“Friday’s is humans battling it out. Winner stays on, loser feeds,” Marcus then explained to her, and Wynter cringed. She peered up at Warren and could see he was struggling with what he had just done. He couldn’t even look at the man he had won against. “Your boy hates to win. But losing makes him feel worse. Like he’s less of a man to have a bloodsucker taking his strength from him while he can do nothing to fight back.”
“You quote him like you know,” she retorted.
“I know everything,” Marcus answered, as if it should’ve been obvious. “Such as how you have feelings for him, and he you,” he added, and while Wynter felt butterflies spring to life in her belly, she still shook her head.
“He refused me. He walked away even after he’d told me he was going to help. I can’t trust him and I don’t care for him.”
“Liar.”
Marcus was right. Seeing Warren up there, half naked and dripping with sweat and blood from what had to have been numerous fights, he was masculine, dangerous, and hot as hell. Wynter still wanted him, even if he had let her down. “Warren refused because he cares too much about you to accept your body in such a disrespectful way. He didn’t want to have me feeding from you while he made love to you. He wanted it to be special. Real…”
“Now who’s lying?” Wynter countered, but Marcus shook his head and smiled.
He was telling the truth. Warren did want her, but in the right way. She could see it now and felt awful for having thought of him so badly whilst with Marcella. Their liaison had truly meant nothing, while time with Warren would’ve meant everything, and evidently to them both.
Raw emotion flooded Wynter’s spent body and she knew it was more than lust or passion, but something meaningful. Something that would last long beyond that day or any other. Perhaps it was even a spark of real love? It was the first time she had felt anything for anyone since her ex had done his damage, and Wynter despaired at the thought of leaving Warren behind should she do as she had threatened and walk away from Slave without ever looking back.
She peered back up at him and watched him ready himself for another fight. His mind was gone, his gaze empty, and Wynter knew he’d gone onto autopilot in a bid to do whatever he needed to in order to survive his overtime shift. He would sacrifice the others to save himself being fed on, and Wynter couldn’t blame him.
“He might win every fight today and get through it without having to feed, but tomorrow it’s Warren versus any vampire willing to pay for a fight with him. He always loses and they always feed. Stay with me and I’ll make sure they’re gentle. Leave and I’ll give them permission to take more than just their fill. I’ll let them drink him dry and leave him for dead. And all because you chose your freedom over his life. ”
“No, you can’t do that!” Wynter croaked, and Marcus yanked her away, twisting her to face him. He then dropped his voice and pulled her closer to him, but this time she felt none of that old spark between them. All she felt was hate. Disgust. Loathing.
Marcus looked positively delighted and shook his head, breathing her in.
“I can end his life anytime I want, and I will. He’s disposable. They all are,” he corrected her.
“Then why not kill me too and be done with this pretence? Surely I’m an embarrassment now that I’ve successfully broken your curse?”
“Because I wasn’t talking about you,” Marcus answered, and she caught him eyeing her darkly. He was somehow pleased with himself. Far from the embarrassed loser she’d expected after having been bested. “You must realise by now that you’re different?”
“I got the hint, yeah,” she replied snidely. Wynter tried to walk away, but Marcus grabbed her hand and yanked her back into his hold. He breathed her in again and smiled. His eyes even flashed brightly for half a second, just like they had previously.
“Why hadn’t I thought of it before? To have a real captive, not someone under my spell, but someone who fights back? Someone whose blood ripples with hate and anguish, yet who cannot ever leave me?”
Wynter began to tremble. She shook her head and pulled back, her sorrow eating her up inside. Marcus let her go long enough for her to turn and look back at Warren, who was back to beating up his next victim in the ring. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Could she live with walking away in the knowledge that Marcus would surely take out his loss on him? The answer was no. No matter how cold her past experiences with men had made her, she simply couldn’t live another day if Warren was dead because of her.
Wynter turned back to Marcus and glowered at him.
“Don’t tell him,” she spat, “don’t tell any of them.”
“An interesting proposition,” he replied, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his smile never faltering. “What are your terms?”
“I’ll continue to work for you and will stay here the three days we’d previously agreed, but won’t be shackled or treated like a prisoner. Only you and I will know the truth about the curse.”
“And my Priestess,” he replied and Wynter frowned. She had no idea who that was, but figured it had to be the person in charge of his vile hex and the reign he had created using it. She shrugged and nodded. “What do I get in return for allowing you such freedom?”
“What?” Wynter demanded. “You’re getting to feed from me and treat me like a slave, even though I’m no longer under your spell. What more do I have to give?”
“Your unending loyalty,” Marcus answered, “love me or hate me, I will have your compliance and your devotion. If you try and run, I will kill your precious Warren. And then I’ll move onto other people you care for. Starting with your dear friend Cossette, and then your mother…”
Eighteen
How hadn’t he seen it before? Hadn’t realised just how sweet the victory would be to have a true slave at his disposal? No curse that made her mask that pain with love, but pure hatred, and all of it directed at him. Marcus was enraptured with her. Wynter despised him with every breath she took and didn’t even attempt to hide it, and he savoured that flavour more than if she were the most splendid morsel who ever had lived. In fact, she probably now was.
