Page 21 of The Sanguine Selection
She nods and curtseys again before closing the door behind her. I let out a deep sigh, turning back to the window. Both cages are empty of their charges, the horses pulling them back to the stables for food and warmth.
It is time.
Glancing in the mirror, I adjust my lapel, and smooth down my warm, wool jacket. I make sure every hair on my head is combed and any semblance of emotion is devoid on my face. As a human, I cause less stress to the females than our vampires do. Even the young ones are so vastly different, scary to the girls especially after having just been captured.
You see, most of them do not wish to be here, do not want to be part of the Selection. But by law they are bound to be. This does not stop them from hiding but there’s no where they can hide in which a vampire cannot find them.
Another hopeless cause.
Two dozen females have already been rounded up by the Vampire Pride—a segment of guards loyal to the kings who maintain the peace and punish those who break the laws set down by the kings. Some came forth willingly, others were outed by frightened family members who understand the consequences of harboring a female of age. And some, like the women I’m about to go see, are victims, spoils of a nefarious Hunt, and probably reek of werewolf already.
As I weave my way through Sintara, walking over the worn marble floors, passing cool, stone corridors lit with flickering sconces housing yellow and orange flames, I begin to feel something stir in my chest. Anticipation maybe, a dire wish that she could be there, right now, just waiting to awake them. No. It’s more than that.
I pass several open doors, none of which I peek inside of. I know what I’ll see—a defiled slave, man or woman it does not matter. Forced into vulnerable positions in a usually violent display of sexual domination or feasted on for their blood, humans are but toys to the Libarryn. Toys which they frequently bore of and play with in the most sick and sadistic ways.
I pretend it does not bother me, but how could it not? Seeing them like that is a struggle I battle daily, but it is something, in my current position, I can do nothing about. Ignoring the pleasured cries, the agonized screams, and the heated moans, I descend down the main staircase into the grand foyer which is open to the first three floors of Sintara. Several members of the Pride are waiting for me below and safely escort me to an awaiting carriage. I could just walk down the mountain to Lord Vikkon’s castle, but won’t risk losing a toe to frostbite. This winter is one for the ages, the chill deep and colder than I can remember in years past.
As a Pride member opens the carriage door and I step inside, I notice I’m not traveling to Lord Vikkon’s castle alone. Sitting on the plush, red velvet seat is Lord Navar, stroking his long, black beard. A trust exists between the two of us, having both served the mighty Novikov kings with fervor though neither of us speaks as the door clicks shut behind me.
The crack of a whip renders the night and the carriage lurches down the snow-covered cobblestone. I clasp my hands on my lap and wait for Lord Navar to break the silence. He sits quite still aside from the shifting caused by the moving carriage. Even after all these years, their stillness is still quite unnerving.
“Has it been twenty years already, Jasper?” Lord Navar casts his black eyes on me, and though vampires cannot age, he looks tired and worn.
I let out a puff of breath between my lips. “Somehow it sneaks up on us time and time again.”
“And the females? Have you combed through them?”
I shake my head. “No. They’ve all been housed at Lord Vikkon’s castle, much safer for them there than at Sintara. Libarryn has been restless of late, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
He offers me an almost imperceptive nod before glancing out the carriage window. “A hundred years, Jasper. A hundred years is a very long time, even to a vampire. Should this Selection not be found fruitful, we might have to consider alternatives.”
I attempt and fail to be unsurprised by this but I know he can hear my heart race in spite of my stoic facial expression. “I’ve considered that too. Perhaps we summon all the human males as well.” A lie—the kings would never hear of it but I need an excuse for my elevated pulse.
“Perhaps,” he murmurs as the carriage stops. “Ahh. We’re here. Best not keep the cattle in the cold for too long. Frozen milk is no good to any of us.”
It takes all I have not to offer him my thoughts on his animalistic descriptions of the women. They didn’t ask to be here. How dare he, especially knowing what I am. Perhaps this is a test, to see my reaction, how far I’m willing to go. The answer—to the ends of the earth. I have no limits, nothing I won’t do or say for my kings’ return.
Nothing.
Lord Navar steps from the carriage and I follow after. As a cold wind whips around us, we’re met outside tall iron gates by half a dozen human slaves. Even in the bitter cold, they are only permitted gossamer shifts, and they shiver as they wait to escort us in. I don’t offer them a second glance, can’t if I wish to keep the look of pity and anger off my face.
Oh please, my kings, let me discover a perfect match for you.
The slaves bow deeply and a male steps forward. Cleanly shaven with a slight build, he looks no older than eighteen. A baby to the vampires. “Welcome to castle Drock. Lord Vikkon awaits just inside. Please, follow me sirs.”
He bows with a sweeping hand and turns with the elegance of a dancer before the gates swing open. Lord Navar catches my eye and raises his dark eyebrows as we follow the slaves inside.
Through a pair of stone doors and down an arched hallway we are led, a route I’ve taken five times now over the past century. Standing before the holding area is Lord Vikkon. An ancient vampire, one can feel his power before you ever set eyes on him. It’s almost suffocating at times as is his cockiness. “Welcome, friends.” He smiles but it does not meet his eyes. “I have not done my own evaluation just yet but even through the door it does not smell promising.” There’s a happy glint in his eyes at the prospect of yet another failed Selection which shouldn’t be there if his allegiance was to the kings.
Ignoring the sneer playing on his lips, I grasp the handle of the door. “Do not be so quick to judge, Lord Vikkon. The first test has not even begun.”
Not waiting to see his reaction, I open the door, step into the barren room, and quickly close it again behind me. Twelve women gaze up at me from their seats on the cold, stone floor. The fireplace isn’t even lit. My eyes graze between them, every one of them dirty, broken, or beaten. The liveliness that should be flaring in their eyes is absent. They look as hopeless as I feel.
I can smell it—their fear. Rarely is it the wish of a human woman to enter the Selection. Sure there are exceptions, a raving vampire fanatic whose only wish is to die with the lips of a vampire lord attached to them. But most have lived their lives afraid of the creatures that lurk outside the inner two rings.
And they should.
“Good evening to you all. My name is Jasper, and I will be assisting you. Most of you know why you’re here, but for those who don’t know, allow me to explain.”
