#Chapter 3: The Sample Platter

Olivia’s POV

“May I have a moment to say goodbye to my family?” I asked. Keeping my head low and respectful, I hoped they wouldn’t think me being disrespectful and reject my request out of spite alone.

The King’s Voice stared at me blandly. “You have four minutes.”

Four minutes was too short to pack a bag, but it was long enough to turn and help Keri up to her feet. Her large doe eyes were filled with tears, but I didn’t think it was just her pain that had put them there.

“You can’t do this for me,” Keri said. “Please, Olivia. You don’t have to do this.”

“There’s no need for you to feel guilty,” I told her. “This is my choice, and it’s one I would make again and again.” While, within earshot of the vampires, I couldn’t tell her I was doing this to save her, I felt she knew that. I hoped the burden of her guilt would not be too heavy for her to endure.

She was strong, and that gave me comfort, as did the knowledge that I had now, that she would also be safe.

“Please take care of mother,” I said.

She blinked and her tears fell down her cheeks in fat globs. At once, she surged toward me and hugged me. I held her gently in return, careful of the open wound sliced across her back.

When Keri and I separated, Jacob was immediately there, frowning at me.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, hoping he would understand why I had to do this. “I hope I can depend on you to continue to take good care of yourself. And please look out for my family.” Even if he was furious at me for my decision, I hoped he would be understanding enough to continue to protect my mom and sister.

In a flash, Jacob rushed forward and pulled me into a tight hug. It wasn’t typical for us to show affection like this, and I had a jolt of fear that the vampires might see this as an overstep. I belonged to them now, after all.

But the vampires didn’t interfere. Perhaps they saw no need, because I was already collared. Aside from a hug, Jacob could do nothing to me.

In my ear, his voice as light as the air, he whispered, “I will save you.”

“Your time is up,” the King’s Voice said.

At once, I pushed away from Jacob, afraid to stay too closely, that he might be hurt. Despite the distance I put between us, a vampire guard still grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me to the other three girls.

Each of us, I noticed, wore a collar, though the other girls had different numbers than me. We weren’t even in sequence, which made me wonder if our numbers were given to us to replace the pets that had died.

That would explain why I was 12, Jeanette was 24, Rachel as 27, and McKenna was 94.

Gods, how many blood pets did they have in the castle?

The other girls had their bags, but I had nothing. Though that made my trip up the long winding road back to the vampire castle easier, I wished I had that weight to carry. With no clothes and no keepsakes to remind me of my family, I truly had no anchor to my past but my memories.

I hoped that would be enough.

As we neared the large black gate at the front of the castle, we were ushered into a group of other collared girls. These must have been the tributes from other towns, all gathered here as we were, like sheep about to be led to the slaughter. We were all silent, too afraid to speak to each other, but our fearful eyes told each other how we all were feelings.

The massive gates creaked open and we were led forward in a single line. It seemed as if we were being processed, with a vampire checking our numbers off a clipboard as we were led forward.

The next vampire held a knife. As each werewolf continue forward, a line was slashed across their arm. Some blood was drained down into a small bottle, then those bottles were labeled with the number corresponding to the werewolf cut.

My nerves prickled as I reached that part of the line. Unlike other werewolves whose wolves were present and could easily heal such a wound, I was considered wolfless. My wolf had not manifested, and possibly never would. As such, I healed much slower than the others of my kind.

A cut like this would drain me more than the rest, and would heal slower, eventually closing with a scar.

Knowing any word of worry that I voiced would only end potential punishment, I kept my mouth shut as I was pushed through the line. I winced as my arm was sliced, but tried to bite my tongue through the pain.

After, I was led to the others where we waited in a large room, just inside the castle. We hadn’t been led through the main entrance this time, but instead through a side passage.

There, I noticed some of the other tributes noticing my still-bleeding arm.

“Don’t tell me they brought in a wolfless,” sneered one of the other tributes. She was a woman with sharp features, the number 4 hanging around her neck. At her words, some of the others looked at me and smirked.

Despite the dire circumstances facing us all, it seemed there was still room for bullying here.

Number 4 grinned as I stood silently. I didn’t want any of them to see how nervous I was, or how much in pain I was.

“A defective product like you will become nothing but a ration for low-level vampires in the blood feast tonight,” she laughed. “I’m sure someone like you won’t survive.”

Damien’s POV

For the blood feast, all the local vampires were seated in the great hall of the vampire castle. The lesser vampires were down in the pit while the higher class vampires were at the back of the hall, sitting around Vampire King Henry on his throne.

I was off to the side a ways, still in a place of authority, but not at the same table as the King or the rest. I had my own place in the corner.

I preferred the anonymity of my place here. Many of the new vampires didn’t know who I was, but knew to be afraid of me – particularly because I was the first to taste from the tribute blood samples.

Sophia, the head vampire housekeeper, brought forward the blood samples on a tray.

This was a sign of respect to me, but otherwise pointless. Long ago I had stopped needing blood to survive. I was so very old, the oldest living vampire, and had evolved past the more primal needs of my juniors in the room.

Normally, I would wave the platter away and it would be delivered to Henry next.

This year however, after inhaling slightly, I froze before lifting my hand.

There was something about the blood in one of the cups that drew me in. I could not explain why, but I felt deep down into my core that I needed to taste it.

I motioned for Sophia to come closer. She seemed surprised by complied at once.

Right away, I reached for the specific glass that had called to me.

Lifting the glass to my lips, I swallowed down the blood.

Immediately I was filled with a sense of… nostalgia.

How could that be?

But more, as I drank from the glass, downing it entirely, I started to feel my long-dormant thirst return to me.

After drinking, I held the glass curiously in my hand, looking down at the few precious drops that remained inside.

To Sophia, I asked, “Whose blood is this?”