aware (peterick)

23

He's mine.

Dominance, in its purest form. Patrick had dipped his head forward. He had crawled to sit at Dallon's feet when ordered to do so. "Sir" was the name he had given him when he offered to explain. On his knees. Dallon allowed him to explain, but Patrick never looked up from the ground. And in that single moment, everything fell into place.

It hadn't been difficult to get rid of WIlkes. Her cronies were dead. She'd been in so much shock, she hadn't even bothered to check the gun was loaded, and even if it had been, it wouldn't have done any more damage to Dallon than a scratch. He'd looked her in the eye and told her to forget everything, and also managed to convince her that Patrick wasn't even a vampire. It's called glamouring; a form of hypnotism, an extreme power of persuasion. It didn't make me feel any less terrified.

Patrick was too weak to stand, so Dallon carried him home.

As soon as we made it home, Dallon dug out the first aid kit, stitched up my wounds and stuck a butterfly needle into my arm for Patrick to drink from. It's a much cleaner, far more cautious method of blood consumption, meaning Patrick would regain his strength gradually, and hence would not kill me in the process. If Dallon weren't here to act as my supervisor, I probably would have let Patrick feed directly from my neck, and since Patrick was almost entirely malnourished, my death would have been inevitable.

Dallon is over five hundred years old. He's lived through countless wars, forced to watch his family and closest friends die. When you live through shit like that, life becomes extremely lonely. That was his motif for kidnapping Patrick. He was fucking lonely.

What he truly wanted was power. Hundreds of years ago, vampires would keep humans as their slaves; personal food banks, if you will. As vampires get older, they find themselves hungry for power. Hungry for the domination over a human being. As for why he chose Patrick, he can't say. He was unlucky; wrong place, wrong time. Patrick could have been anybody.

Dallon goes on to explain his reasoning behind the slaughter of Patrick's family, that it had to be done to ensure there were no witnesses, no suspects, and more importantly, to make sure nobody would be able to find them. Knowing his little killing spree would rise suspicion, he turned Patrick, so as to not worry about him mouthing off to anyone, and then proceeded to make his way around Illinois Medical District, glamouring anyone who was on his case, and everyone who tried to get in his way, to forget.

He'd almost been caught. Almost. Luckily for him, though, Brendon is somewhat of a man whore, and I'm not going to lie, Dallon might just be the hottest guy on the planet.

Patrick is a newborn. Dallon is his Maker.

When a vampire turns a human into one of their own, a sire bond is formed between the two beings, which means the Maker has extreme power over their newborn; the newborn becomes their property and submits to everything their Maker says. Makers are extremely manipulative over their newborns in that such way. Patrick had listened to his Maker, and was forced to lie to me. But there had been times before, when he was being held prisoner in the rundown apartment, when he did not listen.   I try to ask Patrick what Dallon would do under the circumstance, but he is reluctant to answer. 

 Dallon tells me the the sire bond is strictly protective. It works in a similar way to the bond Patrick has created with me; he is able to feel when Patrick is in danger, and know exactly where to find him by scent alone. He realized the mistake of turning him when he figured he needed a new source of food. So he left, but he never broke their bond.

In short, as if murdering his entire family and turning him wasn't enough, Dallon decided to rape and abuse him, before abandoning him with nothing to eat but a bunch of disease infested dogs. I hardly call any of that protective.