“Every one of my employees serves my customers at least one day of the week. Like with you, they’re contracted to remain in the club after their shift finishes and work right through until the end of the following evening,” he told her, and had retreated so far she could almost think straight at last. “Most of them work their overtime during the week when we are visited by anywhere from two hundred to a thousand vampiric creatures. We have specialised evenings, but the highest level of Blood Slave is savoured. Taken slowly and enjoyed, rather than rushed. Each vampire can be allocated a suitable companion based on their preferences of blood type and such, or choose one themselves, before they’re offered a private room and some alone time with their purchase.”
“How many employees do you have in total?” Wynter asked, thinking that if every single one had to do their duty on their prearranged days of the week, then there would have to be well over a thousand to accommodate their visitors. That or, God forbid, they would be expected to see to more than one customer per day.
“A minimum of two hundred are here on any given workday,” Marcus answered, “the schedule is staggered over the day to ensure they don’t lose too much blood and allow them to get some sleep. It is an arduous schedule, but one easily managed once every employee gets through their probation and understands what is needed of them.”
So, it had been the second of her two presumed arrangements. Wynter wondered what it’d be like to have to go from one vampire to another and letting them feed on her. Would she experience the same euphoria as before with each of them? Would that high make it all worth it? She remembered back to David’s comment about how she’d want to come into work more than her scheduled hours. How she’d want to stay late and arrive early. Was he addicted to the rush and that was why he felt that way? Was he more than willing to be someone’s meal because he craved the feeling it gave him? Her instincts told her yes.
And then fear gripped at her gut. Had Marcus done more to her than just lure her in? Maybe he’d already arranged clients for her, and if so, she knew she had no hope of escaping them.
Wynter gulped and ran her hand over the small cut where Marcus had already taken her blood, and remembered shamefully, she had been so damn willing.
She imagined having cuts like that all over her body and suddenly felt afraid.
“So on a Saturday and Sunday, I’ll be scheduled to feed them too? Like you did with me a few minutes ago?” she asked, and jumped in shock when Marcus turned his intense blue eyes on her and they were full of fury.
“Absolutely not, Wynter. Those Slaves are dirty and tainted. But not you. No…” he growled, “you were selected specifically because I wanted you myself. Each of my managers were chosen above all others because I was drawn to them for one reason or another. I made them the same promises I made you in my office and that I am making you now—no other of my kind will ever feast on your blood. You are mine and mine alone,” he demanded, and the commanding power in his voice made Wynter tremble.
Was this really happening? Had he actually just said those words, the same ones the vampire anti-heroes in her stories always told the object of their affections? Wynter knew the answer was yes, but still, she wasn’t completely sure she wanted his company in return. She was scared for him to want her so much. Scared to fail him or displease him. Terrified of not being good enough, or him changing his mind.
Maybe she should walk away before her probation was complete? It’d be easier to bear it if the loss was on her own terms, rather than suffer the shame of being cast aside.
Marcus watched her, and she wondered for a moment if he could read her mind because his frown only deepened and his eyes burned cooler. “You want to know if we can make this work? If you can actually live your life beneath my shadow?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly, “and, why me? Why now? Why this way?”
“I told you earlier that I could practically smell you last night before you’d walked in the door,” he told her, and Wynter nodded. “It’s true. I could sense your desperation. Smell your despair. It was intoxicating.”
“That’s not exactly a compliment,” she replied with a frown. It wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined it. He could’ve complimented her in any way, and yet he was still honest to a fault.
“It isn’t meant to be.”
Marcus went to her and came to a stop just inches away. He then reached down and stroked her long chestnut hair around his deft hands. He curled a piece around the end of his finger before lifting it to his nose and breathing her in all over again. “My kind can sense emotions in ways humans cannot. I can taste your fear or excitement in your blood. I can smell your happiness or your despair. Like any other predatory creature, we have our likes and dislikes. And I simply adored it when a certain young woman turned up at my club exuding hopelessness in droves. While hiding it well in front of everyone else in the room, there was no hiding it from me. I could sense you even from floors away and knew I had to have you. And now, you’re mine, and I intend to make sure of it that you stay.”
Four
Marcus’s words left Wynter feeling even more disheartened. It was as if all her merits and skills had been overlooked in her hiring. And all because she’d simply had the perfect amount of despair and hopelessness that’d oozed out of her in waves so powerful a vampire had picked it up in an instant. Like a shark with the drop of blood luring it from the depths. She was his prey. His so easily procured new gift to himself. Even if he kept her alive for another sixty years and she died an old lady of natural causes, she knew she’d always be his.
Already, her future suddenly seemed inevitable. Two days every week for the foreseeable future she was breakfast, lunch, and dinner to Marcus. Nothing more. She couldn’t be, or else he would’ve told her so. He would’ve called her beautiful or sexy. He would’ve kissed her again and held her close, but instead he simply stood there, watching her come to terms with his awful announcement.
