Chapter 34
Elina
Ilose track of the days and nights that pass.
Sleeping when they sleep, waking when they wake, I am fully immersed in Nicolas’s household.
The nights blur together, flashing between evenings of decadent parties and moonlit dinners, and those that are marked by blood dripping into floor drains and pain.
Two weeks at the mercy of Nicolas. I never know which version of him I will get. He has never laid a hand on me or hurt me, he reserves that for his henchmen. He uses control and manipulation to twist the knife of captivity deep inside me.
Last week, he brought me to him for another meal where he fed from and killed another person—a man this time. He overpowered him, pressing his flesh against the man, forcing a moan from his lips. I wasn’t able to tell if it was sensual or merely fear. It doesn't matter either way, the man died all the same.
On another evening, he sent someone to my room for a ‘donation’, where I was forced, under Marc’s watchful eye, tofill a bag with my blood. I, then, had to sit across from Nic as he sipped my warm blood from a wine glass. I was expected to not only sit there, but also to eat the bloody, rare steak that was served to me.
I currently sit, attired in my black, sheath dress and barefoot, waiting for the knock that will bring me to Nicolas for the evening. I know when I awake what sort of night to anticipate based on the clothing he provides. Cindy has taken all of my other clothes, piece-by-piece, over the last few days, until I have no choice but to wear what she brings. Tonight, a tight-fitting, silk, floor-length gown appeared in the wardrobe while I slept.
A party it is. Whether it’s the sort of party that involves me trying to placate Nicolas in private chambers, or the sort where I put on a show in front of the court, I do not yet know.
Not a single sound infiltrates my bedroom. It's a sensory deprivation chamber—I sit in complete silence.
A sharp knock on the door brings me to awareness. I know, based on the harshness of the sound, that Claudel has been sent to fetch me. There will be no allies, not even of the pseudo kind, tonight.
Standing, I approach the door just as he flings it open, the door knob banging into the wall, causing me to startle and flinch away from the jarring sound. Claudel wears a smug smile tonight as he takes in my outfit.
I am not provided with underclothes so my breasts are on display and I feel disgustingly exposed to his roving eyes. The expedited healing that has been developing also means that my skin does not betray the scars and bruises my soul bears from these weeks in prison.
“Prince Nicolas awaits.” His clipped tone, followed by his quick retreat, unnerves me as I rush to follow. The hallway outside my room is dimly lit this evening, and unusually cold. Icross my arms over my chest, rubbing them for warmth while trying to hide within myself.
I rush, on silent steps, behind his retreating figure. We make our way down the stairs into the courtyard where there is a party already underway. As we enter the open space, there are vampires everywhere. They hang over the balconies and are framed and backlit in the doorways. Sitting on the lounges and at the tables. Humans, carrying trays of wine glasses and blood, intermingle with the vamps—the occasional feeding happening against a wall, or in the cleared space meant to be a dance floor in the middle of the room.
I follow Claudel closely. I am in danger here. We approach Nicolas sitting in the large chair, with a high back, red velvet upholstery and a gilt inlay. We pause and Claudel bows deeply and I affect a curtsey. Nicolas smiles indulgently at me, love shining in his eyes. I smile in return, doing my best to inject it with happiness I do not feel.
“Attention! Attention, everyone!” Nicolas calls out to the room as he stands, raising a goblet of red liquid—I can not yet tell if it’s wine or blood. “My beautiful love, Elina, has arrived. Please all, pay her the deference she deserves.” A champagne glass is thrust into my hand and I am spun to face the crowd as they all lift their glasses in my direction.
“To Elina!” comes a chorus of cheers as I raise my glass in return, my cheeks pinking with embarrassment and anger at this display. The bubbles in my champagne tickle my nose as I take a sip, immediately being warmed by the alcohol. I would like something stronger, though, if I am to perform for the crowd. I know what Nicolas expects now, and disrespect and flippancy will only result in more pain.
Turning back to Nicolas, I peer at him and he is gracing me with one of his rare proud looks, as though I am playing my part so well he genuinely believes the show he is directing isreal. I stand in front of him, somewhat awkwardly, unsure of what I am to do now. I stare at him as he watches me.
“Sister!” I hear Genevieve at the exact moment she wraps her arms around me from behind, burying her face in my neck and inhaling deeply. “You smell lovely this evening.” I feel the tiniest scrape of her teeth against my throat as Nicolas hisses in his chair. “I was only smelling her, Nic. Calm down.”
“You aren’t feeding from her, have some respect.” He gives her a disdainful look. “Soon she will be a vampire and we can all share if you want.” He wears an indulgent smile at this thought, as though that is something I would be interested in. I know from Bash that blood sharing between vampire couples is used to deepen emotional and sensual connections, and is often a hallmark of sex between bound partners. Offering this…ritual to his sister leads me to believe my previous instincts about the unusual relationship they have may be close to correct. I do not respond to his leading statement.
He does not need me to participate in the conversation.
“Sit, my love.” He gestures to the stool next to his chair, low to the ground, at his feet. His casual use of the word ‘love’ as a term of endearment pisses me off, and I am further degraded by the subservient position at his feet. But I sit anyway. Sitting at his feet is the best case scenario in this situation.
Once I am uncomfortably perched, he rests a hand on the side of neck, a silent declaration of ownership to the room. A line of vampires begins to form in front of us. I watch, wearily. What is this party celebrating?
A tall, lean, dark skinned vampire, with even darker hair, is the first to approach. He drops to a single knee in front of Nicolas.
“Sire.” He addresses him with a light French lilt to the word. “I’ve come to report on the progress in Ville de Sang this week. We have recruited seven vampires who are unhappyunder their current leadership and want to join our army. I have provided a list to Jon.”
“Thank you. Please continue to swell our ranks.” Nicolas waves a hand in dismissal.
Next up is a short brunette wearing a red dress so tiny, I am unconvinced it is a dress at all. She also drops to the floor but on both knees this time. She widens her knees, sitting back on her heels. I look toward Nicolas and there is a pleased smile on his face as he watches her from his chair.
Leaning back slightly, she exposes herself to him, running her hands down her body provocatively.
