Page 57 of The Sanguine Selection
And usually, if they both appear hungry, they keep me in my cage and feed off me through the bars. I don’t know what they think I’ll do if I’m freed. I have no power over them, no sway. It’s not like I can fight back or stop them from using me. And if I’m honest with myself, I wouldn’t want them to. It’s the only time of day I’m allowed out of here, and the more they drink, the less, for lack of a better word, freedom I have. No more meals with the other humans, something I really miss. There was no pressure with them, even if I didn’t fit in exactly, I knew they wouldn’t pretend I wasn’t a living thing and simply feed off me without acknowledgement.
Because that’s how it is with the twins—they don’t even speak to me. They just come in, eyes blazing, tug me out of my cage and place me wherever they want to while they drink. Sometimes the bed, a table, a floor. Sometimes they…disrobe me, their wicked hands skating along my skin, searching, caressing, stroking.
Something low in my belly curls at the thought, an ache between my legs throbbing. An ache I want to relieve on my own so fucking bad though I’ve been forbidden. And I just know that if I did so without their permission, they’d know. Their sense of smell is a power all on its own. They can scent people lingering in the hallways. Scent what I’ve eaten for the day before they pierce my flesh with the tips of their sharp fangs.
Sometimes I think they can control how their bites feel to me, because I can feel pleasure ebb and flow, build and release, over and over and over again. It brings me to the brink of an explosion, as if my body might literally burst into flames. Electricity zaps, coiling within me til my vision goes black and I can no longer see, only feel.
Then it simply drifts away leaving me aching and wet between my legs, desperate for their touch, painful or not. I can’t stand it though I hunger for it as much as they thirst for me. But what drives me crazy more than anything is how they can just pretend that I’m not here, caged in their rooms. Here, I have no privacy, not even a name.
It’s always, slave, or pet, or little human, if they even call me anything at all. I usually know what they want by their actions, slight tilts of their heads, where their inhuman eyes land on me. Jasper told me shortly after my blood was found worthy, to never,ever, tell them my name. That it could mean my life if they ever learned it. I can’t wrap my head around that, how the knowledge of a name could be so profound. What could possibly happen if they knew who I was? It would mean nothing, another useless name from another useless human girl.
I wrap father’s coat around myself and inhale, his scent still lingering in the fur is the only thing that gives me peace, that makes me feel so not alone. Jasper had said he’d try to find out what happened to Papa. Part of me already knows the truth because how could he have survived? I saw the wound. Saw how quick the fever spread. But I refuse to acknowledge that, refuse to grieve for something I can’t prove to be true.
Feeling restless, I rise off the mattress and pace the short length of my cage on bare feet. Today, Marek has slept in here with me, he on the bed and me on the floor. They rotate, the other drifting off to separate rooms behind closed doors, rooms that I never get to see.
Heavy deep red curtains are drawn over the bed so I can’t see him inside. The same drapes are closed over the single window, leaving the room in utter darkness even in the day. At least it would be if the fire went out. But it crackles and flickers on the wall opposite mine. Sometimes I get lost in the flames for hours, seeming the only company I have at times. And the kings, when they sleep…it’s like they’re dead. Papa used to snore, the sound so loud it would echo through our little home and vibrate the sides of my head at night.
The kings are silent. Like they don’t even breathe. They don’t move, don’t twist in their covers or fluff up their pillows. It’s all so…unnatural. Sometimes I wonder if that is the reason for the drawn curtains, so I don’t see the truth, see them when they are most vulnerable.
Hell, I wish I had some curtains to hide myself from their prying eyes and heated glances. The only times I’m able to hide behind a door and actually be alone is when I’m using the bathroom. Thank the gods, because if they stood there while I was—
The curtains around the bed pull back and Marek sits up, silver eyes boring into mine. A moment later Mikhail appears from his room, bare chested, low slung cream pants almost dripping off his hips. Without realizing it, I’ve crawled to the edge of the cage and wrapped my fingers around the bars, desire coursing through me, burning me, like hot coals raking down my skin. I lick my lips, and drag my gaze up the length of the vampire king to find him staring as intently at me as I am at him.
Marek moves beside his brother, and I watch him intensely. Twin kings. They almost vibrate with power and dominance. They are seduction personified, with their glowing eyes and muscled bodies, lush hair, and white teeth. Their lips are perfect for sucking, supple and full. Their hands are strong and deft, and their scent… My eyes practically roll into the back of my head as I inhale sharply and expel a heated breath.
Marek tilts his head, eyes shifting from shimmery silver to bright gold. Mikhail turns to his brother, and though his lips don’t move, I would bet my life that they are communicating. A moment later Marek shakes his head and his eyes blink, the gold fading back to silver. And as their eyes return to normal, so do my senses. I release the bars and scoot back to the other side of the cage, away from them, wrapping Papa’s coat around myself again.
Mikhail moves to the window, pulling open the curtains. The waning crescent moon steadily rises in the sky, stars sparkling around it.
“Enter,” Marek says lazily and my eyes shoot to the door as Jasper walks in, dressed impeccably as usual.
He bows. “My kings. The servants are ready to prepare you.”
“And the human?” Mikhail asks, still staring out the window.
“Lord Navar has offered to…keep an eye on things while you three get ready.”
Mikhail shifts his gaze back to me and cocks his head. “I could think of no one better.”
Jasper bows again, then snaps his fingers. Like a colony of ants, servants—humans—enter the space. Some wheeling carts filled with jugs of steaming water. Other’s holding hangers draped with clothing. So many questions tickle the edge of my tongue, like what are they getting ready for, but I swallow them down. I’m not to talk unless spoken to or receive…receive…
Punishment.
The word has a deep, shameful heat growing low, expanding beneath my skin. But I dare not open my mouth, especially not in front of Jasper. If he saw what they did to me, I’d be mortified. Would he stop them, I wonder, or would he simply stand by and watch?
I already know the answer as the kings drift off into their private rooms adjoining this one and more humans pile in. Still, I can’t get used to the sheer clothing they wear, and their absolute lack of humility when their bodies are exposed as they are. I’m embarrassed, and it’s not even me.
Another rolling rack filled with water is wheeled into the bathroom—this one, for me. And before I’m even let out of the cage, a familiar vampire lord saunters into the room as if he owns the fucking place.
Lord Navar.
I haven't seen much of him since The Selection and to be honest, I’m surprised to see him here, that the kings have allowed it. As he casts his gaze around the room, stroking his long, black beard, his red eyes land on me.
A flashback sucks the air from my lungs and I jerk back, fear rising inside me though I don’t know why. Something about him just doesn’t sit right with me. Something about him gives me the creeps.
Maybe it’s his intentional blatant stare, his unblinking eyes tracking my every movement like a skilled predator. But he makes me uneasy. And heaven forbid I tell the kings, how dare I consider speaking without authorization.
So I don’t.
