by K Loraine
“Your blood. It’s sunlight.” He opened the door and placed me on the bed. “It smells…so fucking good. I want to taste you right now, feel the power you can give me.”
I reached up to my throat and touched the tender wound his father left on me. My fingers came away stained red and I winced at the slight pain. “Does it always hurt?”
“No.”
He bit his thumb and leaned down, hand outstretched. “What are you doing?” I jerked away, but he held me in place then brushed his bleeding thumb over the wound on my neck. Warmth spread across my throat, followed by an intense tingling sensation. On reflex, I reached up and touched my throat again. This time I found smooth skin and no pain. He’d healed me.
“You can’t walk around this estate with an open wound. You won’t survive. Now that they all know what you smell like, you have to make sure you cover your scent.” He stepped back and glared at me. “I won’t always be here to clean up after you.”
“What do you want me for if you’re not going to kill me?” Propping myself up on the pillows, I allowed my gaze to roam his features. Tragically beautiful was a phrase that came to mind. Dangerous and bad for me in every way was another.
“Did your mother really not tell you anything?” he asked, sitting on the side of the bed. I should have backed away, shunned his closeness to me, but I couldn’t. Deep in my bones, I knew he was my only chance at escaping from here alive. I’d seen the glimpse of humanity in him. I had to hold on to that.
“She was crazy. Certifiably insane, but she wouldn’t get help. She told me tales of horror about monsters and terrified me.”
“They weren’t tales.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I see that now.” Then I shook my head and closed my eyes, fighting the anxiety bubbling in my chest. “We moved every six months. Town to town, state to state. I’ve lived in almost every state in this country. She homeschooled me, we changed our names every time we moved.”
“Is Olivia not your real name?”
It surprised me that he seemed to care. “No. I don’t even remember my birth name. But this time, I got to choose.”
“What made you choose this?”
A hot blush crept up my cheeks. “There’s a TV show... I like the heroine and her name is Olivia.” I had to look away, not wanting him to laugh at me. “It’s stupid, I know. But she’s a badass, and part of me thought I’d be able to…I don’t know, channel some of that if my name was Olivia too.”
“I didn’t start out as Cashel,” he said, catching me off guard. “My given name at birth was…never mind, it’s not important.” I saw it the moment he closed off, like he realized his walls were slipping and he had to raise his guard. Eyes hard as stone, he glared at me. “Why are we talking about names? That’s not important. What you need to know is there are two ways this can go. Either you give us your blood willingly, live your life comfortably here as our willing donor, or we take it by force and detain you in a much less pleasant environment.”
My gut clenched. They were going to slowly steal my blood. That seemed to me like an even bigger violation than holding me captive. But there was so much more they could do to me if they wanted and the knowledge of that made my stomach churn. “Is it just my blood you want?”
His eyebrow rose and a smirk turned up the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I want much more than that, but you’re off limits, I’m afraid. No one is allowed to touch the King’s supply.” His gaze raked my body. “Does that disappoint you, little bird? I heard the way your pulse picked up when you asked your question.”
“You couldn’t please me if you tried, Cash.”
He bristled at the nickname or the insult, maybe both. “I could have you begging for me to be inside you without ever kissing you.”
Ah, so it was a bruised ego, not the nickname. “Prove it.”
His gaze locked on mine and with feline grace, he crawled atop me, never touching my body with his. “Your nipples are hard. Is it cold?”
It wasn’t. His hips began rolling as he held himself above me, a smooth seductive motion dragging my gaze down his body. Lips a hair’s breadth away from mine, he whispered, “You’re temptation delivered to me on a gilded platter, little bird. I want it all.”
“Too bad you’ll never have me.”
In barely enough time for me to register what had happened, he vanished from above me and was suddenly standing at the door. “You’re right. I won’t have you. You are my father’s plaything. His blood supply. You’re going to give us more power than we ever thought possible.”
I stared at him, unable to fathom why he hated me but seemed to want me all at the same time. “How long will you keep me here, Cashel?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Forever, Olivia. You will never leave Blackthorne Manor.”
Cashel left me apprehensive, angry, and aroused. Did he really mean it? I would never leave. Never be free from the Blackthornes. The moment the door closed behind him, I got up and ran for the lock, desperate to keep them out. It was stupid of me. I’d already seen their strength displayed more than once, and it was highly unlikely Cashel and the rest of his family wouldn’t have keys to every room in the damn house.
Panic took hold, burning in my chest, making me curl into a ball on the bed as my breaths grew progressively more frantic and my heart raced. Would they come for me if they heard my heart? I couldn’t control my reaction as the anxiety I’d always fought so hard to keep under wraps finally broke through.
I don’t know how long I laid there with my arms wrapped around my knees, but it must’ve been a good long while because the sky outside my window had changed from nearly black to a deep purple. All I could think about was my mom, her desperate need to get us safe all the time, her stories of monsters who wanted to kill her, and lastly, the thing that I’d always thought was part of her mental illness…the curse she said her blood held. Now I knew the truth.
