Page 16 of Vampire so Virtuous
In reflex, he tried to pull away, but her grip on his neck held him with a strength far greater than he anticipated. He couldn’t free himself. How was that possible? She was half his size!
Her teeth pierced the pulse point beside his throat, sharp and deep. Then, all was peace. The urge to object, or even to think, faded into nothingness.
Afterward, it seemed natural to follow her back to the coach. There was no reason not to climb in after her, pulling the door closed behind him. A man he vaguely recognized emerged from the chandler’s shop, calling after him, but it didn’t matter. Antoine settled into the coach, content to wait while she attended to business at the harbor. When she returned, he basked in her presence, letting the pleasure of her beauty fill the air between them as they made their way back to her house.
She asked him about his family (dead parents, a sister), where he lived (onboard the ship), and why he’d risked himself to save the urchins. Shelingered on that last one, as if it amused her. He answered the best he could, though in truth, he’d acted purely on instinct, driven by a desire to protect. She seemed to accept his explanation in the end, and for him, that was enough. He was glad she found something in him worth her attention.
It was all he could do to please her. When she suggested he spend the night in her bed, he obeyed without hesitation, yielding to her every whim. She used him as she wished, and it seemed only fitting. She was so beautiful, so elegant—what else could he do but be grateful? Why should he question the sensation of her teeth sinking once more into his neck? It was humbling that she allowed him such exquisite pleasure, even as she took his blood.
Come morning, he made his way down through the house and into the basement, per her instructions. There, as promised, was the cage, dimly illuminated by a single candle. He stepped inside, the faint creak of metal breaking the silence, and closed the door behind him. He clicked the lock into place, sealing himself in unquestioningly.
The candle burned out within an hour, plunging the room into absolute darkness. He sat against the bars on the cold stone floor with nothing to do but wait. For what, death? Her? Not rescue. No one knew he was here.
At first, he counted his breaths in a futile attempt to anchor himself. But time dissolved into a shapeless void, marked only by the steady gnaw of thirst and hunger. No food, no water. Not even a bucket to preserve his dignity.
The cage’s narrow confines left him no choice but to sit in his own filth, the stench mingling with the damp chill. Sleep came in restless, broken fits, his limbs too sore and cramped for rest. And when he was awake, there was nothing left but to wonder.
Why?
What had he done to deserve this?
When she finally came, his mind had cleared but his strength had left him. Two sets of footsteps on the stairs, sharp and deliberate, and then the light. A lantern, carried by another man. Its brightness stabbed at his eyes, blinding him after so long in the dark. He squinted against it, his head pounding, legs trembling as he forced himself upright. It took every ounce of effort to stand, to face her down, to ask the question that had been tormenting him since he regained control of his thoughts.
“Qui êtes-vous?” His voice cracked, dry and hoarse.
She gave no reply, only lifted a goblet, silver catching the lantern’s glow, and slipped it through the bars with deliberate care. There was a reverence in her motion, as though the liquid were sacred. His thirst drove him to takeit without thought, his lips pressing to the rim as he swallowed greedily.
It wasn’t water. Thick. Salty. Metallic. He gagged, coughing as he spat it out, his hand trembling as he held the goblet away. His stomach churned, strangely accepting of the nourishment, but the sickly bitterness lingered on his tongue.
“Bois, mon amour,” she whispered, both hands on the bars of his cage as she watched him. Deliberately, he upended the goblet and let the thick liquid spill to the floor, staring at her in defiance all the while.
Her visage was a thing of terror to behold. Rage twisted her features, stark and cruel. The light from the door carved jagged lines across her face, shadows clawing at the edges. He would forever remember that expression, the malevolence burning in her eyes, sharp and unforgiving.
But then her face relaxed, and became beauty again. “Comme tu veux,” she said indifferently, leaving him in his cage, closing the basement door behind her. Darkness fell, and he watched the light beneath the door recede.
When she came again, many hours later, he was too weak to stand. Once more she proffered a goblet through the bars, bending to place it in his hand. “Choisis, mon amour.” But by then, there was no choice. She had allowed him much time to reflect; it was drink or die of thirst. He forced himself to swallow the first cloying mouthful, then finished the rest of whatever foul liquid it was she had given him.
He cast the empty goblet away, and it clanged against a bar of the cage, falling through and rolling toward her feet.
“Qui êtes-vous?”
She didn’t answer, walking away and closing the door behind her, sealing him in darkness once more.
Six – Cally
Boston, Massachusetts, Present day.
“—So I said, ‘At least Iknow whatsizepencilto use.’”
There was a burst of giggling. Cally gave a weak smile, having totally zoned out during Zara’s story. She was lost in the smell of incense mingling with candle smoke, her mind on her training regime.
“He is handsome, though,” Priya commented wistfully from her spot in the circle beside Zara. Cally glanced at her, surprised she knew who Zara was referring to.
Right, they both work in the same office.
“Oh, I’ll totally fuck him,” Zara said nonchalantly, brushing back a strand of blonde hair with two fingers. “But only after he’s taken me out for an expensive meal or two.”
Cally snuck in an eyeroll while Priya frowned at the carpet. Zara, fishing for praise from Eve, didn’t seem to notice.
