I've actually never had the opportunity to read a well written vampire story. At least, not one that I can remember off the top of my head, and that includes Twilight. Thus, I thought 'what the heck' and decided to have a gander at writing my own. Since this is a Halloween special I'll try to have it finished by Halloween, which means this story is out of the usual once a week updates. ^.^ You're gonna get more.

So enjoy. Laugh, mock, applaud, hate, or get addicted to at your pleasure.

Blood Chain

By LoweFantasy

Prologue

Seto Kaiba watched the neon flicker through the Benz's heavily tinted windows. After three blinks, he heaved a heavy sigh and peeled off his suit coat and tie. Best not to look too obviously high class. Once he'd rolled up his sleeves to make his button up shirt look more casual, he pulled a black fedora from underneath the seat and put it on his head once he'd mussed up his hair a bit.

Not a master of disguise, but it would serve his purposes. It wasn't like he was going to be here long anyways.

"Try not to look so obvious when you come back," he told his driver and body guard, Roland.

"Same time as usual?" asked Roland.

Seto hesitated. "I'll call."

The man glanced back and frowned. "Bad day, sir?"

"Would I be here otherwise?" Seto snapped open the door and kicked it out. With a nod and a last minute check to make sure his phone was in his pocket, he stepped into the shadows next to the low-key night club. As he walked away from the Benz he used most days for travel, Roland reversed into the dark side-street, so no one would be the wiser when they saw Seto stepping out into the lights.

The bouncer recognized him off the bat. "Long day, B-man?"

"Always." Seto flashed the money and accepted the plastic wristband.

"You're gonna like tonight's special," said the bouncer. "They just finished building the second floor, so they've brought in some dancers to celebrate."

Seto said nothing. He didn't care either way. If he had wanted pole dancers and strip teasers, he would have gone somewhere else.

No, there was reason he came to such a low-brow joint, and it wasn't for the cheapness or the drugs.

As he stepped through and into the haze of fog and flashing lights, he breathed in deep of the perfume of moving bodies and hair spray. The floor writhed with dancing patrons, though the smoke made it difficult to decipher any faces.

Feeling the expected calm wash over him, Seto found his favorite spot in a lounge chair next to the bar that had old springs, giving it the ability to nigh swallow whoever sat in it. He ordered a sweet bourbon and sipped at it as he stared out into the fog, lights, and movement.

No one glanced his way. Not one.

And after a week of playing CEO to one of the most successful and powerful companies in the world, having the opportunity to not catch attention was priceless. The loud music pounded out the whirling numbers and figures of his busy brain, and the darkness and fog gave him the impression of being alone somewhere deep under water.

He sighed in relief and took another sip of his drink. It burned away the knots in his muscles. He took one more sip and closed his eyes to better feel his body relaxing. Since this was the only time he drank, a little alcohol went a long ways, just as he meant it to be.

Sometime later, he opened his eyes to measure how much bourbon he had left and happened to see two figures stumble out of the fog. Or rather, the girl did on her impossibly high heels, tittering and giggling as her wrist was pulled along by a man. Seto's eyes narrowed as his training read their lines like a business report; after all, he wasn't the youngest billionaire in history for nothing.

The girl was drunk. The young man was not. But what set Seto's hair on end was the slightly hunched, predatory way he held his shoulders. There was a fluidity to his steps that spoke of physical strength, or at least a higher than normal awareness of where he held his weight.

The couple passed into the shadows on the other side of the lounge, far from the view of the bartender, to a side door.

Seto put down his bourbon and stood. He wondered for but a second if he should let someone know what he was doing before stuffing his hands in his pockets and making his way through the tables and chairs. The door they had vanished behind had a scratched and worn 'Employees Only' taped to the front. He hesitated before twisting the doorknob. Readying his weight, he threw it open.

To find a set of poorly lit stairs.

He inwardly groaned. This place just screamed rape. Why didn't they have anyone guarding this? And in a hovel of unchecked human wanton no less.

Careful to roll his feet from heel to toe, he quietly edged down the steps. As his shoes hit the bottom, a small, feminine yip sent him whirling round the corner.

His chest went hard and cold.

In the harsh, white light of the lone, naked lightbulb, the man, dressed all in black and with startling wild hair, held the young girl to the corner where the wall met the floor with one knee, and had his face buried in her neck. She had arched her head back, but not in ecstasy, but in a silent, open mouthed scream.

Seto was in motion before he had even processed what he saw. Years of martial arts training had the crazy haired man loose from the girl and face first in the cement floor with his arms locked behind his back.

"Go," said Seto to the girl. "I'll hold him."

The girl just stared at him with wide, glassy eyes. It was then Seto noticed that she had blood trailing down her throat and staining the collar of her deep cut, white shirt.

Ugh. So this was one of those kinky sickos. "Go!"

She flinched, and with surprising dexterity for someone who was obviously drunk, she leapt to her mile high shoes and clomped out of sight.

As Seto reached to his back pocket for his cell phone, the boy beneath him jerked. He tightened his hold.

And in a whirl of naked lightbulb and cinderblock walls, Seto found himself on his back, winded and bemused.

The young man in black was atop him, the backlight of the lightbulb bringing out the red tips of his hair.

And his eyes were glowing red, pupils dilated and shivering.

Seto kicked his legs against the ground, meaning to unset the smaller man, but for some reason it was like the guy had turned to lead. Sharp, cat like-nails dug into his wrists and a shout of surprised pain escaped him.

"Get off me, freak!" He clenched his fists, tugging them. But the nails just dug deeper.

The man said nothing. But the burning red eyes drew closer.

It wasn't until the moment the young CEO felt the needles on his throat that it occurred to him that this attacker was anything more than what he had first thought him to be. It didn't even occur to Seto that the owner of the fangs wasn't even human until he woke up several hours later with his head spinning and his neck burning like fire.