He’s come for me.
Several seconds go by and then the door to my room closes. I release the breath I was holding, thankful that I wasn’t going to be someone’s meal.
“Excuse me, miss. I came to bring you breakfast.”
My body jolts at the foreign voice calling through the bathroom door. I’m shaking in fear when the bathroom door creeps open.
“Go away,” I cry, unable to say anything more.
“Please, miss. I won’t hurt you,” the deceptively nice woman promises.
Don’t trust anyone here.
“Come out and eat before it turns cold.”
I know better than to fall prey to the false politeness in her voice. To relax and do as I’m told would be a mistake . . . yet I can’t help it. My stomach is ready to revolt from a lack of food. It’s either die from being too trusting or die from starvation. I’m not sure which would be worse at this point.
Cracking the door slightly, I see a girl not much younger than me carrying a tray full of silver platters. She appears pale and fragile, much like the people clad in black back at the auction. Another victim.
She seems harmless enough, so I slowly exit the bathroom. When our eyes meet, she makes a small curtsy, which is odd, as I’m the prisoner. I search her face for signs of anything sinister, like red eyes or sharp canines.
When I don’t find anything out of place, I lunge forward. “Help me. Help me,” I beg, pulling at the skirt of her dress. The silver platters clink as the tray shifts.
“Miss, please. You’ll get us both in trouble.”
“Help me escape,” I plead once more, desperation taking over.
Her lips pull down and a crease forms between her eyes.
“There’s no way out,” she whispers. “You belong to the Crown now.”
My hands release their hold on the girl. That feeling of hopelessness creeps back in. She won’t help me.
“Stacey. Where’s Stacey?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
I see it in the way her eyes quirk. She doesn’t know Stacey.
“I just bring breakfast.”
“Please. Help me get out of here.” I try begging once more.
She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me.
“The Crown is a generous man if you abide by his rules. Do as you’re told, and he’ll bring you no harm.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Is that a rehearsed statement?” I say harshly, losing all sense. If I’m going to die, better to go out fighting than lying down and taking it. There is no room for fear here. I need to channel all the rage inside of me, and God help this girl, because she’s about to be on the other end of that rage. “Where is he?” I demand, grinding my teeth in anger.
“I’m only to bring you your food, miss.” She places the tray on a small round table next to the bed, not even fazed by my menacing glare.
As she turns to leave, I grab her sleeve and pull her toward me, barring my teeth.
“Who is Julian Bellamy?” I grit out, desperate for answers and knowing she’s my best chance at getting them. I need to keep her here for as long as possible. She has to have information on my captor.
“Who?” She quirks a brow at me, grinning as if I’m pathetic.
I remain silent, wanting—no, needing—answers. If I lose my cool, it’s unlikely that this girl will help me, and I need help.
“The Crown. Who. Is. He?”
She steps out of my grip, smoothing out the sleeves of her threadbare apron. “He’s our king.” Her lip curls into a grin.
Our?
It was a benign world days ago, but now it’s laced with so many dark possibilities.
Making a mental checklist of all the options, I almost miss the way the girl’s eyes darken. My inner voice screams, but I can’t get my mouth to cooperate. She’s one of them and I didn’t even realize it.
Her eyes aren’t red, but she’s on his side. She’s no victim. This girl is here of her own free will. She reveres him, if her wide grin and sudden hostility toward me are any indication.
“You’re a fool if you try to leave,” she says, turning away and leaving me once more.
My body sags with regret. I did nothing. It was a missed opportunity to escape. The door had been wide open, and the girl was smaller than me. Maybe she’s a vampire with hidden powers, but she would’ve been my best chance to try.
Better to go out by her then to be sucked dry by the king of them all.
My hands grip my hair by the roots and pull. A scream rips through my chest as I grab the small, round table by the bed, throwing it to the ground. The metal platters clatter against the floor, scattering food everywhere. Chest heaving and breath ragged, I stand in the middle of the room trying to pull myself together while tears stream down my face.
Hope bleeds from me with every sob. At some point, I collapse in a heap on the floor, falling fast asleep, not caring what or who comes to end it all.
When I awaken, I’m lying on the bed, covered in soft linens once more. How I got up here I haven’t a clue. Last I remember, I was curled in a ball on the floor. Not that it matters. I’m thankful to at least feel rested.
The sun has set and my room is clouded in shadows. My stomach is turning from a lack of food and water. It’s my fault, as I spilled the contents of the trays brought to me earlier, but in truth, I don’t know if eating anything they give me is a good idea. Would they poison me? It’s unlikely if I’m to be their food, but still, how am I to know? I ate what Sarcos gave me at the auction, and I don’t have a clue what happened to me or for how long I was out.
If I’m to escape, I need to keep my wits about me, but I also need strength. Right now, I don’t think I could fight off the small girl from earlier if I needed to. I’m weak and dehydrated. I decide to try to round up some of the spilled food from earlier, but as I stand from the bed, I see that the mess from earlier is cleaned up. The table is righted, and two silver dishes sit atop it. I don’t waste time removing the covers and sighing at the replacement food waiting for me.
