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I maintain my silence.
“Tonight is a monumental occasion.” He twists the bottle opener into the cork. “Not only do we have our regularly scheduled family dinner—” He withdraws the cork with a pop. “—but today is also our anniversary.”
He means the anniversary of the day he betrayed me.
Before coming to America, I spent a few centuries bouncing around Europe, eastern Asia, and northern Africa with others like me. In the 1930s, I followed my bloodline all the way down and discovered I had descendants living in Virginia, at this very estate. I visited the property, claiming to be a distant cousin, and developed an affection for the place and the people living here. By the mid-seventies, I’d grown tired of wandering around the continent with no place to call home, and decided it was time to secure a permanent residence.
Katherine, one of my descendants, had long-since passed away, leaving her husband, John Greyson, and their daughter, Isabella, to manage the estate. Most of the family money was tied up in the land, and they were struggling to make ends meet.
I got it in my mind to purchase the estate as a home of sorts for myself, as well as the Greysons. I enlisted Edward Radcliff’s help in acquiring it, with the intention of making myself known to the family shortly after purchase.
Edward had worked with a vampire I was acquainted with on a similar project, so I thought I could trust him. I gave him my money. He purchased the property.
Then, he made me his blood mule.
Perhaps it was my own doing. Vampire blood has restorative properties for humans. In addition to being incredibly addictive, it can heal them almost instantly. It can make them faster, stronger, and more alert. If they drink enough over a long period of time, it’ll slow down the aging process, while clearing up scars and blemishes.
I allowed Edward a taste of my blood when he injured his ankle on the steps to his office. I didn’t want an injury getting in the way of the work he was doing for me. However, that one taste was enough to get him hooked.
He takes a long draw off the bottle of wine, then sighs with pleasure.
“God, that’s good stuff,” he says. He grabs the needle and tubing and begins feeling around the crook of my arm for a vein.
I remember when Chastity first taught him how to do this. Supposedly she used to work for the Red Cross. Now and then, when they can’t find a human to feed me, they’ll leave a pile of blood bags in the center of my cage. Bagged blood tastes about as good as you’d expect, but it does the trick.
I wince as the needle pierces my skin. Under normal circumstances, I would hardly feel it, but in my current state, every point of contact is a source of pain. He slips the tubing into the mouth of the bottle, sending my blood directly into the wine. I guess the usual drop they add to every bottle isn’t going to cut it for tonight’s festivities.
“I’d love to stay and chat,” he says, “but I’m late to meet my daughter.”
“Which one?” I ask through clenched teeth.
His arrogant expression falters. He doesn’t know I have the power to watch him and his family whenever I please, and it unsettles him to wonder where I get my information. He corks the bottle and rips the needle from my vein. Blood runs down my forearm to where the silver cuff has burned a wide, raw band into my wrist. It stings.
Edward swirls the bottle, mixing my blood into the wine as he studies me.
“I suppose it’s no secret that Isabella and I were involved,” he says. As part of the original purchase agreement, Edward offered John and Isabella the option to remain on their family’s land. In the guest house, of course. Chastity refused to live under the same roof asthe help.
Initially, I was perplexed as to why Edward would want them around after he’d assumed full ownership of the estate.
It didn’t take long for Edward to make his true desires known.
“You’re not exactly subtle,” I rasp.
He chuckles. “I imagine you could also hear Chastity shouting about it from all the way down here.”
“I hear you shouting,” I tell him. “I also hear you fucking. But I haven’t heard much from Chastity as of late. Are you neglecting your husbandly duties, Edward?”
He glowers, his gaze flitting to my cock. He hopes to humiliate me by denying me clothes, but when you’ve been alive as long as I have, you eventually lose all sense of shame—especially where modesty’s involved.
In the early days, before I became grotesque, Chastity would sneak down to the cellar to try and get me hard. He caught her blowing me once. Recalling the look on his face when he saw us has gotten me through some difficult times. He still gets jealous whenever I bring it up. However, it’s a fleeting satisfaction because Edward is at his most ruthless when provoked.
“We’ll try to keep it down tonight,” he says, “but no promises.” He squeezes the tube with my blood in it, sending deep-red droplets to puddle on the concrete.
The scent of hits my nose and my stomach spasms.
My fangs extend.
He locks my cage and then heads for the exterior door. At the last second, he hits the button to loosen my chains.
