Chapter Text
[N]ine Lives || GaBerTom || [T]wo Encounters in Italy || GaBerTom || [N]ine Lives
Title: [N]ine Lives: [T]wo Encounters in Italy
Disclaimer : All rights reserved to me. Reviews are more than welcomed.
Tags: polyamory (m/m/m), fantasy, werewolves/vampires, physical hurt
Main Pairing: GaBerTom (pre-relationship)
[N]ine Lives Characters: Tomas Niun, Gabriel 'Gabe' Kim, Alberto 'Berto' Allegro
Summary: Writer's Month Prompts: bow + fantasy AU. All Tomas had wanted was a nice little vacation in Italy. Instead, he ran into a witch hunter. Barely escaped, he finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place – or rather, between a vampire and a werewolf.
[N]ine Lives
[T]wo Encounters in Italy
Tomas was panting hard. The gash on his side was burning hotter than the fires in hell. Or at least Tomas was pretty darn sure of that. Maybe he was also just completely losing it. Who knew.
There was one thing he was sure he was losing – and it was his consciousness. Also blood. Those two were probably related. The edges of his vision started to blur. He couldn't tell how much longer he'd have before he would fully lose consciousness. Fainting was never a good look. Fainting while on the run from a witch hunter? Potentially deadly. He couldn't do that. What a pathetic way to die.
'How did Tomas Niun die?' - 'Oh, I heard he fainted in the streets of Portofino from blood-loss.'
He really did not want to go out like that. This could not be his legacy. And he could not do this to his family. His siblings. His niblings. His parents. No. No. He had to keep going.
Taking a deep breath – as deep as the pain in his side allowed – he pressed down harder on the seeping wound, trying to keep as much blood inside as possible. And then he took a step. And another. Slow, agonizingly slow. This wasn't working. At this pace, there was no way he would be able to escape. The hunter would catch up with him and he'd be done for.
He shook his left hand, curling his fingers inward one by one, starting with his little finger. That motion, he repeated it three times. Five times. Seven. By the ninth, there was a spark. It wasn't much, barely a flicker of poisonous green, licking around his fist like tame flames. Not much, but something . A chance. A maybe. Taking another deep breath, deeper than the last, pushing past the pain, he pressed his balled fist against his chest and then thrust it away from himself with as much force as he could muster. The sparks flew free and what had been a small flame caught fire.
Not literal fire. The Niuns were not of pyrokinetic magic, but Tomas liked the metaphor.
Screams of surprise and soon enough, true chaos. A distraction. Enough for him to duck into the panicked masses. Hunched over, he continued on his way, even without a destination.
Where could he even go? He was alone. Nobody was here who could help him. Was this what he got for ditching his sister for a day alone? He was completely unfamiliar with Portofino, there was nobody here who knew him. His family, yes. Everybody knew the Niuns; or at least everybody in their circles. Everybody who could potentially help. For that, he'd need enough strength and awareness to introduce himself. Okay. Okay. Okay. That was half a plan.
Quarter plan? Quarter plan. Find the nearest witch family and ask for asylum and aid.
Now, if only he'd paid more attention to these kind of lessons. Important families, who ruled what city. But that had always bored him. He had much rather hexed his sister.
Damn it. He had to keep going. He could hear steps. Hectic step. Not from the panic anymore, he'd moved away from it. So it must be the hunter. Okay, scrap the quarter plan. He was in need of something more immediate and much, much more desperate.
The walls weren't high, but they were sturdy. Not a fence. Not see-through. He'd be hidden behind it. He grasped it with his not bloodied hand and hauled himself up with more or less ease. And then he jumped blind. All he'd have to do was lay low on the other side of it, at least until the hunter passed. And then he'd get to catch his breath and approach the owner of whatever estate he'd just broken into and ask for help, make up a story of a mugging or something. He could spin that.
“Mh. How utterly peculiar,” deep voice, like velvet, with an American accent of sorts. “I don't remember ordering dinner and I've never had it delivered right into my lap.”
With much effort did Tomas open his eyes. He'd landed comfortably but hadn't questioned it. Or rather, it hadn't registered. The rushing of his own blood in his ears was all he could focus on. The pain was quite all-consuming and he was genuinely surprised he'd managed to make the leap. Adrenaline? Help from the ancestors? Perhaps a bit of both.
“And dinner smells delicious too.”
Right. Voice. Person. Focus. Tomas' vision was still blurry but things came more into focus now. A face. Man? Asian. Korean, maybe? High, sharp cheekbones, eyes darker than midnight, hair falling gently into his face. Eyes now red like spilled wine. Oh. Oh, that wasn't good. Vampire . Tomas tensed, every muscle in his body contorting at once as he stared into the red eyes of the vampire. The color turned from their midnight-dark more and more into a clear, bright red. Hypnotizing.
On a list of people one should not run into when all alone at night, both witch hunters and vampires ranked pretty high. Now, if Tomas only could remember which one ranked higher . Not that it mattered much; he could hardly say 'Excuse me, please just hand me over to the witch hunter instead'. Dead was dead. Burned, or drained of all his blood. The last thing crossing his mind before the darkness finally consumed him and his vision faded completely was: Great, instead of dying by fainting in the streets, you're going to die because you fainted in a vampire's lap while bleeding out because you delivered yourself like some kind of present nicely wrapped with a bow on top...
