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This is the third night.
Apparently, from some of the more prolific works, the third night is when it happens.
Seto still thinks it’s a load of bull, but his neck aches, and the heavy circles under his eyes say otherwise. This time there will not be any strange dreams. As a precaution, all his windows are locked, the balcony doors as well, and there is extra security prowling the grounds.
It’s the sound of the clock that wakes him, the heavy lull of it’s ticking and the low tone of it reaching three in the morning. An old, comforting sound of a grandfather clock.
His eyes flutter open in surprise. He doesn’t own a grandfather clock. And yet there is no sign of where the noise came from in his room. Perhaps a dream, again?
Distractedly his hand lifts to his neck, brushing the fabric of the turtleneck he wore to bed this evening. No chances. Underneath, the sport’s bandage gives him a strange sense of security against the darkness of the bedroom.
“Tsk. Way to make a guy feel unwelcome, Kaiba.”
“That’s because you aren’t welcome.” Seto growls out acidly, reaching for his cellphone on the bedside table, only to find it missing.
“Looking for this?” The intruder holds up the phone with a playful smile, and pointedly drops it on the ground with a sickening cracking, “Oops. Clumsy me. No big loss though, after all, we wouldn’t want anyone interrupting our private time, now would we?”
Seto stares down at the phone, it’s frame in pieces scattered on his floor, and swallows roughly.
“What do you want from me?” He hisses out angrily, suddenly furious that this has gone on so long.
“The same thing I always want. Your blood. You’re positively delicious, Kaiba. So why don’t you behave, and maybe this time I’ll be gentle, hm?” The voice purrs, slinking through the dark easily, prowling towards Seto’s body on the bed.
“I have no intention of letting you do anything to me. You’re second-rate, even with this.” Seto is ready for the fury the offhanded insult causes, and as the monster pounces drives a knife upwards.
The blood that gushes out over his hands is almost painfully hot, and the pained hiss is oddly satisfying. Twisting it in a bit deeper, he struggles to keep the monster from biting down on him in it’s thrashing.
“You fucking bastard!” It yells at him, managing to fight away enough to yank out the knife and put pressure on the wound, “Christ, what the hell was that made of?”
“Silver.” Seto stands shakily, annoyed that the blonde threw the knife out of reach. At least it seems to have bee successful. The creature wobbles on it’s feet, swaying slowly, “Tipped with sedative, which I am pleasantly surprised seems to be working effectively.”
Striding over confidently, he watches the monster stagger back. A predatory smirk curves his lips as he stops by it, enjoying the way it bares it’s teeth at him uselessly,
“After all. Never let it be said I am one who doesn’t rise to a challenge, mutt.”
Katsuya whimpers softly, trying to nestle his head into the soft fabric to ease the throbbing of his head. The ache is only made worse by the raging hunger that leaves his limbs weak and mind dazed. The clinking of metal peaks his curiosity, and reluctantly he lifts his head, realizing the noise follows. Peering at the offender in bewilderment, he belatedly realizes that is is, in fact, a chain making the noise. A chain attached to a sturdy collar around his throat.
“What…”
“Good to see you’re awake.” Seto’s voice is darkly pleasant, and he tosses a few chilly clear bags at his captive. Katsuya picks one up, eyes widening when the deep red liquid inside casts a coppery scent.
“Go ahead. You must be starved, after losing all that blood.”
No more prodding is needed, Katsuya bites into the bag and drinks needily, draining the first easily and moving to a second. It takes the fourth bag until he slows enough to question,
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
“Because I’m keeping you.” Seto leans down, hand warm against the monster’s chilly skin as he tilts Katsuya’s head upwards to steal a light kiss,
“You belong to me now.”