Chapter 2

Simone's POV

A knock on my door wakes me from the terrible nightmare. I’m soaked in sweat and my throat burns. I've been told I scream in my sleep, so I've always just assumed that's the cause of my nightly sore throat.

It’s always the same dream. Every night without fail.

When I’m awake, I can push the memories away. Pretend everything is okay and that I’m happy, but when I go to sleep, it comes back with terrifying clarity and it always takes me a few minutes to calm back down. “Lady Simone,” the slave calls on the other side of the door. “It’s getting late.”

I snort loudly to myself. Lady Simone. I became ‘Lady’ after my mother walked into the ocean and left me all alone in this world, surrounded by bloodthirsty monsters. I love her, but I hate what she did to me. “Lady Simone!” the slave calls, her voice taking on an edge of panic.

“Come in,” I croak and throw my legs off the bed. I yawn and stretch languidly.

The room is beautiful and luxurious. I have the best of everything and everyone thinks I’m treated like a spoiled princess. They treat me like. The other humans in the house hate me, and the vampires envy me. None of them would feel that way if they knew what it’s really like, how much it hurts to be Baron’s special human.

The slave puts a tray laden with food on the table by the window that looks out over the back garden and flies past me into the bathroom to get my bath ready. Sighing, I get up and lift the domes covering my food. It’s a good meal – fresh fruit, vegetables, chicken, rice, and because I have trouble animating my corpse every evening, a pot of coffee.

I sit and watch the sunset while I take small bites of food. Lately, I have had to force myself to eat. I think I'm depressed. More and more, I want to follow my mother into the ocean and put an end to it all. I wish I went with her that night. I wish I listened to her.

There’s no one I can talk to. I’m under constant guard, and Baron won’t let me go as easily as he let my mother go. I can’t even go to the other humans. Their lives are so much worse compared to mine. What will I say? I have the best of everything, food, clothes, an education, a soft bed. Compared to them, what do I have to complain about? I don’t live in the camps with the livestock. I’m not used as a breeder or a slave. My life is good.

I grab the little medicine glass next to my plate and swallow the vitamins with the last of my coffee. Leaving more than half the food behind, I sneak into the bathroom and gently tap the exhausted slave on the shoulder. She gasps and looks at me with big eyes. I quickly push a finger in front of my lips, then help her up from the floor and take her to my table.

I gesture to the food and make eating motions. The slave’s eyes light up with surprise. There’s a vampire guard right outside my door, so I have to be careful, but I lean in very close “Be quick,” I whisper as softly as I can.

The girl nods and starts to shovel food into her mouth. “Will you help me wash my hair?” I ask so the guard will hear, otherwise he’ll be in here in the next five minutes to see why the slave hasn’t returned.

“Yes, of course, milady.”

I shake my head when she gets up. She sits back down and keeps eating while I run on my tiptoes to the bathroom. I can wash my own damn hair.

Tonight, like most nights, Baron has dinner guests. His chef always whips up interesting dishes made entirely of blood containing various herbs and spices.

Getting ready to entertain Baron and his guests is a tedious process. I always have to look my best even though it’s not my appearance that matters to him. It’s my blood. The rarest of the rare - they call it golden blood. I’m literally a vampire delicacy, and while no one’s allowed to bite me, he does like to show me off so they can smell what they can't have.

By the time I’m done in the bathroom, the slave is gone and Darma is waiting for me with a needle and a blood bag. It’s been our weekly routine for the last three months. This weekend is the Festival of Creation, the date the vampires believe the first of their kind was created. It’s a three-day-long orgy of blood, sex, and death.

I’m never allowed to attend the festival, but Baron will share my rare blood with his fellow vampire rulers on the last night of the festival. I know exactly when they’ve had my blood. They go into an absolute frenzy. When that happens, the sound of sex and the smell of blood permeate through the mansion, reaching even my gilded cage.

Darma and I don’t speak much anymore and tonight is no exception. She yanks the needle out of my arm, wipes away the pearl of blood, and leaves without saying a single word. A second later my beauty team, as I call them, come swanning in and start to do my hair and make-up.

They move so fast that I can’t even focus on them. They’re nothing more than a blur of hands, arms, combs and brushes. It takes them less than ten minutes to do my hair and make-up. One lifts a sapphire blue evening gown from the bed and without asking, yanks my robe off then roughly pulls the heavy dress over my head. At least this one doesn’t require petticoats. Those are the worst.

She does the laces of the strapless dress up and stands back to admire her handiwork. “Hey, Myra, get the sapphires.”

Myra disappears in a blur of movement and a few seconds later reappears, carrying a velvet jewellery box. She’s not even out of breath. The sapphire and diamond necklace with matching earrings and bracelet are spectacular, and when I leave this room, every human will assume they belong to me, but nothing belongs to me. I don’t even own the clothes on my back.

At seven on the dot, I’m done and Baron enters. “Aren’t you a vision,” he drawls.

Like most vampires, Baron is magnetic, but he’s not attractive at first glance. His nose is crooked from being broken one time too many when he was still human, and he has a thick scar running from just above his left eye to below his jaw on the right.

His sharp as razors cheekbones, light brown eyes and thick, black lashes might have looked good on a human, but it gives him a menacing appearance.

