Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Shadowed Violet	By : SpiritDancer1 Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > General Views: 2612 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Shadowed Violet: Chapter 1

A/N: NO
OCs in this one folks, it�s Yu-Gi-Oh characters only!

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!

The vampires were staring at him again, but then
they�d been staring at him for most of the night. Malik ignored them and pulled his knees tighter to his chest,
inadvertently shifting the gold-chased doe-skin collar circling his neck. He hated being collared, but as a vampire�s
slave Malik had little choice--at least this collar didn�t have tiny metal hooks
that tore at his skin with every movement.
His previous owner made him continuously wear one like that, scattering
permanent, deep scars over his neck-flesh.
The last vampire who owned him, a man he knew only as �Master� enjoyed
his blood best when spiced with pain, just as he�d enjoyed the blood of his
other slave, Ryou, while the boy screamed in pleasure. Unfortunately, that other slave was the
whole reason he was a vampire captive again.
~Gods, what an idiot I am, thinking Ryou loved me, cared for me. . .
.~ In the bare concrete room Master kept them in they only had each other
to soothe the mental and physical wounds Master delighted in giving them. At least until Malik caught Master unawares
and killed him, nearly dying of the injuries inflicted previous to the battle
and during it. In agony, Malik dragged
himself several miles across the border into lands still held by his own
kind. Lucky for him Master�s home was
that close to human lands or surely he would�ve been caught, especially since
the best he could manage at the time was a stumbling walk punctuated by
frequent rests. Eventually, he healed
somewhat and came back to rescue Ryou,
who had previously been taken from Master by a vampire named Bakura as
his hikari. Malik�s hands spasmed into
white-knuckled fists as the raw, painful memories of the night he stole into
Bakura�s mansion played in his mind�s eye. . . .

� Malik, I don�t want to hurt you, but I love Bakura now.� Ryou whispered, drawing the onyx colored
sheets of Bakura�s bed around his nude body, a testament to the validity of his
words. The bronze skinned teen stumbled
back into the far wall, one hand clutching his chest as though his heart pained
him. It did, but not physically. Malik�s mouth sagged open, twilight purple
eyes incredulous and tortured. ~It
can�t be. . . .he said he loved ME. . . .how can he love one of THEM?~
Thoughts whirred inside his head like panicked bats in a sealed cave. �I love
you, I always will, but I�m not in love with you. Oh Malik, I can�t tell you how sorry I am. . . .� Malik couldn�t utter a sound, so angry, so
shocked, so incredulous he simply didn�t have the ability to form coherent
speech. His mind, however, was anything
but silent. ~Sorry? SORRY?! After I
risk my safety by returning to vampire
territory you�re only SORRY?~ He
mentally shrieked. ~My battle wounds
are only partially healed; I exhausted myself coming here to take you to
freedom in the human lands and you have the GALL to tell me you love a fucking
vampire!~ A faint whisper of sound
and a stiffening of Ryou�s body was all the warning Malik got before a hard
body slammed his into the plush burgundy carpet. Knowing hands well-practiced in the arts of restraint pinned
Malik before he�d regained the breath driven from him. ~Bakura!~ The boy�s mind screamed,
indentifying him by the flood of white locks brushing his cheek. A despairing cry erupted from the blond,
shocked from him when the vampire�s fangs plunged into his tender neck. Shadowed-violet eyes threw a desperate,
pained look at the bed, Ryou sadly met
his gaze with apologies in his eyes and gave a tiny headshake�no help for Malik
there. The Egyptian cursed both white-haired males roundly, writhing like a
crazed ferret beneath the dead weight of the vampire, not moving him a
fingerwidth; the larger man barely noticed, continuing the drain the boy until
his struggles slowed and gradually ceased.
Weakened to the point of unconsciousness, Malik couldn�t even get to his
knees when the vampire rose and stalked from the room muttering about handcuffs
and killing some inept guards. The last
thing Malik saw was teary doe-brown eyes framed by silky white bangs pleading
for understanding, for acceptance, for forgiveness. Then everything went black.