/ [N] \
The pain was only a dull ache when Tomas regained consciousness, though that was not the most surprising thing. The most surprising thing was that he regained consciousness at all. Had the vampire not drained him? An old vampire, then. Only inexperienced newbies killed if it wasn't necessary; old vampires survived by knowing the rules and having self-control. Those who didn't kill lived longer. The next thing that registered in his mind was how soft the sheets beneath his fingers were. His eyelids fluttered open slowly, just to be squeezed shut again right away. Too bright. With a groan did he reach up to cover his eyes with one hand.
“Hey. Sh. Don't try to sit up, you lost a lot of blood.”
New voice. Not the voice from last night, he noted duly. There was an accent. He tried the whole opening his eyes thing again, this time while not looking directly at the open window that let in all the blasted sunlight. Different person. Muscular. Strong arms, broad shoulders. Also handsome.
“Hey there,” the young man grinned at him in a carefree manner. “How are you feeling?”
“Where am I? Who are you? Where is-”
“Rude,” ah. The voice from yesterday. “Usually, people say 'thank you'. Try it for size.”
“Thank you for not draining me after you called me dinner,” Tomas narrowed his eyes, turning his head into the direction the voice had come from. “Which, people usually consider rude too.”
The vampire was sitting in the corner farthest away from the window, in a tall armchair. An amused smile on his lips as he regarded Tomas. Then he motioned toward the window. Without words, the other one followed the command and went to close the curtains. Dark, heavy and long curtains that blocked out the sunlight completely. Once it was shut out did the vampire get up.
The other one, was he a vampire too? Tomas couldn't tell. Neither of them had red eyes right now. But then vampires only had red eyes when feeding or using their charms. Either way, Tomas laid tense. Waiting. There was nothing else he could do. He was completely defenseless here. Injured, weak, not even knowing where exactly he was.
“You are in our home,” declared the one Tomas knew for sure to be a vampire. “And if I may remind you, you are the one who broke in. And you were already bleeding when you broke into my house and interrupted my anniversary dinner with my husband. Which, again, quite rude of you.”
“Eh, I don't mind, I thought it was kinda funny,” commented the other one before straightening up. “Uh, I mean, not the bleeding out thing? I didn't think that was funny. Just, after we were sure you were definitely not going to die on us, I thought it was kinda funny that you just... literally fell into Gabe's lap, you know. Hi, again, I'm Berto, by the way. Werewolf, for your information.”
“Right,” Tomas sat up slowly, under mild pain.
Neither the vampire nor his husband moved. They just stood there, waiting. Watching him, with amusement on their faces. Once he stood fully upright and faced them both, he paused. The husband was... just ridiculously tall. Tomas had to tilt his head back to look the other in the eye. In comparison, the vampire was more on the short end. Now, Tomas couldn't suppress the slightly haughty smirk, because from this angle, the vampire didn't look all that menacing anymore.
The smirk lasted for about half a second, until the vampire's eyes shifted into a ruby-red and his casual, nearly amused stance turned into a more authoritative one. Apparently, the vampire was sensitive about his height and did not find this as funny as Tomas did. The next moment, without even knowing what was happening, Tomas found himself brought down onto his knees. Like gravity was too strong to fight. Not because of his injuries, but because of... the vampire's will-power. Once Tomas was on his knees did the vampire – Gabe – approach him.
The strict and dangerous look on the vampire's face shifted into one of pleased amusement as his elegant, long fingers curled around Tomas' chin, tilting his head up to look at him.
“Don't get cocky, little witchling,” Gabe warned him. “You're in my territory here.”
Tomas' pulse was racing, his blood was pounding in his ears, the only sound he could hear. The only thing he could see was the self-satisfied vampire in front of him. He tried to attribute the spike in his pulse to the pounding in his ears, but he knew it was something else. Something about the position he found himself in, on his knees, looking up at the gorgeous man holding all the power. Oh, that was so not where his mind should be wandering right now. Focus, Tomas. Focus .
“Witchling,” Tomas repeated the word, instead of focusing on his feelings. “You know who I am.”
“Well, not who, but what, yes,” the vampire stepped back again, looking more than pleased. “You bled all over my favorite shirt. The scent of your magic is strong. So, even if I can not name you, I do know your name carries weight. So we thought it... beneficial... to save your life. It always pays off having powerful witches owe you a favor.”
Tomas bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood to keep from saying something snarky in return, like 'I owe you nothing'. Because he did. He did owe these two his life . And right now, they were both still in a position to simply... take it. He was injured, weakened, on the ground. He'd be easy kill for either a vampire or a werewolf, pathetically easy to kill for the both of them together.
“...Thank you,” Tomas forced the words out. “I appreciate the help.”
“Damn, that wasn't convincing at all,” Berto commented amused.
He looked so aloof. Like all of this was highly entertaining to him and nothing else beyond that. Not Tomas' life on the line. Considering his height and muscles, this one held power – raw strength. Muscle over mind, that was what he'd learned about werewolves. The opposite of vampires. Mind over matter, pure strength of willpower. The power to impose their will on others. What a terrifying couple, a vampire married to a werewolf. Tomas forced himself up again. He needed to get out of here. Out of the vampire's territory; not just this villa, but this town. No. Better yet. Out of Italy. Never to see the hunter, or these two, ever again. That'd be safest.
~*~ The End... For Now ~*~