No one knows how old Baron is. Some say thousands of years old. There are a lot of myths and mysteries surrounding our vampire overlord, but as far as I know, he has never told anyone his true age, not even his advisors.

I don’t look at myself in the mirror as I walk over to join Baron. I slip my hand through his arm and demurely walk by his side. I keep my eyes downcast, not looking left or right at the beautiful tapestries and paintings that drape the walls of the old mansion.

As he always does, he goes straight to the dining room. This is where I lift my head for the first time to look at tonight’s collection of distinguished guests. They all rise and bow to us. Baron gallantly pulls out my chair and slides it in under me before he too sits down. “You may be seated,” he says. It’s all very formal and polite...and it’s all bullshit.

Despite the amount of blood they’ll consume over dinner, the vampires will head down to Baron’s donor room before the night is out and gorge themselves on the humans. Tomorrow morning at first light, the slaves will take the bodies out to cremate them.

I recognise all but two of the vampires. One, in particular, doesn’t stop staring at me. It’s not uncommon, he can probably smell my blood, but usually, they don’t show their interest openly – they always try to at least hide it from Baron.

He’s attractive. His dark hair is neatly combed back, and his chiselled jaw is set in a tight line of something I can only describe as disapproval. His steel-grey eyes bore into me so hard that it feels as if he’s looking straight into my soul.

He lifts his elbows onto the table and interlaces his long, elegant fingers, resting his chin on his hands without once looking away. “Aldric?” Baron growls a warning. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” the mysterious vampire replies. “Just wondering when you plan to introduce me to your enchanting companion.”

“She’s mine,” Baron says.

I risk a glance in the overlord’s direction. His eyes flash dangerously and he bares his fangs at Aldric. I grip the sides of my chair and ready myself to get out of the way.

“Oh calm down,” Aldric says. “I’m not laying claim to her.”

Baron’s fangs retract with an audible pop. “Simone, might I introduce Magister Aldric?”

“Nice to meet you,” I say softly.

“See?” Aldric says and leans back in his chair. “Now was that so difficult?”

The butler appears with his cart carrying nine white bowls of steaming hot blood soup. The only thing I get is a glass of wine. Vampires don’t like to see humans eat, and so I’m expected to sit here, drink my wine, and be a pleasant dinner companion. “What ward to you manage Magister?” I ask Aldric.

He dips his spoon in the soup, but he doesn’t eat it. “Ward two,” he says.

My eyes widen a little, but I quickly remember myself and nod. It’s the biggest ward with the most camps, which means either Baron trusts this vampire above all others, or Aldric is exceedingly powerful in his own right. “What about you?” he asks, still ignoring his soup. “Where do you come from?”

I glance at Baron. He’s pretending not to listen, but he’s not missing a word. “I was born in a breeder camp.”

“Ah.” Is it my imagination or did I see a flash of sympathy in his eyes? “I’m sorry.”

It sounds like he means it, which is very strange. Baron snorts softly, but the other vampires are quietly slurping their blood. “Soup not to your liking?” the overlord asks.

Aldric looks down at his bowl as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “Yeah, no offence but I am not one for all the added spices and shit. I prefer my blood a little-” he looks straight at me -“purer.”

A sliver of fear runs down my back. I’ve always been protected, but something tells me this vampire doesn’t really care what Baron thinks or does.

He pushes his bowl away, takes a sip of the carbonated blood, grimaces, and puts it aside with the bowl. He wipes his mouth with the clean, white napkin and stands. I stare up at the tall vampire, completely awestruck by his imposing figure. “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Baron,” Aldric says. “I will pay my respects.”

Baron is clearly displeased, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s incredibly strange. Aldric is disrespecting Baron in his own home. I’ve never seen a vampire get away with that kind of behaviour.

Aldric walks away without another word and it’s as if someone lifted a heavy blanket from the gathered vampires. The moment he’s gone they break out in animated conversation.

I don’t pay any attention to them. My mind is with the strange vampire. Everything inside me is screaming to run after him and I don’t know why. “Are you quite all right, darling?” Baron asks and puts a scorching hand on my wrist.

“Yes,” I say and give him a faltering smile. “I feel a little unwell. I donated blood for the festival before we came down. May I be excused?”

“Of course.” Baron looks over his shoulder and snaps his fingers at my guard. “Escort Lady Simone to her room.”

What I really want to do is go outside. I haven’t been outside in ages, but Baron won’t let me go, especially not now after I’ve told him that I don’t feel well.

Everyone rises as I get up, waiting until I’ve said my goodnights before they sit back down. They treat me like royalty, but they don’t respect me. We’re all just part of an elaborate pantomime written by Baron.

I follow the guard through the familiar hallways, barely looking where I’m going.

I lock myself in my bedroom. It’s a false sense of security, but it makes me feel better. I awkwardly twist and turn in an attempt to undo the bodice of the dress, but as per usual the vampires tied the laces too tightly and I can’t get a grasp on them.

I give up, and fall face-first on the bed. “Let me help you with that,” a deep, dark voice whispers in my ear. Nimble fingers work their way down my back and undo the laces one by one.

I gasp and jump upright. The dress slips down my body and pools around my feet.

What the hell?

I look around my dimly lit room, but I’m completely alone.