Page 47 of The Sanguine Selection
No, this time, I am out for blood.
23
Oxana
I’m so confused.I can’t get used to this life—is being bound, drunk from, and teased into madness as normal as things will ever be for me? Yes, I know it could be worse. Much worse. I could be a lower slave like the others I’ve met. Forced to clean this ancient castle, Sintara I think they called it. I could be owned by a less savory lady or lord who would use me for things other than blood, debase my body in ways I can’t even imagine.
I’ve heard noises in the corridors of the castle, when I’ve been ushered from place to place. Moans that weren’t wrought from pain. Screams not loosened by a beating or neglect, but something more, something pleasurable. In spite of the blood drinking and being surrounded by monsters, I know that not only heinous things happen here. There are naughty things, filthy things, things my simple brain can’t even comprehend. I get the idea that I might like to find out one day, with the right person.
But I have no people—and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. The other slaves, the humans, have a camaraderie about them, an understanding and a support system on a much deeper level than I can comprehend. It reminds me of my relationship with Papa, the only other relationship I’ve ever experienced. And though I trusted him with my life, I also knew he kept secrets. He didn’t trust me, or my judgment. His fierce protectiveness over me clouded his ability to see that I was my own person with my own feelings, thoughts, and desires. If what I wanted was different from his own ideals, it was squashed and never discussed again.
In some fucked up way, I was as much a slave then as I am here, I just didn’t know it. Only now, I’m not alone, not completely anyway. This castle, though it is a prison of sorts, is filled with life. Vampires and humans bustle along its halls and mingle in its rooms. Carriages come and go, taking people away and dropping others off. Day turns to night, and night back to day, the air not filled with endless inhuman howling. But the main difference is I’m not filled with terror. Trepidation yes, but the gut wrenching terror that clogged my throat day after day, the endless worry every time Papa would leave the house, that has diminished.
Maybe I just don’t care anymore. Maybe in some way, I’ve given up. An emptiness grows inside of me with each passing hour and a desperate yearning for something I can’t quite put my finger on. I know there’s something I crave, but I don’t know what it is. It’s maddening.
Turning onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling and let out a sigh. Is this what my life really is going to be—hours filled with endless boredom while I wait to be summoned by the kings? Memories of the moon room have me shivering and a phantom sensation has me reaching between my legs to ensure that golden finger isn’t still lodged inside of me. The things they had me do, forced me to do, are appalling.
But at least my body is mine again, the blood stopped for now. And I know what to expect when the next full moon rises in the night’s sky, what the kings will be like, while also understanding why Papa tried so hard all my life to stop this bleeding from happening. I shudder at the memory of one of the kings—I don’t remember which—lying between my spread legs, his grotesque mouth stretched wide, capturing blood as it poured out between my legs. The noises he was making were sickening.
Slurps and growls.
I must have been going mad because I swear his face…it changed as he drank, morphed from monster to human. And I couldn’t look away, my eyes fixed on this creature drinking from me as if my blood was the most decadent thing he’d ever had the pleasure to taste. It was so gross, but some part of me was almost proud of it. Proud that of all the women in the moon room, of all the females sifted through during the selection, that it was me, my blood that called to them. And that right there is how I know I’ve lost my mind.
No one with a clear head would even consider the things I’m thinking.
Feeling restless, I toss off the covers and slip from my bed, pacing from the fireplace to the iron bars keeping me inside. Try as I might to empty my mind of the twins, I can’t seem to do it. Every thought that flits through my mind ends up at them. At what they might have looked like before they withered away. At what they might do to me once they regain their strength. Another shudder, this one not wholly in revulsion.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I wish I could blame it on lack of sleep or starvation, but neither one of those would be true. I’m fed like a royal here, too much most of the time. And I’m so exhausted at the end of each night that I sleep practically all day long. My days and nights have switched since I came here. How long has it been anyway? I should ask for some paper or a bound journal to keep track of things—who knows what might be helpful to reflect on in the future.
I pause in front of the fireplace and sit down on the rug lying before it, the fabric a rich crimson. Flames dance happily inside, the colors ranging from bright yellow to orange to blue. The sound of crackling wood comforts me and I draw my knees up to my chest, surrounding them with my arms while rocking slightly on the floor. I’d kill for something warmer to wear, and wonder where they’ve stored Papa’s coat and Mama’s fur dress or her necklace.
The necklace!
My hand lurches to my neck, but it's not there.
No, no, no.
Mama’s necklace—it’s gone! I know I had it on when I first got here. Jasper had looked at it with such awe, like he’d seen it before. Hell, when he pulled that blade out of the bottom, it all but confirmed his knowledge of it. But how did he know? And was he the one who took it, during my first night here, when he brought me into the tombs?
I thought he was my friend or at least someone on my side, but my opinions of him have vastly changed. Within my chest, I feel the well of sadness deepening. Tears won’t even surface now, the supplies all dried up.
Outside the window, dawn has given way to day, but the sun’s bright rays can’t be seen through the thick, winter clouds that blanket the sky. Sleep calls to me, my eyes growing heavy even as my room lightens with the rising sun. Sunshine can’t quell the ache in my heart, the disparity growing there. What’s the fucking point of trying to live when everything here seems to be set on using me, or worse. I’ve seen the glowers, the stares. Even some of the humans look at me despairingly, though it seems more like jealousy than anything.
Because I’m not cleaning up the dirt and blood leftover from the vampires.
I’m not the one who could be grabbed at any moment and used for whatever purposes the monsters see fit.
I’m the Blood Slave.
I scoff aloud. The title hasn’t granted me extra comfort or powers. No extra protection that I’ve noticed. Unless you count the iron bars keeping me captive within this room.
Sighing again, I push off the ground and gaze out the barred window to the world beyond. Snow falls in thick flakes, gently covering the empty limbs of the forest. The sun peeks out from between fluffy clouds, casting sparkles on the snow wherever its rays touch. It’s beautiful. Serene even. But no more tangible than a picture hanging on a wall.
Shutting the heavy curtains over the window, I head to the bathroom and wash up before walking back to my bed. In the five minutes it took for me to use the bathroom, someone had entered my room, made my bed, and laid out a nightgown for me to change into. I glance around, wondering how they got in, and how the hell I didn’t hear them. A shudder ripples through me and I wonder if I’m being watched all the time by some secret magic.
My hands brush across the fabric of the nightgown before snatching it up. It’s beautiful, but sheer, with long sleeves and delicate embroidery along the modest neckline. Looking around one more time to ensure I’m alone, I pull off the shift and slip into the nightgown. Though I appreciate its beauty, I loathe it. Loathe that it isn’t warm. That it exposes every fucking inch of my body, making me feel more vulnerable and more insecure than I already am.
