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It's only been five days since they shut her up in here, and Anantae has already run out of books.

She considers demanding more. Her parents don't know magic exists, don't know she's a witch (she made carefully sure of that) but they know she's headstrong, know she's good at getting her way when it suits her enough.

It will certainly suit her enough before she gives birth. She's not thrilled about being pregnant at all, but she's even less enthusiastic about the idea of having a baby and then having it taken from her.

She puts her finished book aside and flops back on the bed and sighs and ponders the feasibility of inducing miscarriage by witchcraft and passing it off as natural. She's not convinced yet she can do it without seriously hurting herself, but maybe she'll think of something clever.

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Or maybe a tall man in dark clothes will appear out of nowhere directly on top of her, put his hand over her mouth, pin her to her bed, and fasten his teeth in her throat.

No? She wasn't expecting that one? Well, why not?

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Because she wasn't aware that that was a thing that could happen???

She tries to shove him off her.

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It does not work. She might as well be wrestling with a block of granite.

The bite hurts, and - something more than hurts - it's like he's set his fangs in the heart of her power, the very substance of her life, and is draining her essence away. It goes in a rush, at first, but after a few swallows he slows down, and then the feeling of being pierced to the core and drunk dry is much less like pain and more like pleasure.

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--Aaah.

It's good, but--she needs that--she manages to scrounge some power to put in her arms, until she's strong enough that if he was granite she could push him off her--

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Still nothing, except that the stronger she gets, the more heavily his weight presses her into the bed. And then he drains her some more, and she doesn't have enough left to do magic, barely has enough left to move at all—

—and something else pours through her in a shuddering rush, drawn up from deep inside, a spark of life that isn't quite hers, lost down his throat in a single swallow—

—and he pulls his fangs from her neck, heals the marks they left, licks the blood away.

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She is breathing hard and has no idea what just happened--but oh that felt so good--she whines softly when his teeth leave her throat, against her better judgement, and gasps a little when he licks her.

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He laughs, and kisses her. His lips taste like blood.

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Mmm. Lovely.

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"What are you?" she murmurs after a little while.

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"Hadn't you guessed? I'm a vampire."

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"...Didn't know vampires existed."

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"Well. Now you know."

He kisses her again and then lies down next to her, which incidentally means he is no longer pinning her to the bed.

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She snuggles up. "So why me?"

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"Life tastes sweeter from someone who knows how to use it. I've been following you for a while, waiting for the right time."

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"I guess that makes sense.

Wait, does that mean you were there when--"

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"Mmhmm."

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"And you didn't do anything about it? Jerk."

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"I'm not a very nice person. And it was fun to watch."

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"You could have interrupted halfway through," she suggests, "played the vigilante hero, swept me off my feet, and had me right there with my thighs still sticky with what they had done to me."

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"Oh, if only I'd thought of that," he murmurs.

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"And then maybe you could have helped me get home without my parents finding out what had happened. Win-win."

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"Well. Too late now. Besides, would you have wanted me, if I'd said I could've stopped them sooner but I liked the look on your face?"

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"Might depend on exactly what point you interrupted. And whether you pulled out the magic sex fangs first, because wow."

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...he giggles.

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