Page 134 of Vampire so Virtuous
Belle’s eyes flashed with a red tinge, her anger so strong it broke through her glamour. “You refuse my gift?”
He took a breath, releasing it as he fought the urge for a rash response, carefully considering his words. “I accept the spirit of your gift, my lady,but must decline the manner of it.”
“Ah, such meaningless platitudes. How diplomatic, my pet.” She opened the door and unceremoniously pushed the children through, closing it behind them as they protested, their high-pitched demands for food echoing faintly. “Come, Antoine. Come and serve me while I tell you about my night.”
And this was where he would pay for his refusal.
At least the children would live… for another day.
*
“There you are, my pet. I have brought you a gift.”
Belle entered, hauling a young woman by the scruff of her neck. Scrawny, her shift in tatters, her hair a tangled mess as though she’d been dragged through Paris. Barely eighteen or nineteen, pretty and innocent, the way Belle liked them.
Antoine steeled himself. It had been a week since the two children, and part of his punishment had been to go without food. His control was fraying, and the girl gasped when she saw his eyes. His glamour wasn’t holding. He let it drop, and she screamed, struggling futilely in Belle’s grip.
“Oh hush,” Belle said with irritation, shaking her. The woman jerked like a marionette on a string, quieted into fearful submission, unable to take her eyes off Antoine.
He couldn’t look away either, and took an involuntary step forward.
“Do you like her?” Belle asked.
“Yes, my lady.” He swallowed his saliva.
“Do you accept my gift?”
“Yes, my lady.” Whatever Belle had planned, the poor woman meant food. Antoine’s hunger was too great to resist her games.
“Feed, my pet,” she said, pushing the girl toward him.
It wasn’t the first time she’d fed him this way—letting him grow weak with hunger, then presenting him with a scared, helpless victim. At least the woman would soon forget her fear, and as his fangs pierced her neck, he clouded her mind. His ability was in its infancy, a pale shade of what Belle could do, yet the girl went limp in his arms, moaning in pleasure. Her fingers splayed across his thigh, then rose toward his groin. He caught her wrist.
The hunger was so intense that pulling away was an effort. A rivulet of crimson ran down her neck, staining the collar of her shift.
“Good, my pet,” Belle said. “Now, channel your power into your touch. Use it to mark her flesh, as though branding her.”
“Will it hurt her?” The question slipped out before he could think.
Belle laughed. “You are too much. She is achattel.”
It had been a foolish thing to ask.
Antoine concentrated, feeling his power swell within him, vibrant and buoyed by the fresh blood of the young woman. He pressed his thumb against her bare arm, pushing his essence into her.
“Doucement,” Belle cautioned. “You do not want to damage her mind.”
He stopped immediately.
“Exactement.” Belle said. “Now, can you feel her?”
It was as if a tether had formed between them, an invisible line stretching from her soul to his.
“What does this mean?” Antoine asked in wonder.
“It means she is yours, my pet. You will always be able to find her. She will always be able to feed you. Keep her in your room, though. I do not wish to see her.”
No more hunting terrified prey that cringed or screamed at his presence. No more hunger, no more losing control, no more accidental deaths because he had left it too long between feeds.