~Why didn�t
I leave him to his fate? Hikari�s are
ALWAYS well treated, like cherished
pets rather than slaves. Which makes sense, the stupid vamps think just cause
the hikaris resemble them it means
they�re the lighter half of their soul.
Nooooooo, I just HAD to rescue him, sure he wanted freedom as much as I
did. Talk about stupid. . . .~ Malik berated himself
silently. He awoke caged and collared
here, Elegante Training Center, a complex where high-grade food slaves were
trained and sold. All that occurred over
2 months ago, since then he�d frustrated every single trainer here in his
refusal to roll over and become a good food human like the others. If Malik didn�t have the rarest and most
delicious blood type, they might have shipped him off to do grunt work somewhere
remote and inhospitable. Hell, without
his rare bloodtype he�d be dead, executed for slaughtering his master. AB
Negatives like himself barely made up 0.6% of the human race BEFORE the Shadow
Wars devastated the human population; now they were so rare the vamps made
killing one punishable by execution.
Which explained why he attracted a healthy crowd even with the bright
orange tag of an intractable, untrained slave hanging prominently on his
cage-door beside the black-striped red tag announcing his much-desired
bloodtype, and the all-gold tag of a foodslave. The tags made it easy for a
vampire to pick out the basic characteristics desired in his/her new slave at a
distance so the prospective Master needed only take a closer look at what s/he
really wanted. A constant stream of
wealthy vampires passed by his cage, most stopping to read the thick sheaf of
papers clipped to the door. After
perusing them most gave him an appraising stare, which generally melted into
shock when they caught a look at his appearance. In a word he looked like Hell,
figure gaunt and half-starved,
face palid under his bronze complexion, and hair rough and limp. One might think after two months at the
training center Malik would have looked better--the scary thing was is he DID
look quite a bit better. His injuries
were only partially healed when Malik went after Ryou, so were only partially healed when he came
to the Training Center. Needless to say
the trainers had been mortified at his appearance, as had the other
slaves; which in turn surprised Malik,
who expected harsh treatment at best from a vampire, out-and-out torture at
worst. Apparently not all vampires were
like his previous Master. From
overheard conversations between the experienced slaves Malik got the impression
gourmet food slaves like himself were generally well-treated�if not
pampered. A vamp could feed on a human
of any blood type, but those with heavy
purses were like any rich folk, they wanted gourmet food rather than common
fair. Not all humans, even those within
the same bloodtype, tasted the
same. Diet was a factor in blood-taste
easily regulated, as was general
physical fitness, but the minor
variations in cell-structure that made one human taste much better than another
were purely genetic. Only one blood
type guaranteed exceptional taste�his, AB negative. One of the Training Center slaves said her previous master
likened the taste of common slaves to water and hers to fine wine. The water was okay, it got the job done, but
didn�t have the punch and flavor of the wine.
~Then she said MY blood was like the finest of wine, from the best
vintage and at the peak of perfect flavor.~ Recalled Malik, leaning a
cheek on his drawn-up knees, his platinum locks sliding over bare
shoulders. The boy hated being without
a shirt, shameful of the scars covering his back, but the Trainers wanted to
show off his leanly muscled upper body.
Master considered his skin a canvas on which to create his artwork of
pain; unfortunately he was a rather prolific artist, carving in great detail
some kind of prophecy on the teen�s back using tatoo ink and heated
knife-blade. Malik felt incredibly
vulnerable in only black shorts and red-jeweled collar. Especially since ONLY
an AB negative got to wear crimson and ONLY an AB negative like him would be
displayed on a short dais in the center of the Viewing Room. His cage matched the other slaves�--heavy
glass with black iron frame to allow maximum viewing potential, the flooring covered entirely by a mat
apolstered in easily-cleaned black vinyl.
All the cages were large enough for their occupants to stand fully or
stretch out on the floor in any direction.
Certainly comfortable enough for a slave to sleep in if they wanted�as
some of the child slaves worn out from the long day were doing. Vampires in general were not a loud
people, most used to melting into the
shadows rather than attracting attention,