Someone has been in here, and as much as I want to dissect that truth more, I’m not going to waste the chance to finally eat. Poisoned or not, I’m starving. The trays are filled with chicken, pasta, bread, and a variety of fruits. I want to gorge myself, but I learned my lesson in the dank cell of the auction house. I eat only what I think my stomach can handle, but I drink every last ounce of the water in the full pitcher.
When I’m done, all I want to do is sleep, but curiosity wins out. I need to pull apart this room to see if I can find anything to help me understand my surroundings. Anything that could help me escape.
I begin by looking under the bed. Nothing. Then I pull out every drawer in the armoire, only to find it stocked with comfy socks and panties in every color. The last drawer is empty. As I pull out a black lacy thong, I check the tag and then I grab another, checking that size too. Every single piece is my size.
How can that be?
Why would this room be stocked full of essentials that aren’t mine in my size? Did he arrange this before I got here? And if he did, how the hell did he know my size? Tingles crawl up my spine at the thought of him or any of them looking at my underwear for sizing purposes. Did they strip me down while I was out?
“Ugh,” I yell out, frustrated that yet another day has gone by and the questions without answers just keep mounting. I stalk toward the one door in the room I haven’t yet opened. It’s a large walk-in closet and it’s stocked to the brim with everything any girl could need. From beautiful blouses to sundresses, pantsuits to sweatshirts; no expense was spared based on the designer tags.
Every freaking piece sized perfectly.
“That son of a bitch,” I screech, for so many reasons. All the ways he could know what size I am. The fact that I’m going nowhere—nobody would spend this type of money if they had any intention of letting me go. Not to mention the outrage of being kidnapped and the indignity
of being sold like livestock.
Better here and alive than out there and dead.
Sometimes I hate my inner voice. That stupid, optimistic bitch, who loves to act like the voice of reason, when all I want to do is lash out. She isn’t wrong. With a closet this full, I can only hope that Julian, the king of monsters, might not plan to drain me of my life. At least not quickly.
I’ve managed to find nothing to help me with my efforts to escape, and there are still no hints as to where the hell I am. I could be in Asia at this point. And where the hell is Julian? Am I to be shut in this freaking room forever? Frustration and anger collide as I begin tearing clothes off their hangers and throwing them about the closet. I grab a grey jumpsuit and pull at the seams, needing to rip it to shreds. With every stitch that comes loose, the tension in my shoulders wanes momentarily. Destruction feels good. It feels necessary to channel my fury.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” The alien accent snakes its way up my spine, leaving chills in its wake. Not Julian . . . a woman. “That was a perfectly gorgeous, one-of-a-kind Chanel.”
I spin around, glaring at the intruder. Her hands fly up daintily in surrender as she chuckles at my blatant hostility.
“Who are you?”
The woman’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow rises to a point.
“Formalities aren’t important right now, little girl. We need to get you cleaned up right away. You’re expected in the throne room immediately.” She picks at her long, blood-red nails contentedly, belying her words. “And I’ll need to get someone in here to clean up this mess you’ve made.” She tsks.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I challenge, pushing back my shoulders in an effort to look menacing.
She barks a laugh, and that’s when I catch sight of the pointed canines, indicating she is one of them too.
“Who are you?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes.
“I’m Ka-tee-na.” The woman’s head bounces in time to her name being sounded out phonetically.
My brow furrows, signaling that her name means nothing to me.
“The Crown’s right-hand woman,” she explains, running her hand slowly down the side of her neck, pausing at her clavicle. Bizarre.
In fact, everything about this woman is wacky. Channeling Cruella de Vil, she’s sporting the black-and-white skunk coiffure, shaved on one side and chin length on the other. She’s dressed in black from head to toe, with the distinct exception of red patent leather pumps that match her nails. The heels add to her already tall frame. Upon closer inspection, her face looks familiar.
“Have we met?”
She throws her head back, mouth open.
“You have me confused with Ratilda.”
My brow rises.
“From the auction,” she offers. “She’s my sister. We look alike-ish.” She crinkles her nose.
“Ahh . . . yep, that’s it.”
“We might look similar, but appearance is where it starts and ends. She’s a royal bitch.”
I snort. “I’m to believe you’re any better?”
“Obviously,” she deadpans. “I don’t want anything to do with that dreadful auction.”
“For real?”
I eye her skeptically, not wanting to be naïve and fall victim to some game. She’s clearly a vamp, based on her elongated teeth and pale-as-death skin. I can’t trust her.
“It’s barbaric and I am no savage.” Her hand comes to her chest.
“Noted.”
I won’t believe anything she says. To survive, I need to remember that nobody here is a friend. Until the day she helps me escape, she’s an enemy.
“Anyway, no time to waste. You have somewhere to be.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” My words come out weak and pathetic, exhaustion and rising fear taking over.
My mind is invaded by all the possibilities that could await me in the throne room. Torture, shackles, blood drainage—each is as terrifying as the last.
“You will if you value your life.”
I cower at her words, realizing that the things my mind has conjured could quite possibly be on the horizon. Like I said, enemy. Everyone in this world of vampires and auctions is my enemy.
