Page 39 of The Sanguine Selection
Untwisting my body from the covers wound around me, I push them down to my hips and sit up, swiping the sweat from my brows. A chill prickles at my skin as the perspiration cools and my eyes twist towards the bathroom, to the tub I know is sitting in there but empty.
I’d give anything for a good soak and a hot meal. Even a simple vegetable stew, the broth more water than flavor like at home.
Home…
I stuff down the image of our little house and survey my surroundings, my nightmare still vivid in my mind. In it, a pair of rotted corpses were drinking from…drinking from…
No.
It couldn’t have been real. “Just a dream,” I mutter to myself. But as I pull my legs from the covers, I startle. There, on my pale legs, on my thighs, is the evidence of what happened to me. It wasn’t a fucking dream.
Bruised fingerprints, long and narrow, have turned my skin dark blue. Two pairs, two sets of hands. I gulp, my mouth going dry. Fear clutches in my gut, twisting my insides, making my heart race in my chest.
A scream builds in my lungs, one filled with terror and anguish. My stomach clenches low, squeezing. I felt the same, horrible sensation last night as something gushes between my legs.
I spread my thighs and see blood. So much blood. I swipe my hand through it, wondering what’s happening to me, desperate to clean it off, to learn where it’s coming from. I slip from the bed and race to the bathroom as a soft voice whispers to me from the barred doors to my room.
“Do not wash yourself. That blood is sacred.”
I still like prey trying to hide from a predator and slowly turn to face the intruder but my fear fades quickly. A human woman enters my room. She looks about my age, maybe a little older. She wears the same thin shift I’d seen other servants wearing during the Sampling. Transparent and thin, the shift reveals every inch of her body beneath it from her small breasts to the apex between her thighs.
Around her forearms is some kind of metal brace, and on each brace is a metal circle, like a segment of broken chain. A similar piece is bound around both her lower legs, mid calf to ankle. Her bright orange hair is pulled away from her face and bound at the base of her neck, exposing some kind of wound. Two circular punctures, scabbed over but the skin around them still pink and healing. No idea what kind of weapon could cause such a thing. Then a memory surfaces, of Elias, of his chilled lips as he sucked at my skin…
And bit me.
A phantom pain stings my neck and I scrub at my skin, rubbing my own twin scabs, still swollen and uncomfortable. She notices my gaze and reaches up to touch her own. An unspoken message passes from her to me in the softening of her big, brown eyes, an understanding of having experienced the same thing herself. Both victims of the same cruelty.
“Why are you here?” I ask, remembering she spoke when she entered my room. “And what do you mean the blood is sacred?”
She takes a step forward, a tentative step. “I have come to retrieve you at Jasper’s request.”
I huff and roll my eyes, noticing she doesn’t answer my second question. I cross my arms over my chest and say rather hastily, “Well you can tell Jasper that I’m not coming.”
Her voice deepens, taking on a stern tone. “To defy Jasper is to defy the kings. I know you’re new here and do not yet understand how Sintara runs but—”
“What the hell is Sintara?” I interrupt, her eyes widening.
She clenches her fists and her sides and I can tell I’ve annoyed her. “Sintara is the castle. Your home. Some believe the castle itself is a sentient being. Now, put this on and follow me.” She bends down to retrieve a small, brown satchel from the floor and tosses it towards me. “It is not a request.”
“And if I don’t?” I taunt, feeling more blood dribble down my leg.
She arches a brow at me in challenge. “Then I shall send someone else to retrieve you. A male, perhaps?” I can feel my face pale and she knows she’s won. Stooping, I pick up the satchel and dump out the contents on my bed, subconsciously rubbing my sore belly. It contains an outfit, same as hers, complete with arm bands, leg bands.
“Am I to be their slave,” I whisper, holding up the shift, tears blurring my eyes.
“No. You are to be much more than that, more than any of us could hope to ever become.”
I nod solemnly but don’t believe her words, then notice another item. Something small and made of shiny gold metal. It’s the width of a medium sized carrot, and three inches long. One end is rounded, and the other has a small loop attached to it. I turn it over in my hands and spin back toward her, holding it up. “What do I do with this?”
A blush creeps up her face, making her even prettier. “It goes inside you. A stopper of sorts, for the blood.”
I blanch, voice shaking. “Inside me… Will…will it hurt?”
She shrugs. “Maybe a little, if it’s your first time. More uncomfortable than actual pain. Best get it in before you lose any more blood. That will make the kings most unhappy.”
Like I give a shit about the kings. I keep that thought to myself. This whole moment is surreal, I think, as I grab the contents of the bag and make my way to the bathroom, the bathroom with no door on it. If I face away from the girl at least I’ll have a semblance of privacy. I shrug out of my nightgown, letting it pool at my feet and quickly slip the shift over my head. Just like hers, I can see my entire body beneath it. Every single inch.
Mortified, I bind the bands around my lower legs then pick up the golden item, staring at it like it will start murmuring directions at me. I have no idea where this damn thing goes.
