A smile stretched across my face. “Wow, that’s awesome. Thanks.” I hadn’t left the house since the day he brought me here to make me his vampire love slave. Getting out of this prison was the best news I’d heard all month. I sat in the plush leather chair in the corner of the master bedroom. My legs hung over the armrest, dangling along the side of it. I cautiously looked up at him, waiting for the joke to be unveiled.
“Abigail, get up and hug me. Our celebration starts now.”
After a month of learning how to listen and obey, I’d actually become pretty good at it. I was like a robot, doing what I was told. There were never any reciprocated feelings behind my actions, but the fear of him forced me to be diligent.
I slowly stood, still smiling, and placed my arms under his and then wrapped them around his broad chest. He rubbed my back and then caressed my neck. He lowered his lips down to my ear. “You do not seem very excited about this. I thought you would have leapt into my arms and showed me how thankful you were the minute I told you.”
Well that was just great. He didn’t like how unthankful I was acting. The academy award for best performance obviously just went to another leading lady (if I could be so lucky). Doing the best I could to hide my disgust, I changed the subject. “Have you ever missed your old life? You know, the life you had before you were a vampire?”
I was often trapped in a loop of thoughts about my old life. It hurt to think there were only two phone calls I’d had to make to prevent any missing person reports. One was to my boss when I needed to quit my job due to a “family emergency”. The other was to Justin, my coworker and probably my closest friend at the time. He tried probing for more info, hardly accepting my “family emergency” story, but in the end I left him no choice but to accept my excuse.
Bronx pulled out of my arms. Of course I let him go. He grabbed my shoulders, gently, glancing down at me, eyes soft, sincere. Did I just hit one of his nerves? “It is normal to miss the life you once had when you are a new vampire. The more feedings you have, the easier it will get. The blood quenches what you thirst for and also makes you stronger. I am here to fulfill any of your other needs. You are never alone, Abigail.”
Let me barf in my mouth now. Are you freaking kidding me? He was there for me, for my needs? What a load of crap! He was there all right, but only for his own selfish reasons! I desperately wanted my old life back, the broken heart, and the bartending job—all of it. I hated this new vampire life. I’d do anything to be human and normal again.
Turning my “Abigail Tate, non-award-winning actress” mode back on, I replied, “I guess you’re right.”
We stood in silence for a few eerie minutes.
“You will need more blood before we go tonight.” His voice was cautious, his fingers pressing deeper into my shoulders.
I looked past him, at the king-size canopy bed in the center of the room. Sheer white curtains swooped between the head and footboards with an opening in the center, peeled away on both sides. My donor was lying inside those curtains, sleeping, blissful. “She’s still sleeping.”
“I can awaken her if you require me too?” He said it like a question, voice low and steady. He cupped my face, looking deeper into me. “You are hungrier than you think. I can see it in your eyes.”
With the growing need for blood, vampire eyes form red rings around the irises. If we go without feeding too long, or if we get really mad, the crimson area will expand toward the pupils, giving them an all-over red appearance. Not very attractive. Actually, it’s scary as hell to see it. I don’t look in the mirror when I’m hungry—or when I’m pissed off. That doesn’t leave me much time to look at myself. It’s funny how Bronx always associated my warning eyes with hunger. Some people are so self-absorbed they don’t even realize how much you hate them and how upset they make you.
I placed my hands on top of his, fighting the urge to yank them off my face. “Let me wake her. I’d like to stay in here for a while after I finish, if that’s okay?”
“You may do as you please. I do have one request that would make it much easier for me to allow you the space you obviously desire.”
Not this crap again. Bronx had made several attempts over the past month to kiss me again. I always turned away just in time. “Please, not now,” I murmured. “I thought you could wait for me. I’m not ready.” I left out the part that I’d rather he pour battery acid all over my face.
“I can and I will wait. It does not hurt for me to request this of you, does it?”
“No, I guess not.” Yeah right!
“My heart desires you. My lips crave your lips. All they have is the memory of how wonderful you taste.”
