I’m supposed to have rights.
Funny, but sitting in my cell, it doesn’t feel like it.
Yeah, so maybe I killed a few vampires, but they got what they deserved.
Somehow, I don’t think anyone else will agree.
I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that they don’t believe me and haven’t killed me outright. I don’t want to be a vampire, and I shudder at the thought of feeding from humans. My stomach lurches alarmingly, and I have to swallow the bile trying to climb up my throat.
I’m a pathetic excuse for a vampire.
Because I can’t do it.
I can’t feed from humans.
I’d rather be dead.
I begged the four men to kill me. Instead, they showed me kindness I haven’t experienced since I was a child. They pulled me out of that hellhole, gave me blood, and cleaned me up.
I should’ve known their mercy was too good to be true.
My rescuers have become my new captors, and I very much fear my situation has gone from bad to worse. I peer at the two wolves curiously, never having dealt directly with their species. They mostly keep to the country, and I’ve never ventured far from the city. People like me, those not promised to a vampire house, aren’t given many privileges.
They restrict our travel to keep us caged and prevent us from rebelling, our money used for living expenses and protection. The smallest infractions are considered violations, and we’re severely fined…or eaten.
It’s a way for them to force us to comply, force us to pledge our blood to them.
I’ve never liked bullies and refused to do what they want.
My body.
My blood.
My choice.
My defiance made me a target.
From the day I was born, I lived in one cage or another.
I just want to be free, and that’s what I tell them. “Just let me go. I’m not a threat.”
I cringe when the attention of all four men lands on me like a ton of bricks. I don’t like that I know so very little about them. Heck, I can’t even read their emotions.
The big Viking grunts, casting me a dubious look, and I struggle not to cringe.
It’s nottechnicallya lie.
As long as they leave me alone, I have no intention of harming them.
I can’t say it will remain that way if they keep me prisoner.
The other wolf, who resembles some sort of dark barbarian from a time long gone, releases an anxious whine from the back of his throat. I’m not sure if it’s the thought of me being held against my will, or being set free and not under his control, that upsets him most.
Before anyone can comment, the immaculately dressed vampire steps forward. The darkness in me stills at his approach, and I study him curiously. I wait for my hackles to rise, wait for the urge to tear out his throat to take over, but it never comes.
More worrisome, a little hum vibrates in my chest. I look down at it in alarm, clutching a hand between my breasts, and I realize that I’m…purring. I glance back up at the vampire and snarl, “What the fuck did you do to me?”
He stumbles back, clutching his own chest, and I’d swear he appears just as shaken, no longer so unaffected. “That’s impossible.”