He sniffed the air and grinned at her, and Wynter knew she was giving off the exact scent he’d warned her was his favourite. He adored her sadness and even though she wished she could defy him, she couldn’t stop herself from wallowing in her misery. And it wasn’t like he was going to stop her any time soon. After all, it was apparently what he liked about her so much, and right now, all those methods she used to hide her emotions away seemed to have gone completely out the window.
“So, what’s the plan? How will our weekends work?” she eventually asked in a bid to pierce the heavy silence.
“Like I told you before, you’re to remain here for the full two days. I will feed from you as I please and you’re free to do some work or enjoy the time however you wish,” he told her with his air of aristocracy Wynter figured had been perfected over many years, maybe even hundreds. “You don’t have to remain by my side, but close by. Ready to serve me.”
“And what if I refuse?” she asked, suddenly feeling brave.
Marcus beamed and let out a throaty laugh. He then fixed those icy blue eyes on her again and, without a word, had Wynter up on her feet and walking towards him with her hand outstretched and eager to feed him.
“As if you could try,” he answered as he took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth. Wynter thought he was going to bite her again, but instead he simply held it to his nose, soaking up her scent. He was right, of course, and Wynter felt a pang of rage spear in her gut. It was quickly replaced with adoration, but she knew now how that was fake. Merely masking her true feelings.
“Am I under some kind of a spell?” she enquired, thinking how no matter what, she’d still wanted him to taste her. Her fears had diminished the moment he’d lured her over, as had the shock at finding out vampires weren’t only real, but also there in her city, and in her life. All she could think about was Marcus, and she felt her body gravitate towards him again. She’d soon pressed herself against him and was savouring his scent too while enveloping herself in it. In him.
“It’s more of a c
urse,” he whispered. He then ducked his head and offered Wynter a small kiss. “You gave your life to me the minute you signed the contract and sealed it with your blood. It was no accident, trust me, but then you were rewarded with a curse of my own creation. You’re linked to me now. You will grow older as normal, but your life will only go on as long as mine does, plus you will serve me without question. Every natural survival instinct in you can be overridden by my need to feed, and should I decide to drain every drop of blood from your body, you won’t even try to stop me.”
Wynter wanted to scream and push Marcus away, but instead she grew hotter and was overcome with the desire to rip off his clothes and beg him to make love to her.
“I can sense what you need,” she whimpered, realising how it wasn’t her who needed to fuck, but her new master. She was emulating him. Mirroring his needs so that he might take from her what he so desired. “Do you sleep with your other managers, Marcus? Do you let them make love to you while you feed?”
Marcus pushed Wynter away as if she’d just offended him, and the moment the contact was broken she felt ashamed for having been so brazen. It wasn’t really like she’d been all that hot for him, but when their bodies had been pressed against one another’s it’d felt so right she hadn’t been able to fight it. Like she’d wanted to offer everything on a plate to him, just as she had when it’d come to giving him her wrist to drink from. “I’m sorry,” she tried, flushing hot with shame.
God, none of this was like her. Wynter had always separated work from all else, but here it was different. Marcus had cast his spell on her and while she wanted to maintain her distance, she simply couldn’t.
“I absolutely do not fornicate with the others, Wynter. And I shan’t with you either,” he corrected her. “You’re here to serve my one need and that alone. The rest is off the table. I don’t care who you sleep with, but make sure you do not propose such a preposterous notion to me again,” Marcus then chastised.
Well maybe if you weren’t so gagging for it I wouldn’t have felt your desire, she thought, scowling over at him. Wynter wanted to say the words. She wanted to shame him like he had her, but she knew it wouldn’t be worth the backlash. He would surely punish her for acting out and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it just yet.
“Hmmm,” Marcus teased, grinning again as he inhaled he air between them deeply. “You’re even more delicious when you’re angry.”
His remark had the desired effect and Wynter was instantly riled. He wanted angry? She’d show him angry!
“Do you kiss the others like you kissed me then?” she demanded, unable to help it. Marcus shook his head no. “Then don’t pretend you aren’t interested in me sexually, and don’t try to shame me for acting on the urges you’ve called up in me.” She was pointing her finger at him and quickly dropped it. Where had this come from? She’d never dared tell one of her bosses off before and didn’t know what to think anymore. She was disgusted both with her actions and the situation she’d found herself in. Too good to be true, she’d told herself before coming here. This job was turning out to be far worse than that!
“I do whatever I want, Wynter. If that means kissing you when I feel like it, then so be it. Just because I won’t fuck you doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to taste every part of you…” he countered. She flushed but forced it away, clinging to her rage. That was real, not the alternative. Not the desires still welling within her to creep closer. To touch him. To fuck him…
“But you’ll only kiss me while you feed?”
“Of course. Why else?” he answered, closing the gap between them again.
Yeah, why else indeed, she thought, feeling dejected again. Wynter was about to pull back and attempt to walk away, when Marcus seemed to decide against letting her go.