I uncurled from the fetal position and made my way to the window. Fighting off the returning panic, I unlocked the window and tried frantically to get the stupid thing to open. Nothing. Not a budge from the frame. “Goddammit!” I shouted, banging on the glass. I picked up the heavy candlestick on the table next to the window and slammed it in the center of the pane. It practically bounced off the glass, not a single crack showing. “What the fuck is this made of?” I said to the empty space before tossing the candlestick across the room and shouting, “God!” It hit the wall with a satisfying thud and took a chunk out of the plaster. Such a small thing, but at least I left my mark.
I paced the room, searching for something that would get me out of this place before someone came for me. I was a caged bird, kept in splendor, but it was abundantly clear from everything I witnessed, and all Cashel had said, my time here was permanent. I needed to fight my way out. But how could I kill a bunch of vampires?
Just as I’d suspected, a key rattled in the lock of my door and the heavy wood swung open. My heart raced at the thought of seeing Cashel again. My only link to the outside world. But I was kidding myself if I thought he was on my side. He brought me here and he wanted all of me.
Brenna gave me a soft expression. Not necessarily a smile, but not a scowl either. “Destroying the house won’t get you anywhere with his majesty.”
My gaze drifted to the damaged wall. “Do I really care? He’s going to kill me.”
She shook her head. “No. If he was going to do that, you would already be dead and I’d be cleaning your blood off the throne room floor.”
A shiver ran down my spine as her words hung in the room. “Cashel said your name is Brenna.”
Her only answer was a slight nod before she bustled into the room with a cart laden with towels, on the bottom a variety of vials and a carafe on the top.
“What is that?” I asked, unease curling in my gut.
“Humans are predisposed to waking during the day, no matter how tired they are. This will help you sleep.” She touched the carafe and then waved her
hand over the vials. “And, of course, we need to mask your scent. Cashel won’t return until he’s sure you’re safe from his hunger.”
“He was here earlier. It didn’t seem to be that hard for him.” Flashes of the man holding himself over me, his lips close enough for me to kiss, took control of my memory for a moment, but I beat them back.
“He is stronger than most.”
“You act like I should fawn all over him.”
“You should.”
She didn’t say anything else, just made her way back to the bathroom and started the bath. When she returned, she held a robe out for me. “Please don’t make me disrobe you again.”
“I just had a bath. You were there.”
“You did, and then our King bled you.”
A chill ran over my spine at the mention of the King. Pain blossomed in my throat from where he bit me, and I ran my fingers over the healed wound. “Cashel healed me.”
“Yes. And now the only thing masking your blood is his. But that won’t last forever. I can already smell you.”
Terror curled in my stomach. Was she…hungry?
“Fine.” I slipped the thin straps of the dress over my shoulders and let the fabric pool at my feet while she slid the soft robe over my form. “Thank you,” I whispered, not knowing why. A courtesy? A reflex? She was part of this. But she seemed like one of the only people who wanted me to feel normal.
“We don’t have much time. Sunrise is looming on the edge of the night.”
That perked me up. “Sunrise? So vampires can’t be in the sun?”
Sly dark eyes found mine. “There are many truths to the lore. But be aware, this house is a veritable fortress during the day. If you try to escape, you will fail.”
The air in the bathroom is thick with the scent of the rose oil she put in the bath. “Give me a minute?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I am not to leave you alone until your scent is masked and you are safe. There are…some who have much less control than Cashel.”
I blew out a frustrated breath and pulled my hair into a bun high on my head. Then I dropped the robe before stepping into the hot water. “Fine.” Roses overwhelmed me as I settled into the water up to my chin. I did as she’d instructed the first time we went through this and wet my face, my ears, the nape of my neck. Then I massaged my scalp with damp fingers.
“Good,” she muttered, picking up the robe again and holding it out to me. “Now, come. Your tea will be ready.”
“I don’t like tea.”
“Think of it as a sleeping draught. I heard your heart hammering away up here, so did every vampire in this house. We may sleep during the daylight hours, but I can guarantee you, none of us will forget you are here. You’d do well to remember your scent is stronger when you’re afraid.”
At some point, she must’ve set out a silk pajama set because deep purple lace-trimmed shorts and camisole sat draped across the bed. “Why do you care if I’m comfortable?”
An almost hurt expression crossed her face. “You’re not simply food for us, Olivia. You are going to save us.” Then she sealed her lips tight, regret flashing in her eyes. “Tea,” she said, her gaze leaving mine. “Then I will leave you to your rest.” I watched as she poured the brown liquid into a delicate teacup, then added drops of various oils until it smelled heavenly in the room. Then, she held out the cup and saucer. “Drink it all while I watch.”
“What’s in it?” I asked.
“Oils, herbs, all blended with chamomile. Now, drink it down. I must go.”
I was certain she wouldn’t hurt me after what she said. I was important to them for some reason that had to do with my blood. In order to give them what they needed, I had to be alive, at least for a while. I drank the tea, its flavor complex and strange as each of the ingredients seemed to coat my tongue. When the cup was completely empty, she took it and nodded. “Have a restful sleep, Olivia. I will return after sunset.”