so even a room full of them rarely generated more than a dull buzz. Particularly an aristocratic bunch like
this, the crustiest of the upper crust
of vampire society.
�Malik?� A soft, achingly
familiar voice floated from the barred cage door. A voice he simulataneously loved and despised, one that had often
brought him back from the precipice between sanity and insanity. One he�d heard everyday of his life for four
years and gleaned much comfort from.
Now all it did was remind him of his stupidity. Malik refused to acknowledge Ryou�s gentle
querie, still angry and hurt. Not that he�d speak to anyone else
either�except to scream obsenities at the Trainers occasionally. �It�s a lost cause hikari, he won�t respond to you.� Grunted the husky voice of Bakura, just hearing it ratcheted his anger-level up
several notches. �The Trainers have
tried to make him into something marginally tractable for two months and
haven�t gotten anywhere. They�ve
finally given up�which is why he�s being sold today.�
�But yami, Malik was just trying to help me. . . .
Do you HAVE to sell him?� Ryou
protested softly. �I can�t�and
won�t�keep a slave that bent on escape,
but I get final say to who he goes to.
Humph, everyone rich enough to
purchase him will probably spoil him rotten.�
Bakura chuckled, a smirk plain in his voice. �C�mon Ryou, let�s go�they�re gonna start his private showing in
a few minutes.� The boy objected, but he went. Malik stared after him, a fleeting expression of longing sweeping
his features.
His sweet
voice, his gentle, soothing touch, the
only person for as long as he could remember who cared for him. Or so he believed. ~No one has cared
about me my entire life�not even my own father-- why the fuck should I think
anyone would now?~ Malik asked himself retorically, bitterly cruel. ~Well,
I�m guaranteed no one will care about anything other than the taste of my blood
NOW. All I�ll be to these vamps is a tasty snack, never a person.~
Malik swallowed hard at the tear-lump forming in his throat, he thought
the ability to cry lost to him. He
didn�t want to hurt anymore, didn�t
want to feel the raw wound within his soul bleed, so he ruthlessly buried his
hurt behind a fiery wall of anger. This time when he stared after the
white-haired tenshi, disgust curled his lip.
~Slut.~ Malik thought, noticing how Ryou practically fawned all
over Bakura. A quick glance around
showed much the same with the other trained food slaves; the caged slaves were
no better, most pressed against the
barred doors of their cages like eager puppies in a petshop window. The fresh-caught human slaves were easy to
spot, they�d only been given rudimentary
training so had little experience with vampires; as such most were huddled in the corners or their cage�s back
walls, nervous, frightened. Leaning his
cheek on the cool glass wall, Malik idly watched a fresh caught�a 16 or 17 year
girl, Malik�s age�cringe as a trainer unlocked her cage to admit a darkly
handsome vampire man.. The vampire
embraced the trembling girl, merely holding her for several minutes, probably
talking soothingly to her. After the
girl relaxed somewhat, he gently bite her neck, likely pumping her full of his
venom; a chemical in all vamps saliva that worked something like a
opiate/sedative/muscle relaxant combo.
A gentle introduction to slavery Malik never got to experience, and in a
way he was oddly grateful. Master�s
cruelty keep his eyes open and his mind clear to cold reality, a slave was still a slave no matter the
trappings or the master. He�d never
forget what freedom felt like, to make
his own choices, to even HAVE choices. . . . The boy was jerked from his
thoughts as his cage was jolted by a pair of grunt work slaves owned by the
Center.
Stoney-faced and silent, they pushed the wheeled cell into one of the
private auction suites reserved for only the most premier of goods. ~Oh I feel SO damned SPECIAL.~ Heavy
sarcasm practically dripped from the thought.
Malik silently watched the violet-eyed blond trainer called Mai open the
door with a resounding clang. �C�mon
handsome, let�s get you out of this glass cube.� She said genially,
smiling wide enough to show fang as she clapped a pair of silk-lined
gold handcuffs on his wrists. Sighing, the teen rose and stiffly followed the
trainer-vamp outside to another dais;
this one draped in black satin and nearly overflowing with satin-covered
pillows in varying shades of deep blue and purple. Mai sat him on the wide cushioned top, clipping a thin but
strong chain attached to an iron ring embedded in the marble wall to his
collar. The trainers here were some of
the best, Mai an old hand at dealing with stubborn humans�she made sure the
chain was long enough so the boy could lay down, but short enough he couldn�t
stand erect or touch the dais�s edge. ~Lovely,