He moved the hair away from her neck and dipped his head is if to kiss her there, but Wynter was a fast learner and knew better than that. She could tell what was coming and sucked in a breath to steady herself, and it wasn’t long before she felt that same sensation of razor-sharp shards cutting through her skin. As if a dozen tiny knives had just swiped her, the sharp sting was a shock, but was quickly replaced by euphoria.
Marcus drank deeply from the wound he’d made. She couldn’t count the gulps this time as he took so many, and it was merely seconds before Wynter felt blissful again and as though she were drifting on clouds that made her entire body sing. She was also climbing a wave she knew all too well. One that usually ended in a crescendo of pleasure when she was with the right partner, and she began to pant, eager for her climax.
How could a bite feel so good and promise such a pleasurable culmination? But there it was, and it was building fast. She wanted the release so badly her entire being ached for it, but Marcus refused her yet again. He lifted his head right before she could explode with the strange release she was craving, leaving her so unsatisfied it hurt.
“No,” he told her, evidently entirely aware of how she had been feeling. “Never.”
Wynter wanted to demand to know why. She felt like shouting and begging for him to at least let her have her ecstasy, but he had told her no and her body obeyed even if her mind resisted.
He let her go and Wynter slumped against the desk, feeling woozy. It made sense, given the amount of blood he had to have just drained from her, and it wasn’t long before she felt herself losing all strength in her legs.
She was fading fast, and so welcomed it when Marcus lifted her into his arms and carried her from the office and back out into the hallway. She was a puddle in his arms, but it didn’t matter. He had her held tightly against him. So close she could smell his scent. Like lavender and lemon. No, like roses and wildflowers. All her favourite smells wrapped into one.
Wynter watched as he ignored the few workers they passed on the way and she turned her head, not wanting them to see her so frail and in need of his help. She felt ashamed and embarrassed, and not just because of the sorry state she currently found herself in.
She was actually pretty ashamed of everything that’d gone on since she’d arrived at the club that afternoon in general, and couldn’t even begin to focus on processing it all.
The job wasn’t worth this battle. She had to find a way to back out, and tried to tell him, but her voice came out as nothing more than garbled groans.
Marcus ignored her pleas as he took her back up to the top floor in the elevator to his huge office. There, he carried her a short while more before setting her down on a soft sofa that’d been laid out with cushions aplenty and a fur throw. “Rest now, Wynter. Sleep,” he cooed, as if he cared.
She didn’t have the energy to answer back though, and so just nodded and curled into a ball, snuggling into the warmth of the huge throw as the exhaustion of the day overwhelmed her and sleep carried her away.
The sun was low when Wynter awoke and it took her a few moments before she remembered where she was, and why she was sleeping in the daytime. She took a good look around in an attempt to get her bearings and groaned when the events of the day all came rushing back.
She sat up and looked around, realising how the entire fourth floor had to be extensions of Marcus’s office. Then remembered how he’d returned them there after his last bite.
The living area had been sectioned off and this part was set up like an apartment, with a kitchenette to one side and a bathroom beside it. She was in a kind of living area that connected them both and then at the opposite side of the room sat Marcus at his desk. She could just about make him out because he was hidden behind a frosted glass wall that had offered her a little privacy while she’d slept, and Wynter was glad of that if not much else.
She also wondered if this might be where she’d be expected to stay during the weekends when Marcus needed her close by to feed from, and got her confirmation when she sat up and found an elegantly handwritten note on the table beside the sofa.
I trust you are well rested, Wynter. Please make yourself at home here. This is yours on a weekend so
help yourself to something to eat from the kitchen and use the facilities as desired, and then come to me. We still have much to do before six-pm arrives.
MC
Wynter did as he’d instructed and started by devouring a pre-packed sandwich she’d found in the fridge and two bottles of water, before washing up and brushing her teeth with the new toothbrush she’d figured had been left especially for her use. When she emerged, she heard Marcus talking to someone in his office area and took a few tentative steps over to where the glass wall separated them.
“I can still give you more, master. I’m perfectly well enough,” she could hear someone saying.
“I know, Patrick. But that doesn’t mean a thing when I can taste the death creeping in around you. There isn’t long for you now, plus I have Wynter to serve my needs,” Marcus replied coolly and she heard the other man, presumably Patrick, give out a groan.
She decided against eavesdropping any further and so stepped through the open end of the glass wall and nodded in greeting to both Marcus and his guest. She realised right away what the problem was. The man was old. Probably in his mid-seventies, and yet it was evident he was one of Marcus’s specially chosen few he fed from. One of his managers, or so he’d called them.
Marcus watched her with apparent intrigue and Wynter felt her cheeks flush red beneath his powerful gaze. She wanted desperately to go to him, but knew it was his spell making her desire him so, and instead went to the other man and put out her hand for him to shake. “Speak of the devil. Patrick, I’d like to meet my new Marketing Manager, Wynter Armstrong.”
“Good afternoon,” she said, feeling relieved when Patrick shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The Beginning Page 4