My limbs already felt relaxed as the tea worked its magic. Brenna left her cart behind, but a simple assessment told me nothing on it would be of use to get me out of here. Eyelids heavy, I wandered the room, refusing to give in to sleep.
A bookshelf sat tucked in the corner with a dove gray upholstered chair as its companion. A cozy nook. Tempting and familiar. This was something I could hold on to from my life. Some sense of normalcy. I padded across the floor and scanned the books one by one, taking in the titles as though I were in a library. Classic literature, along with their foreign language editions mixed with modern fiction in all different genres. Bram Stoker’s Dracula caught my eye and I had to fight a bubble of hysterical laughter at the thought of vampires reading that book. Finally I grabbed a copy of The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck and settled in the chair.
Two chapters in, and my neck was stiff, aching from keeping my head bent over the pages, and I kept nodding off. I pulled the curtains shut to block out the lightening sky and took the book with me to bed. It was silly, but holding on to something familiar gave me a sense of safety.
But my bed smelled like Cashel, and my dreams were filled with him. Biting, sucking, taking me in every way possible. I knew it was wrong, but in my dreams, I didn’t care. It felt so right.
I woke on the cusp of intense pleasure, my hand between my legs bringing me to orgasm. But my heart lurched at the sight of the very vampire I’d been dreaming of. He stood by the side of my bed with a dangerous desire in his eyes.
“What are you doing, little bird?”
6
Olivia
I jolted fully awake and pulled my hand away from my core with embarrassment burning my cheeks. “Get out!” I shouted. “God, have you never heard of privacy?”
He chuckled and shoved one hand through his hair. “There is no such thing as privacy here. Not for you.” My gaze raked his form and I saw it, that tense posture which said he was affected by my aroused state. “Besides, how could I resist when I heard you call my name?”
I called his name? Shit. “Sorry, Cash, you must’ve heard me wrong.”
“Perhaps called wasn’t the right word. It was a breathy moan, really.”
Getting out of bed, I positioned myself on the other side of the room. “I can’t control what my brain does when I’m asleep. It’s been a traumatic few days.”
His dark eyes locked on mine and I felt like I was caught in a tractor beam. The tug began in my belly and I found myself taking an involuntary step toward him. But, as quickly as it started, the connection was broken.
“Did you…did you just mind control me?” I asked. Shock and anger burning in me.
“I did. Let that be a reminder of who is in charge here. I could make you mine with one word.”
I let out a harsh breath. “But I wouldn’t really be yours. It would be rape. You’re too proud for that. I can see it in you.”
That mouth of his pressed tight and he averted his gaze. I’d hit a hot button for him, and I’d be lying if I didn’t mark a point for me on my invisible scorecard. “You will join us for dinner.” His words were terse and filled with frustration.
“Will I?”
“Yes. You will.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
“I will toss you over my shoulder and carry you downstairs in nothing but the scraps of silk you’re wearing.”
My traitorous nipples tightened at the thought of him putting his hands on me. Damn it. Why was my body betraying my mind?
“Fine. Give me a few minutes.”
“You have five.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. “Go.”
“Don’t I need to” —I waved my hands uselessly— “you know, mask my scent?”
In the blink of an eye, he was in front of me, his nose running along the line of my neck. “No. I can barely detect your blood. Your arousal, however…that’s an entirely different kind of temptation.”
“You’re a pig.”
He stepped back and pulled himself together while I watched. “I m
ight be that, but I’m not the one fantasizing about the person holding me captive, am I?”
One point for Cashel. Damn him. He was right and I knew it. “Stockholm syndrome. My brain is protecting itself.”
“Or your body knows I’d be the best you ever had.”
My eyes widened at his confidence, and I had to push back the curiosity knocking on my mind’s door. “In your dreams, Cash.”
A smirk turned up the corner of his mouth. “It would seem in yours.”
Letting out a frustrated huff, I stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door, only to come right back out again. “I have no clothes,” I told him, hands on my hips, anger rising to the surface.
“Did you check there?” He pointed to the tall armoire near the window. “That is the purpose of this particular piece of furniture.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. “No. No, I didn’t.” Even as I shook my head, I walked toward the armoire, knowing there would likely be an entire wardrobe hidden behind those doors. When I opened the heavy doors, I sighed at the sight of new clothes, some folded neatly, some hung from wooden hangers. “When did someone have time to go shopping?”
He shrugged. “Brenna is very good at her job.” His heavy sigh made my shoulders stiffen. It was an annoyed sigh, not one of sadness or frustration.
“Don’t let me keep you,” I said, carefully perusing the clothes.
“I gave you five minutes. It has been four.”
“I can just meet you downstairs.”
He went silent at the suggestion and I turned around to face him, eyebrows raised in question. “No. I will be with you while you’re wandering this house until I’m sure my family can resist you.”
A chill broke out over my skin at the serious tone of his words. “Then you’ll have to wait for me.”
Setting his jaw, he strode forward and pushed me gently out of the way. Then he tossed a pair of pants, a sweater, and a matching bra and panty set at me. “There, you have clothes. Go dress, or do I have to do that for you as well?”