I get to be displayed like a prized dish on a satiny platter. What�s next, are they going to heap piles of
parsley around me as a garnish?~ Malik growled inwardly, eyes flicking
around the room. Like the Main Viewing
Room, this Auction Suite consisted of polished black marble walls and flooring,
the only furniture a dozen overstuffed chairs for the buyers� comfort. Malik didn�t sit idly long before the room
filled with chattering vampires, all
eagerly lining up at the foot of his dais.
~Why are they doing that?
Didn�t they get a close enough look in the Viewing Room?~ Thought
Malik suspiciously, frowning at the eager expressions on the buyer�s
faces.
So intent on
the jostling vamps in front of him he failed to notice Bakura ghosting up
behind him. Silver-clothed arms snapped around him from behind, crushing him to
a steely chest. Hot breath smelling of
rotting copper and spearmint mouthwash washed his tender neck, his only warning
before the white-haired vamp plunged
fangs into bronze flesh. Twin points of
jagged pain arced from his neck to jaw-hinge.
The pain worked like the trigger to an explosion of writhing, desperate
movements exponentially intensified by a fist of panic that crushed Malik�s
heart and lungs, squeezing the breath
from his body in panting gasps. Malik
clawed at Bakura�s arms with his bound hands,
suddenly clumsy fingers having a difficult time finding purchase on the
raw silk of the vampire�s shirt. A
brief flower of warmth bloomed under the skin around Bakura�s embedded fangs,
signalling he pumped a generous dose of venom into the human�s bloodstream. The teen shivered as his body relaxed
involuntarily under the venom�s power, a too-familiar paralysis flooding
him. Master paralyzed Malik every time
he used the boy, loving the instinctual
panic that always lit the violet eyes.
Unwanted and unbidden memories overwhelmed the platinum blond�s mind in
violent flashes: Master leaning over
him with a knife black-edged from heating,
Master delicately licking his blood from a whip�s lash, Master grinning
as he sunk fang into delicate skin of his inner thighs. . . .Bakura�s husky
voice pulled him from the terrifying mire of his worst memories, thrusting him
back into a reality only marginally better.
�I almost forgot how good you taste�pity I can�t trust you not to
corrupt my hikari.� Purred the vampire
into his ear. Malik squirmed weakly in
the man�s hold, desperate to get away from him. To Malik, physical contact meant pain and suffering, blood,
tears, and a deep lingering shame that he wasn�t strong enough to defend
himself. Bakura chuckled at the
foolish human�s antics, gently laying
him down on the cushioned dais. �What�s
so funny?� A new voice cut over the
other vampires� muted chatter. �Huh,
didn�t think you�d show.� Commented the
white-haired vampire, rising to meet the visitor. Darkness licked at the edges of Malik�s vision, a haze of blurriness making it impossible to
see anything but a mostly black blob approaching the mostly silver blob that
was Bakura. The multi-colored blobs of
the other buyers drew back to let the black blob through, a tense silence
falling over the crowd. A vampire of
high rank to be sure to cause such an instant response. �Whyever not? You did say you had something
interesting to show me didn�t you?�
Replied the newcomer, amused.
While the two chatted a gentle drowsiness wrapped Malik�s senses, making
the world seem remote and unimportant, the sedative/opiate part of Bakura�s
venom finally kicking in. �True, well
here he is.� Malik�s eyes were closed,
but he felt the air displacement when Bakura moved and the push of cool air
smelling of spicey cologne preceeded the sense of the newcomer leaning over
him. �Interesting, quite tasty-looking
isn�t he? I see you�ve venomed him up to let his prospective buyers sample
him.� The other observed tartly. Malik
fought the warm, seductive sleepiness pulling at his mind, knowing he needed to
hear more of this conversation.
�Yeah, well, I SAID I didn�t think you�d show. I also told you I�m selling the little
bastard today come wooden stakes or broken fangs. So, you want him?�
Queried the white-haired vamp bluntly.
A very long pause spiced with Bakura�s growing irritation and impatience
ensued before the other drawled: �Yeah,
sure, I�ll take him. I could use a new
snack/bed toy combo.� With those
nonchalant but chilling words echoing in his ears Malik lost his wavering grip
on consciousness and the world faded away.

A/N: I know Malik�s blood type isn�t officially AB-,
I think it�s like O+ or something, but that wouldn�t work in the story. It�s actually true that only 0.5% of the
population has AB- bloodtype.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shadowed Violet

Shadowed Violet: Chapter 1