face tucked against his knees, panting heavily, "is divine judgement."
Damien felt his stomach clench. "I don't understand," he said miserably. "It's not an exorcism, it's a bond."
"Bonds are meant for the living," Cain snarled. "People with souls."
Damien felt his breath catch in his throat. Of course. Mating bonds were connected to the soul. But vampires… they weren't like other creatures. They were unholy monsters. Soulless. What happened to a creature with no soul when a soul-bond attempted to anchor in a space where only nothingness resided?
Cain was truly crying now, in too much pain to contain the anguish anymore. His tears were black, the color of his blood. Black fluid was dripping from his nose, too, and Damien found himself desperately hoping it was just snot mixed with tears, but felt quite certain it was actually blood.
He risked another touch, reaching down to pull Cain's hair back from his face, realizing that the sweat plastering it to his face had a gray tint to it as well. This time, the vampire didn't pull away, but Damien wasn't sure if that was because he was in too much pain to notice, or if he wanted the contact.
"I'm sorry," he said, heart aching despite the merry ball of warmth in his chest that represented the bond. It felt so wrong, that he felt nothing but delight in the bond, even as Cain was clawing at the sheets on the bed, digging his fingers into them like the claws of a maddened, wounded beast. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, wishing he had a cloth or something to wipe at the tears and sweat and blood all mingling and streaming down Cain's face.
He wondered, absently, as he sat helpless at his mate's side, if vampires could survive a divine bond.
Had he been fated for a lonely and miserable existence from the start? Had he merely been a pawn in Brinn's brutal game, a game piece she had used to tear down a vampire, a creature whose existence was a flagrant insult to all that the gods represented?
Was he at fault for this? For insisting the bond be sealed?
If he'd just listened to Cain, the vampire wouldn't be screaming his voice hoarse, wouldn't be clawing at the sheets, at Damien, at himself, begging for the torture to end.
And the worst part of it all was that Damien was utterly and completely useless. He'd done this, and he had no idea how to make it stop, or if it would ever stop. What if Cain just suffered like this for the rest of his undead existence?
"I'm sorry," Damien said again, drawing as close to Cain as he dared, daring another gentle touch, rubbing his back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "I'm so, so sorry."