Their deal struck, he led her away and back upstairs to his office. Past the guards who were watching them both in intrigue, wondering to themselves what it could possibly be that they had seen before when he’d charged past with her slung over him like a ragdoll.
Marcus sent a wave of power their way. A renewed sense of devotion washed over each of them and the team of guards soon forgot what they’d seen. Like Wynter had said, only the pair of them would know the truth. She would keep the secret because to her, the alternative was worse. Even worth truly enslaving herself for.
Marcus knew he’d drank too much before, but in that elevator he had turned wild with lust and greed for Wynter and her delectable blood. He’d thought he could handle anything, and then in a second all of that had changed. He was lucky she was even still standing after everything he’d taken. But it was her own damn fault. She’d climaxed for him against his orders, and his predatory urges had well and truly kicked in. The ancient vampire hadn’t been able to control himself and knew he wouldn’t have stopped without force. Luckily for them both, Wynter had gone into survival mode and because of her creeping closer to death, she’d been able to take charge of her fate at last. She had fought him off and lifted the curse, and her body had then pumped with enough adrenaline to keep her on her feet in the aftermath. But now, her strength was waning.
Her body, lacking in its essential blood cells, was doing its usual thing of crashing after a feed. Wynter was struggling to keep up with him as he marched her back upstairs, and so Marcus yanked her up into his arms again and held her to him. She struggled against his hold, only serving to make him smile wider and so he held her closer, but then she succumbed to the rest she so desperately needed and was asleep against him before they’d even reached his office.
There, he let her sleep. They had time and he could drink some
more before their working night began, and so he got to work on a new plan. A brand new arrangement that would ensure she stuck to her word and wouldn’t try to defy him again.
After all, that was the second time now that she’d gotten her own way. Anyone else and they’d be good and dead, but with her, Marcus couldn’t stay angry. He had suffered a minor defeat, but had gained something even better. All the hexed, willing slaves in the world couldn’t match up to what he now had at his command.
***
Wynter woke with a start, having felt what seemed like a hand pressing down against her chest. Judging by the force of it, she felt like she’d just been punched, but when she shot awake to fend off whoever was apparently attacking her, she found herself alone and in total darkness. Wynter felt immersed by the blackness though, as if it wasn’t natural, and felt panic beginning to rise in her chest. Was she dead? Had her body crashed so hard she’d slipped away into the abyss of the afterlife?
Tears pricked at her eyes and she rubbed the aching spot on her chest. She felt real. Still alive, at least.
“Marcus?” she whimpered, and was met with nothing but icy silence.
“He’s gone, for now,” a deep, ominous voice eventually whispered. The sound was otherworldly and resonated as if it were both in her ears and across the room at the same time, and Wynter wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to shield her body from whoever it had come from.
“Are…” she replied in a shaky whisper, “are you his witch?”
“His Priestess?” the voice answered, sending another chill down Wynter’s spine. “Yes, of course.”
She clutched at the still aching spot between her breasts and frowned.
“Did you hurt me?”
“A simple tracking spell, my love,” came the voice again, and Wynter shuddered but then quickly became annoyed. How dare she? After everything Wynter had agreed to do and carry on doing for Marcus! “You don’t approve?” the Priestess mused, laughing to herself.
“Of course I don’t approve,” Wynter snapped, “I made him a promise and intend to follow through with it.”
“And of course, you’re a woman of your word, Wynter…”
“What’s that supposed to—”
“You lie to everyone, including yourself. You pretend that you don’t care. That you’re happier being closed-off and alone, but it’s all a lie.”
Wynter bristled and tried to look around again, she was quickly growing less and less fond of this Priestess and was about ready to tell her where she could shove her assumptions.
“Everyone does that,” she retorted, “so I suggest you realise what the fuck century you’re living in and deal with the fact that every human in it is a walking disaster.”
Hands were suddenly wrapped around her throat and Wynter struggled, clasping in vain at them to try and release their tight grip. She pleaded and begged, and then tried to fight back, but it was no use. The Priestess had a mighty grasp and it appeared she wasn’t against using it, even on Marcus’s favourite Blood Slave.
“We’ve seen you,” she whispered in Wynter’s ear, and her voice sounded like that of twenty different people all rolled into one. As if it weren’t one woman talking, but many. “Seen your future, Wynter. It isn’t pretty.”
As stars glittered in front of her eyes, Wynter was aware of her mind slipping away, and yet a vision came to her. Clearly, and as if she were seeing it for real.
Blood was everywhere. On the walls. On her. In her mouth. Wynter could taste it and instead of recoiling, she let out a satisfied moan and licked her fingertips clean. Then, at the sound of the lift arriving, she turned to find Marcus as he strolled in casually from the open doorway.