Gross! Yuck! Disgusting! It took everything inside me to hold back from spitting in his face. That would give him another taste, wouldn’t it? I still couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just persuade me to kiss him again. He didn’t have any trouble using that on me before I became a vampire, but hadn’t used it on me at all since.
“I will leave you now. I will come get you when it is time to get ready for our evening out.” He released me, bringing his hands down to his sides.
“Thanks.” I stepped to the side and walked past him, heading toward the bed. Wait a second. Get ready for tonight? I didn’t have anything to wear. I’d been juggling a couple pairs of jeans and tee shirts this past month, currently wearing a lighter pair of jeans with a black V-necked tee. I was certain that wouldn’t be good enough to wear to Pulse. I quickly turned around to find Bronx still standing in the same spot, watching me. “But I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Do not worry about that. As always, I have taken care of everything you need.” He smiled slightly, a tiny dash of fang poking through his lips. Then he was gone. I was alone with my donor—for now.
When I sat down on the edge of the bed, her body rolled against me like a ball down a hill. “Hey Lily, wake up.” I gently nudged her arm back and forth. She’d been in and out of consciousness for the past several hours, but I could tell the effects of my bite were wearing off.
She inhaled deeply, slowly releasing the air back out. Her face was soft, with high cheekbones, curved eyebrows, and a head full of straight, voluminous brown hair with the hint of a widow’s peak. One of her evenly spaced brown eyes slowly opened like she was winking at me. “Hey back at ya.” Her other eye opened, then both of them closed and opened again. She smiled shyly, charmed. Her full lips looked like they’d been stung by a bee. It was actually a look most women paid big money to achieve. Hers were like that naturally.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, smiling, hoping to keep my fangs hidden.
“Like I’ve slept for days.” She giggled and then struggled to sit up. I helped scoot her back against the headboard, placing a pillow behind her. The sheer curtains around the bed cast broken shadows across her face.
Lily came over with Adam, another donor, yesterday around six in the evening. Adam had left a few hours ago, and since we were going to the club tonight, Bronx told him he wouldn’t need any more donor services at the house. Lily agreed to stick around in case I needed her before the big event tonight, which obviously I did.
“This will be the last time I need you today. I don’t want to take too much blood from you,” I said.
She stared at me eagerly, then leaned forward, her medium-length hair falling to the sides. She put her hand on my back. “Abby, I feel fine. You’re always so worried about hurting one of us. Trust me, there’s no reason to worry at all. I’m the one receiving the big benefit from the bite. I don’t see you feel ecstasy when you bite me.”
“Thanks. But you don’t see much of anything when I bite you.” I playfully nudged her arm. I enjoyed making small talk like this with every donor I fed from, especially Lily. A special friendship was forming in so little time. It’s rare, but when you find a bond like that, it’s usually one to hold onto.
Lily leaned closer to me, brushing her hair back with her fingers, exposing her bare neck.
She wore a comfy red tee shirt and dark blue jeans. Her bare feet showed off her recent pedicure with light pink toe polish. Isn’t there a rule about not mixing pink and red?
The mattress dipped as I got on my knees, making her slide into me. I cupped her face with both my hands. It was warm, alive. Her body trembled. My grip tightened, fingers pressing into her delicate skin. Her head tilted sideways. She was moving it more than I was. My, my, weren’t we eager? No complaints here. It gave me a much better vantage point for that delicious vein. My lips dropped slowly to her neck—like flying to the ground on a parachute, eager to get down but definitely enjoying the ride. My fangs popped out, gently grazing her skin. Her pulse sped up—thump, thump, thump. Tingles shot through her body like tiny electric currents. I could sense them. I could feel them. A faint whimper escaped her lips.
I got excited knowing she wanted me to bite her. My mouth opened wide, anticipating, ready. I bit down into her hard, instantly tasting her delectable blood. Thick streams of velvety goodness swished inside my mouth, down my throat. I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut, and drank to the sweet sounds that slurping blood makes and Lily’s melodic hums and sighs. Music to my ears, I tell ya. I could turn this up and listen forever.
