Work Text:
He was a good man, before Juliana.
He had provided for his sisters and nieces. He made sure men kept their hands to themselves around the female staff. He had never raised his voice to a woman, let alone a hand.
His sister and nieces were long dead.
I need you to hurt me, Juliana used to say. Hurt me. I need you. Why won't you hurt me. Don't you want to? Don't you love me?
Isaac tried to deny it, as he did with all of his ill-advised desires. He loved her. He wanted to hurt her. He could not let her know either, and often failed to do so. Something inevitably slipped through the cracks.
Strangely, the two impulses were not conflicting ones. No, if he hated Juliana - like he so often told himself he did - he could turn his back on her, satisfied with the knowledge that nothing made her tear herself apart more than his apathy.
Juliana in the present day sang a different version of the same song. Don't you want to hurt me? What will it take for you to hurt me? How far will I have to go before you wake up and hurt me?
Nearly killing one of the few people Isaac cared about, apparently.
Damn the sun and its blistering pain. Isaac squinted through the blinding daylight, only protected by an umbrella.
If it weren't for the weakening sunshine, the apartment door would have been hanging off its hinges. Juliana jolted awake seconds before Isaac dragged her out of bed and shoved her into the nearest wall, hand on her throat, seething and snarling with righteous fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Isaac?" Juliana asked dumbly, wide-eyed and slow with sleep. He doesn't have time for this -
"That stunt you pulled last night - Don't look at me like that, I know your new boyfriend doesn't so much as blink without your say so. You sent him to Red's university." Juliana was boneless in his grip. He shook her roughly, partly to wake her up, partly to indulge his rage. "Where is that freak, anyway?"
Juliana closed her eyes, brow furrowed, like it took real effort to recall the whereabouts of her boytoy. "He - got tied up - 's staying at a hotel for the day… Isaac, it's - "
Her words died in her throat when Isaac sank his fangs into her neck. Warmth flooded his body as he drank, a warmth he had not felt in nine years. In the decade that had passed since he had last tasted her blood, he had thought memory had romanticized its taste. Yet her blood on his tongue was twice as intense as he remembered.
Had she let Milovan drink from her? Did his blood run down her throat, into her veins, and now into Isaac's? Disgust coiled in his chest.
Juliana moaned lowly, shifting in his grip. Isaac was suddenly aware of the proximity of their skin, of Juliana's half-undressed state.
Isaac remembered - before Juliana had shed her skin and revealed her true colors - when it was only the two of them in the world - how she would come home from a hunt, giddy and high on the lifeblood of three or four people, how she'd stumble into his arms and whispers sweet nothings and promises she wouldn't (or couldn't) keep into his ear as he drank from her, because he didn't have the stomach for hunting himself but lacked the morals to stop either of them from feeding off of the innocent and unsuspecting - her body pressed against his, his arms holding her close - how she'd kiss him and lick her blood off his lips, how she'd guide his hand beneath her skirts - and he'd lay her down on their shared bed and they would make love until the sun rose, so close that he could hardly tell where husband ended and wife began -
Isaac jerked away from Juliana, taking care to put several feet between them.
He couldn't trust himself around her. How could he let himself forget that?
Juliana sank to the floor, lips parted and eyes glazed over. Red dripped down her neck, staining her bra. She looked up at him with what could only be described as reverence, like he truly was the saint she called him. God forgive him, he was hard.
Isaac made for the door, scarcely remembering to grab the umbrella he had tossed aside when he had broken into her apartment.
He was vaguely aware of Juliana calling after him - he yelled over his shoulder, "Don't follow me!" and sped out of the parking lot, praying it was enough to deter her. He hated the power she had over him. He hated that she always found a way to make him lose all sense of reason.
Guilt and regret tore up his stomach. He didn't stop driving until he was on the other side of the city, far away from Juliana and the siren scent of her blood. He couldn't get the damn taste off his tongue. She was inside of his teeth. She was inside of his head. Inside his heart. She had made him into this - thing. Her blood, her very presence had corrupted him. She had made him unclean. She could hardly be called a woman; he was no longer a man because of her.
I hate her. I don't care about her. I don't love her after all she's done to me. After how she treated our daughter. I can't. What kind of man would I be if I still loved her? She is disloyal - a murderer - cruel and blasphemous - she is not a good wife -
Revulsion turned in his guts. Isaac shuddered, and unbuckled his pants.