Page 25 of The Sanguine Selection
The woman standing next to me trembles and I reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze so she knows she’s not alone. Because nothing in this world is worse than being alone. The door swings open and in walks Jasper, the man who first greeted us, his ancient face and white hair less oppressive than the others. He bows deep to the lords and ladies before turning to us, hands clasped before him.
“Now that you’ve been bathed and dressed, I hope you all are feeling much better. I trust the meal was prepared to your liking.” He reclasps his hands behind his back and begins walking the length of the room. “I’m sure you’re all wondering how this sampling is to be completed. And while I cannot in good faith assure you it’s painless, I can confirm that this is the only way for it to be done without contamination.” Lord Vikkon snaps his fingers loudly and the door opens again, this time allowing entrance to a man and woman even more scantily clad than we are, causing more than one of us to gasp. The woman’s hair is a soft brown and curly, bobbing against her shoulders. Her barely there gown does nothing to hide her…assets yet she has no shame in her face, not a hint of embarrassment as her breasts bounce with each step she takes, nipples pressing against the fabric. The man, handsome and clean shaven with long dark hair bound at the base of his neck, wears only a pair of loose pants in the same sheer material displaying a thick length between his legs that sways as he moves, and I find I want to see it up close.
Bands of metal are bound to their forearms, and another encases their necks, all of which have empty rings dangling off of them, ready to house a charm perhaps, or maybe something more sinister.
Both are carrying a serving tray filled with silver chalices. The man offers them to each lord and lady who take one without even acknowledging him with so much as a glance or a grunt, just disregarded as a lowly servant, aslave. Once his tray is empty, he bows deeply and leaves. The woman waits with patience to be called on.
Jasper pauses and beckons one of the twins forward. She holds her head high and tosses her braid over her shoulder, stopping a few feet in front of him. Jasper extends a hand to a handsome lord with dark skin and bronze eyes that almost seem to burn with excitement. The lord places an ornate item in his hands and I realize as a blade flicks open, that it’s a knife, and by the looks of it, quite sharp.
The twins’ sass falters as Jasper firmly grips her forearm and exposes the tender flesh on the inside. “Hold still or this will only be worse,” he orders as he places the blade along her skin…
And cuts.
“Ahh!” she cries out, attempting to tug her arm away but Jasper’s grip holds—the old man must be stronger than he looks.
“Hold still, I said,” he barks sharply. Red blood seeps to the surface of the cut and, cradling her arm gently, Jasper leads her to the ladies and lords. To my horror they extend their chalices, catching her blood. Down the row of lords and ladies she’s lead and Jasper squeezes blood from the girl to fill each one’s cup. The skinny girl faints where she stands and another gags as one by one, the beautiful people bring the cups to their lips, sniff and drink.
Drinking blood.
Vampires…
I have a hard time believing this is real. Surely I’m really at home, tucked in bed, stuck inside one of my nightmares and unable to wake. This can’t be real, can’t be happening. They speak to each other in a language I’ve never heard and by the surprise in the other women’s faces, neither have they.
The twin is escorted from the room but her sister isn’t having it. “Where are you taking her?” she demands.
“To a safe place, I can assure you,” Jasper soothes, his voice cool and even.
Her face reddens, fury in her eyes. “I demand—”
“You demand nothing,” a lady with venomous green eyes hisses. “You are here for us, for the kings, not for her. And if you have forgotten as much, we’d be happy to remind you.” Out of the shadows, two menacing looking men emerge, larger and more terrifying than the rest. A length of chain dangles from the pale hand of one and he cocks his head as if daring her to defy him.
The remaining twin shrinks back into line, mumbling an apology, head hanging in defeat. A scream echoes from outside the room but is quickly cut off and I gulp at the insinuation. The slave woman offers clean goblets to the ladies and lords, who load her tray with their soiled cups. Jasper beckons a second girl forward. And another. And another. Each slice of skin met with a groan or a hiss, each taste of blood seeming to be unremarkable. The girls are led from the chamber that is until the skinny girl’s turn.
A soft murmur picks up as her blood is tasted and instead of leaving the room, she’s escorted to the other side of the hearth, her arm wrapped in white cloth to stop the bleeding. Servants enter and exit, bringing clean cups and taking away those tarnished with blood. After a dozen more girls are sampled, only one more has joined the skinny girl—the girl with bright, orange hair. I’m filled with relief when the pregnant woman is escorted out, glad she’s not made it to the next round and will be returned back home.
At least…I hope that’s what’s to be done with those whose blood isn’t to standard.
My feet are frozen as the rest of the girls are called forward, another two are set aside until it’s finally my turn—the last of the thirty-five. The lords and ladies look bored by this point as they take clear, crystal glasses this time. I can’t hide my shaking when I extend my arm to Jasper. The knife this time comes from Lord Vikkon and as Jasper slices through my skin accompanied by my own pained hiss, Jasper bristles. His eyes flick to mine before he conquers his emotion and hovers my bloody arm over the empty glasses.
In some messed up way, there is a beauty to it, to the dripping liquid, how it erupts from my arm, the way it pools in the bottom of the glasses. As the ladies and lords bring my blood to their noses and inhale, I notice a few reactions similar to Jasper’s and wonder how awful it must smell to them for such stoic and schooled individuals to be unable to control their reactions of clear disgust.
Heat blazes on my cheeks and I avert my gaze back to my arm, unwilling to watch them gag on the taste of my blood knowing how the smell affected them so. I hear someone groan, another belts out a satisfied exhale after drinking me down and I wonder if maybe it wasn’t so bad. Then scold myself for wishing that it tasted good to them. Because why do I care if they like it or not?
Right?
I mean, the goal is to leave this castle and return home.
Right???
I lie to myself, saying that I only wish to make it through the next round to see more of the castle, more of the people who live here. That my captivity at the hands of my father has just made me more curious than others. The lie festers as Jasper wraps my arm and to my utter surprise, doesn’t have me escorted from the room. Instead I join the other four girls who have passed the first round.
The woman with poisoned eyes stands abruptly and walks my way, grabbing me by the arm. “Not her, Jasper. Her blood held nothing of consequence. I’ll personally lead her to my own castle so you don’t have to dispose of her yourself.”
“Not so fast, Belladonna,” Lord Navar growls, standing quickly. His next words to her are in the other language. She shouts back at him, her fingers sliding up my arm to my neck. As another lady joins Lord Navar’s cause, Belladonna reluctantly releases me and storms from the room, winking at me before the door shuts behind her.
I turn to look at the other girls whose faces harbor the same confusion as my own. Why did that woman, Belladonna, try to take me for herself? And what about my blood made the others insist that I move on?
When the talking dies down, the lords and ladies rise from their chairs, one even going so far as to drag his finger through the dregs of my blood and suck the remnants off the tip before setting his glass down on the empty tray. “Exquisite. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”