Her voice faded; her head lay motionless in my hands. Like a kitten lapping milk, I flicked my tongue back and forth across the bite marks in her neck. Me a kitten? This would seal the wound so it healed quickly without scarring, and, of course, I wanted to make sure there was no blood left behind.
A full-length mirror hung across the room on a wall, in between the closet and master bathroom. I was content with a full belly of blood, my anger just a shadow in the distance. Suddenly I stood in front of the mirror, never having felt my feet move. I was just there. Abracadabra. Magic. My reflection looked back at me. My eyes were normal, a light bluish gray color, like the sky before it rains. They looked human, innocent, harmless. Soft, fine blond hair framed my face like thin silk curtains. A few wispy strands draped across my forehead above one of my eyes. Lily’s blood smeared the corners of my mouth, still wet and sticky. I wanted to lick it. Saliva built up in my mouth. I swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to act like a monster. Sometimes it was nice to feel human, even though I wasn’t. My stomach tightened, and waves of heat crawled up my back. A scream built up deep in my throat, but I held it there, couldn’t let it out. My tongue eased out of my mouth, across my lips. Back and forth, faster and faster, until all the blood was gone.
I hated being a vampire, I hated drinking blood (not really), and I hated being trapped inside during the day. Most of all, though, I hated Bronx.
After I finished my pity party in the mirror, I returned to the leather chair in the corner. A small table sat next to it with a bunch of books stacked messily on top, a wrought-iron floor lamp standing tall beside them. Vampires didn’t need light to see, but it sure helped when you were reading.
I closed my eyes, remembering. A week ago, two blood donors had come over. Bronx thought it would be a great time to practice using persuasion. The one assigned to me was Celeste. She was forty-something, with mousy brown hair, a tall pencil-thin body, sunken cheeks, and dark circles under her eyes—obviously from years of donating blood.
“Before we eat, let us experiment with your ability, shall we?” he asked, voice eager through a childlike grin. He looked like he was going to get that lollipop from the window at the candy store.
“Okay. What do I do?”
He walked over to his donor—a petite redhead with freckles scattered around her face, big blue eyes, and oversized breasts. He asked her to wait in the other room. She turned and left without asking why. My, my, Bronx, what big persuasion you have. Then he focused his attention on Celeste, who seemed a little impatient with our dawdling before drinking from her. Within seconds her eyes were blank, empty, his.
“Abigail, come here and stare deep into her eyes.”
I walked over and stood next to him. He placed his arm around me. Ignoring him the best I could, I turned my attention onto Celeste. “What do I do now?” I looked up into her hazily brown-colored eyes.
“It is a feeling you must release into her from yourself. Do not just look into her eyes. Feel into her eyes. Feel yourself entering into her and then make your requests to her.”
“What should I ask her?”
“Anything you want.” He kept his arm around me, giving me a tight squeeze. Encouraging me, I suppose.
What I really wanted was to have Celeste punch Bronx in the face. That was something I could feel from my inside out. I stared at her as hard as I could, pushing myself inside her eyes, digging deeper, penetrating beyond the surface. My head felt warm. My hands started shaking. I squeezed them into fists and held them at my sides. It was working. I felt it. I knew it. Everything around me fell out of focus. But her eyes were clear; her mind was open, waiting for me to speak to it. She was mine. What a scary ability to have.
I felt a sly smile curve my lips. You know those stupid facial expressions that give you away when you’re up to something that can get you into trouble? I didn’t want to smile, but it happened anyway. I envisioned Celeste punching Bronx in the face. I nudged that thought inside her mind as if getting her attention with my hands. She grinned at me, turned to Bronx, and hit him square in the nose—hard enough to make him bleed, but that was all. He let go of me, dropped his arms to his sides. There was anger in his eyes, sapphire flames building up like gasoline had just been splashed on them. I wanted to laugh, could feel it building inside my throat, but I held back. Goody for me.
