Chapter 3: Take off Your Clothes

-Ronan-

"Ah, I can almost feel the fun slipping out of the room." Desmond grins at me. "Have fun with your new pet, little brother."

He grabs the new Red's arm and pulls her away, leaving me alone with Arabella.

She hasn't stopped staring since she bumped into me, and I need to put some distance between us before I unwillingly pounce on her.

The smell she radiates is delicious and makes my mouth water, but before I taste her, we need to set down the rules. I doubt Desmond took the trouble with his new attendant, but with the glamor, she'll do everything he asks of her without hesitation.

"Sit down," I say, stepping around the couch and taking a seat.

It takes her a few seconds to snap to attention, and she makes her way around as well, sitting opposite to me.

It's not lost on me that she has no luggage, only a tiny handbag big enough to carry a wallet and a few personal things. She's truly given herself up without looking back.

Her legs cross and uncross as she stares at me, trying to put on a brave face. I've been around humans for long enough to know she's terrified, even though she's doing a decent job of hiding it.

"I want to go over the contract one last time to make everything clear," I say, pulling out my phone. "Since you refuse to be glamored, you will have to obey of your own volition. I will go through the main points."

Arabella nods, and it pains me to look away.

I want to devour her.

"Your name is too long. I will call you Ara."

"That's what my friends call me," she says.

"Don't speak unless spoken to." I search through my email and open up the contract.

"Noted. Sorry. I will shut up now."

Looking up, I see that she bites her lips together to refrain from talking.

This is going to be so much harder than I had anticipated.

"You've taken the birth control injection at the agency, I presume?"

She shudders and nods.

Fuck.

Why did I have to go and pick the most beautiful human I've ever seen?

I take no pleasure in fucking girls who do it for the money when there are so many others who willingly come to my bed. But I know I won't be able to resist her.

She hasn't been glamored, yet it feels like it's me who has been glamored by her, and she's barely spoken more than ten words.

"I am in charge of all your medical, food, and living expenses from here on out. No physical harm will come to you, and any attack on you is a direct attack on me. You will tell me if anything is wrong. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"The contract lasts twenty years, beginning today." I pause and look at her, wanting to see how she reacts to this. She merely nods and takes a deep breath. "How old are you, by the way?"

"Twenty-two."

She'll be forty-two, then, when this ends.

It's not that I feel bad for her, but I do pity her situation. So many things she won't be able to do.

No one has forced her into this, though. I don't know what circumstances led her to choose to become an attendant, given her brief response during the interview.

And honestly, I don't even want to know. It'll be easier this way.

"You are to never question my rules or orders, even if it causes you discomfort or pain. You will call me Ronan or Master."

Being called anyone's master feels despicable, but I know from other people's experiences that boundaries must be set early on. Though I've never heard of someone dealing with an unglamored attendant.

Presumably, the rules and boundaries must be tighter in this case.

"Everything you see and hear regarding me or my family is strictly confidential. A breach of confidentiality, however small, is grounds for immediate termination and a reversal of payment. For fuck's sake, this is boring."

Arabella looks amused at my reaction, but she quickly attempts to clear her expression when I look at her.

"You've read the damn thing before signing. I think those are the most important points," I say, putting away my phone. "You're allowed to ask questions now."

I'm dying to ask HER more things, but not now. Not ever, if I can help it. The less I know what's inside her mind, the easier it will be to treat her as an attendant and not a meal.

"May I have a glass of water?"

"Of all the things you can ask, that's the most pressing thing on your mind?"

"I'm thirsty." She shrugs and brushes her hair away from her face. "The last time I ate was—"

"I did not ask you that."

"Okay."

"Yes, sir. Or yes, Ronan. Yes, Master."

"Yes, Ronan," she says, saluting. Again, she bites her lip and promptly lowers her arm.

I don't know if I'm annoyed at her attitude or if I'm actually enjoying it despite the implications. If she behaves this way in front of other vampires, they'll immediately know she isn't glamored, and that could present a few minor problems.

"Unless I tell you to, you do not talk to anyone other than my family members. No one can know you've rejected being glamored. For your own safety."

She only nods and sits there, her eyes wandering around the room. She seems particularly interested in the painted portraits over the mantlepiece. I don't even know how far back they go, but the oldest one must be over three hundred years old.