Katina frowns, pursing her lips as she considers me.
“There, there. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only meant to warn.”
She sounds sincere, and her eyes are wide and concerned, which only manages to befuddle me more. At the auction, I knew everyone was my foe. Here, I could very easily be duped into thinking that Katina could be a friend. That’s dangerous and only a trick of my mind. It’s typical Marina, wanting to see the best in people, even when there is none to be seen.
“Your distress is palpable; you must learn to control it. Vampires can smell your emotions. Here you might be safe, but out there”—she motions toward the windows—“that will get you killed.”
Out there. Does that even mean something to me anymore? As a prisoner, how long will I be cooped up here before I’m disposed of and another unsuspecting person is stolen to replace me?
Katina turns on her heels, going toward the walk-in closet. I hear her sifting around until she finds something that pleases her. I don’t even need to look to know that her idea of what works and mine are going to be entirely different.
“You have to try to cooperate, Marina.”
She knows my name. What else does she know about me? My blood type? My grades from school? Was I being followed before I was abducted? Or was it just a case of wrong place, wrong time? Were these the monsters from my past?
“There are always eyes, watching, waiting for a reason to swoop in and end you. The Crown will protect you if you behave. If you don’t, not even he can save you.”
Save me? Does he think buying me from the auction was saving me? No. Saving me would’ve meant stopping the auction. Or at least allowing me to go home afterward. He didn’t save me, and I fear nobody can.
“What’s that?” I eye the blood-red dress she holds in her hands. It looks like something out of the eighteenth century. “I’m not wearing that,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance.
She sighs animatedly. “You will, or you’ll go naked. Your choice,” she shrugs.
“There is an entire closet full of normal clothes,” I say, pointing toward the door. “Where the hell did you find that, anyway? I looked through there and I don’t remember seeing ancient clothes.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s beautiful and you’ll look . . . well . . . better.” She purses her lips and I scowl. “You’re having dinner with the Crown and his brother. Royalty, my dear. You need to look the part.”
“Will they be dressed like this?” I say, motioning toward the offending garment.
“Doesn’t matter.” She waves her free hand. “I was asked to dress you, and dress you I shall. Now, take that off and let’s get started.”
Twenty minutes later, battered and bruised by the horrific corset dress Katina shoved me in, I’m already regretting that I was sold off to someone intent on torture before simply killing me. I’m a ball of fury and I’m ready to unleash it at this dinner with evil royalty.
I won’t leave this world without a fight.
Chapter Nine
“Where are you taking me?” I try desperately to sound brave, when internally I’m quaking in fear. All the bravado from earlier is gone as I inch closer to Julian and whatever nefarious plans he has for me tonight.
“I already told you—the throne room.”
I know nothing about these creatures, yet they seem to know everything about humans. They have an unfair advantage. It’s hard to tell if any of the fictional books and movies I’ve watched and read have depicted vampires at all accurately. I’m going in blind and completely helpless. I’ve never so much as taken a self-defense class, which means I’m thoroughly screwed and at the mercy of the monsters.
“What’s going to happen to me there?”
She stops and turns toward me.
“That all depends on you. The Crown wishes to have you dine with him.” Her hands fly up as if to say duh. “If you behave, I’m sure no harm will come to you . . . today. However, if you step a foot out of line, you’ll take your last breath.” Her red claws rake tenderly down my cheek, almost affectionately. “It’s a shame you’re human. We could have so much fun together.” She licks her lips seductively.
My nose scrunches at her peculiarity. I can’t tell if she wants to kill me or kiss me at this particular moment. Neither is favorable. We continue to march down a hallway lined with red carpeting and gold walls. The place screams wealth, in a gaudy, masculine way. The walls are filled with aged portraits of ghastly men. The sneers plastered across their faces and evil eyes that appear to follow me as I continue past make them even creepier. Always watching.
As we descend further down the long expansive hall, male voices fill the air, growing louder by the second.
“Shall we share, for old times’ sake, brother?” a familiar jovial voice questions.
“I’m in no mood for sharing, Lawrence.”
The husky voice of my captor curls around my insides, torturing me with unwanted tingles. I stand tall, pushing all the foreign feelings away. I won’t let this man corrupt me. He can’t own my thoughts or sensations if I don’t allow him to. And I won’t. He may take my blood, but he’ll never take anything more from me.
“Here we are. Remember what I said. Behave.”
Everything about this vampire is over the top. From her style to her words, she’s drama personified.
“Do I have a choice?” I snap.
She drills me with a look of admonishment.
“Make no mistake, little girl . . . you will pay with your life if you don’t fall in line. I’m a peach compared to the company you’re about to keep. Be quiet and keep your head down unless you’re told otherwise. I’m not saying this to be mean, but like I said, to warn you. The people you’ll encounter in this world won’t take kindly to your lip.”
I don’t say another word. If there is one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that silence is, in fact, golden. Besides, these creatures don’t deserve my attention, so I intend to play my part, but otherwise give nothing. Survive.
Blood That Binds: A Vampire Romance (Blood Legends Duet) Page 9
