Page 47 of My Master
All at once the convulsions stopped, and she lay still.
“Get up,” Caesareon barked.
She did, her little face had gone pale her eyes now crimson. There were black spider web veins, like cracks in a porcelain vase, trailing up her pale skin. She looked as though she were made of marble. Cracked, bleeding marble.
Her head cocked to the side awkwardly, as if she were seeing the world through brand new eyes. Isis supposed that she was. Her senses would be better now, sharper. Isis saw her nostrils flare as she sniffed the air around her.
“Blood!” she said suddenly. “Blood!” And she turned to the humans on the floor and tried lunging for one.
“Do not move,” Caesareon ordered, his black pupils swallowing the yellow.
She obeyed.
“What is your name, vampire?” he asked smoothly.
“Rebecca.”
“Rebecca.” He tasted the name on his tongue. “Very well, Rebecca. You may call me ‘Master.’”
“Master…” she repeated.
He smiled. “Very good.”
And then, one by one, he turned humans against their will.
21
Esmeralda doubled over, grasping at her stomach in an attempt to calm the beating she was receiving against it. The pain didn’t stop her from being amazed at how fast she had run there. She was still riding on adrenaline when she straightened out and hid in the shadows along stores, keeping as far away from the light as she could.
What was happening around her was exactly what she had expected to run in to. Pure hell. The stench of blood filled her nose, making her wrinkle it. It was so overpowering and surprising—she had never been able to smell things that potently before. Her senses were sharper; she was more attuned to what was going on around her. It was easy for her to hear the pounding footsteps stepping on the pavement, more aware of the leaves ruffling, of shallow breathing. Was this what it was like to become a vampire? If so, it was glorious.
Antonio, where are you? Where are you?
All that came to her as a reply was white noise.
She groaned and kept walking along shadows. Why wasn’t he responding? She knew nothing was wrong with him, if he would have been hurt, she would have felt it. She was sure of it.
Antonio, please, answer me,
There was a little noise, so light, almost a whisper; it could have been in her mind. A flood of happiness washed through her.Antonio?
“Pretty girl.”
She froze where she was as the voice called out to her. A voice so unfamiliar to her, not accented, not deep and rich and beautiful. It wasn’t a voice that spoke home or love. The voice was a low guttural growl.
She turned and saw, standing a few feet from her, illuminated by a small stream of light, a person—well, not exactly a person—he was standing on two feet, but his face was all wolf, with the dark eyes of a human. His snout was long, jaw gaping, revealing ugly sharp teeth. His muzzle was wet with something thick that couldn’t have been water or saliva. No wonder his voice had sounded like a growl.
“You are very pretty…” he growled again.
Which is more than I can say for you,“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“You smell delightful.”
She swallowed the rising fear in her throat. “New perfume…” she croaked. She wasn’t sure why she was being a smart ass, it probably wasn’t the brightest idea but she was scared, and she didn’t plan on cowering like a fool.
“Aren’t you a funny one?” He smiled, his red tongue lolling out. “I bet you taste divine.”
She fought the urge to gag at the hidden meaning behind what he said. He was going to kill her. He was going to eat her. She put a protective hand to her stomach. He noticed the little movement.