"Come here," I say, unable to stand being away from her any longer.

The urge to taste her is driving me crazy.

She walks up to me, and I gently pull her toward me, seating her on the couch. I brush her hair away from her neck, and I can sense her rich, red blood pulsing through her veins. Her heart is pounding, thrumming in her chest.

Curiously, she doesn't flinch or close her eyes as I bring my mouth closer to her skin.

"Ronan! Are you still here?" Mother's voice flies in through the slit in the door. "Oh. I see you've finally listened to me."

I let go of Ara and she tenses up, as if this is the dangerous part and not what I was about to do to her.

Mother saunters in wearing one of those dresses that may have been all the rage a hundred years ago. Now, she only wears them inside the house so as to not look ridiculous, because they remind her of "true elegance and not this excuse they pass off for clothes these days."

"What are you calling her?" Observing Ara, she sits where Ara had just been a few moments ago. "She's rather thin, isn't she? Are you sure she'll be able to handle the blood loss?"

Ara's eyes dart between her and me.

"Her name is Arabella, but she'll be called Ara. And she'll be fine, she passed all the health exams."

"You really should toss out that outfit. Please keep her dressed, dear. One half-naked human around the house is enough, and Desmond is unlikely to want to cover up that new one."

"We won't be staying here," I reply, dropping a bomb I knew she wouldn't like.

"But we've just moved back! I haven't seen you in years." Mother moves next to me, places a hand on my arm, and squeezes. "Where are you going?"

"I'm moving back to my place. The renovations are pretty much done."

"Oh, well, that's close enough." She smiles and observes Ara again. "When I got Jay, it took me a while to adjust to him. But he made my life so much better in the end."

Mother's first pet is long gone, but she still talks of him as if he's one of the family. The new one is rarely seen outside formal events, where she shows him off, as a vampire does.

"We have to get going." I stand and gesture for Ara to do the same. "See you later, Mother."

I head outside and look back to see if Ara is behind me, and I realize how painfully slowly she moves. She walks as if she's taking a stroll in a park, her head bobbing everywhere, taking in the manor's lavish decorations.

I see now that I'm going to have to teach her how to act glamored.

The drive to my place takes five minutes, and as soon as we're inside, I start regretting the whole thing all over again. It feels like she's trespassing into my sanctuary, the only place I can truly be alone with my thoughts.

And right now, all my thoughts are with her: her scent, her eyes, her body.

"The kitchen is that way. Get some water and come into this room. There are a few more things we need to go over." I wait for her in the library, and in a few seconds she's back with a cup in her hand.

If the estate awed her before, now she looks completely mesmerized. Her jaw drops when she scans the shelves on the wall, cautiously moving between the sofas and tables in the center.

"The most important rule you must follow is to never, under any circumstances, lie to me. Do you understand?" I say once she's sat down.

"Yes." She nods and takes a sip of her water.

"Why have you chosen not to be glamored?" The question pops out of my mouth before I even realize it. I've been wondering ever since the brief, telling interview today.

She sets the cup down on the coffee table and looks up before setting her eyes on me again.

"I don't want to lose twenty years of my life. Even if I suffer, I want those memories to be mine. There's nothing worse than erasing someone's past."

"Even if the things you do aren't...worth remembering?" That's putting it mildly. It's not that I actively plan to humiliate or hurt the poor girl, but humans are weak. Some things that are normal for vampires can be a little...extreme for them.

"Everything is worth remembering. Even the painful parts. Too many of the world's problems happen because people don't learn from their mistakes and drown their sorrows away instead of facing them." There's sadness in her voice. Pain. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble."

Before, I had no intention of digging into this girl's reasons to be here. Now she's a book I want to pour myself into. Who hurt her, and why does she feel so...broken?

And she's eloquent, not a ditzy airhead like the ones Desmond enjoys.

"Come here," I say, and just like the first time, she doesn't flinch or hesitate. Now that I'm in an armchair, she immediately accommodates herself on top of me.

The weight of her body feels comforting in a strange way, and for some reason, I want to embrace her. Get lost within her.

But that is not how this is supposed to go.

"Come here and take off your clothes," I say.

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