He laughed and shook his head playfully.
“I forgot just how hungry new vampires are.”
“I need more,” Wynter groaned, and she lunged for him, biting playfully at the hard skin on his neck.
“You’ll not get any satisfaction drinking from me, my darling,” he replied, peeling her away.
“Then bring me a slave,” she replied.
“I have,” Marcus told her, summoning a guest she somehow hadn’t sensed was there from the waiting elevator. It was Warren who stepped out, his face contorted with rage and yet Wynter could smell the fear rolling off him in delicious waves.
“So it’s true? You really are one of them? A bloodsucker,” he chastised, and Wynter lunged for him. Without a care, she drank and drank. Gulped every last drop down and then lifted her head just in time to hear the last beat of Warren’s heart before he finally slipped away.
“Yes, and you’re nothing but the dinner,” Wynter teased his lifeless corpse before peeling herself away and jumping up into Marcus’s awaiting arms. She kissed him tenderly and then peered into his eyes, the hues of them turning brighter and more vibrant as he looked back at her. Their souls were one now. Their fates united. Merged. Forever.
Wynter came back around with a garbled cry. Her strange dream. Snippets of that nightmare had been the exact same as this vision, and now they had been pieced together. It was real. How hadn’t she realised before? Why hadn’t she seen how it was not a dream at all, but a foretelling? Something that she ought to have considered a warning, rather than just a strange hallucination.
She tried to speak, but there was nothing, and as a second vision invaded her senses, Wynter realised how her future couldn’t necessarily be so clearly laid out for her. Perhaps there was a choice. An alternative.
The full moon shone overhead and Wynter was in the arms of a dark figure. His features were indiscernible, but he was holding her close, like he loved her. She then turned and peered up into his face with a smile. She loved him too.
“I choose you,” she then told him, “only you. Let’s run away.”
“He’ll never let us go,” the man answered her, “he might kill us for trying, but I’m willing to do it if it means we can be together.”
“Me too…”
Wynter came back around again with a frown, and then watched as whatever darkness was covering them lifted to reveal a completely shrouded woman. The Priestess. She no longer had her hands around her throat. She was simply watching her from beneath her cape, her face and body entirely hidden from view.
“You will either be his saviour or his undoing, Wynter Armstrong. Whichever path you take leads you to heartache, pain and loss in one way or another. Neither will be easy.”
“I’ll never let that happen,” Wynter groaned, still feeling tired and uneasy. “If there are variances then it means my future isn’t set in stone. I can change it,” she tried, but the Priestess said nothing. She just walked away and then disappeared out of sight before Wynter could so much as clamber out of the makeshift bed atop the large sofa to confront her further.
***
When six-pm finally rolled around and Marcus released her for the night, Wynter was even more of a mess than she had been earlier. She’d earned her freedom and then lost it again within the hour, but that wasn’t what was playing on her mind the most. It was that awful vision of her as a vampire. Why had that Priestess shown her it? To stop it from coming true? Or perhaps to show her that it was inevitable and she would remain Marcus’s possession even if the day came that he gave her immortality?
Either way, Wynter felt like she was done for. She contemplated ending it all, but was too much of a coward. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone, yet didn’t know where to turn. All she could do was lock herself in her office and cry. The tears came and they didn’t stop for the longest time. Not even when she could hear someone pounding on the door from the other side. And not when her phone rang over and over again on the desk.
Eventually, she stood and went to look out of the window at the clubbers below. She envied each and every one of them and wished for a different future.
Seven days before this she too had been down there, innocently going about her business and trying to enjoy herself regardless of her limited funds. She’d been year
ning for something to change. An opportunity to present itself. Never had she thought that opportunity might come in the form of a new vampire boss who would dominate every moment of her days and nights since.
“Your wish came true you silly bitch,” she chastised her sour reflection in the glass. “So now what? Choose Marcus and become that monster you saw? Or choose anything else and bring his punishment down on you and everyone you love?”
“Or you can choose option number three…” a voice told her from behind, and Wynter spun around to find a woman there who had somehow managed to get inside her locked office. She went to her, but the woman disappeared, like some kind of a foggy apparition.
“No, don’t go!” Wynter cried, “tell me, please.”
The woman reappeared, but this time she was over the other side of the room where Wynter had initially been stood.
“Follow him, your tormentor, and he will lead you to me. But do not let his soul merge with yours. When his eyes glow it means he’s calling to you, and your body will be powerless to refuse him, as will your soul. You will become his immortal bride if you do not escape, and there’s only one way to do that. You must sever your connection with him completely.”
“How?”
“I will show you, but not yet. Bide your time. All you have to do is follow him, for now…”
The end of book one in the Blood Slave series…
About the Author
Eden Wildblood is a new author, setting out on a journey to tell her dark stories to the world. She devours horror movies and books, and listens to heavy metal, and yet always wonders why people are still surprised when she reveals her dark side.
The Beginning Page 17