But he didn’t hit me. He didn’t lose it like I’d thought he would. His body relaxed, head up, body straight and tall, fully controlling his anger. He reached over, placing his arm back around me, squeezing tight, a lot tighter than before. Maybe a teensy weensy bit of anger was showing. But he kept the rest of it perfectly hidden. Celeste stood motionless awaiting my next command.
“Very funny,” he said, lips swaying closer to my ear. “Your attempts to piss me off are all in vain. I will always love you. You will always be mine. Soon, you will not be able to fight it any longer.”
His lips trailed across my cheek. They weren’t touching me, but I could feel their closeness. His eyes burned deeper; anger wasn’t there anymore. It was different—not softer, too bold for that. Desire, lust, and something else, but it didn’t matter. He was going to try to kiss me. My stomach balled into knots. I cringed, swallowed hard, but the lumps stuck in my throat. I jerked my head to the side. He kissed my cheek, slowly, a little suction of his lips to my skin, and then he lifted his head up, looking down at me. He pretended not to notice my resistance, just like all the other times. He squeezed me into his chest. It was pointless to try to get away from him—until, of course, he released me.
A knock on the bedroom door jolted me out of that memory, and I quickly glanced at the clock. It was already nine o’clock at night. I no longer experienced time the way I had when I was human. It went by much faster now. I remembered many nights at The Beacon just watching the clock and wishing my shift was over. That kind of thing didn’t happen anymore—maybe because thinking of time didn’t matter when you had an eternity.
I got up from the chair and opened the door. Bronx was standing there holding a couple of bags. One was from Bloomingdales and the other from a store I’d never heard of, Foresters. Smiling as he handed me the bags he said, “Here are some clothes for you to try on. I will be in the living room, please come model them for me.”
I took the bags and thanked him and then shut the door. Not in a rude way, but I was eager to see what the bags contained. I skipped over to the bed and turned the bags upside down. Everything inside them fell onto the mattress.
Lily was just waking up. Perhaps the rustling bags got her attention. She raised her arms over her head to stretch. In the middle of a yawn, she asked, “What’s all of that?”
“I guess Bronx felt generous and bought me some new clothes. He wants me to model them fo
r him.”
Lily leaned forward and grabbed one of the dresses. After a brief moment of inspecting the fabric, she handed it to me. “Try this one on first. You know he’s crazy about you, and that dress will make him even crazier.”
The dress she handed me was black, cut off just above my knees, and had a halter-shaped top. It was skin-tight, showing off all of my curves. Thank God I still had my curves. When I became a vampire, everything about my looks stayed the same except my eyes and skin color. I am much paler now, and of course, I already told you about my eyes.
There was a pair of black wedge sandals that would match this dress perfectly. Lily must’ve thought the same thing since she was reaching for them.
“Thanks,” I said while grabbing them from her. I put on the wedges, which also fit perfectly, and then headed over to the bathroom. I ran a brush through my hair and then stepped out in front of the full-length mirror, staring at my new appearance. I looked pretty good. Letting Bronx see me like this was going to be challenging. I could barely keep him at bay when I wore jeans and tees. This outfit was definitely going to cause some unwanted attention.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lily said, head tipped slightly to the side. “You look amazing. He’s going to love it!”
“That’s the problem.” I walked back to the bed, my fingers sliding down a length of the sheer curtain. It felt like soft mesh. “He will love it and then he’ll try to kiss me again.”
“And you have a problem with that?”
“Yes. Yes I do. I don’t have romantic feelings for him. I just can’t bear the thought of him trying to kiss me again.”
Her eyebrows squished together, tiny creases cutting across her forehead in deep lines. “I’m not a vampire, but that sounds like a human problem to me. It’s hard to force yourself to feel a certain way. The best thing to do is stay honest with him and don’t try to rush things. He’s really nice, maybe a little scary, but he has always been nice when I’m around. Maybe in a while you’ll start to share his feelings.” She shrugged.
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