The Mafia Vampire's Mistress

Jesamen  Shivers rack my body with every shuddering breath in and out. My hands have long since lost all feeling, turning a shade of blue that matches the chill I feel deep in my bones. My knees scream, begging me to stand, to shift my position, to do anything other than remain in the subjugated, kneeling form I have held for hours. But I dare not move. I hardly dare to breathe- I value my life too much. Whispers echo around me, but the sounds are hard to identify with my head down, eyes locked on the intricate tiles of the floor before me. Is that footsteps? The swish of a cloak as it whips around a sharp corner? Is the drip…drip…drip… that filters in from a distant space the sounds of rain water coming in from an open window? A forgotten faucet left on? Or something far more sinister, like the blood drip…drip…dripping from their latest victim. The whispering echoes grew louder, more ominous, my heart racing in time with the panicked thoughts running through my mind. My breaths became shorter, my lungs gasping and desperate for air, the panic seizing hold of my mind. ‘Remember Rickie, remember the plan. If they wanted to take your life, they would have done so already. You’ll be fine, you’re fine…’ I chant in my head over and over, the repetition helping to ease my fear, stopping my panic attack from leaving me a sobbing and shaking mess on the floor. Finally, the echoes solidify into sounds- approaching footsteps, more than one if my ears are to be trusted. In this space, I’m not sure they can be. “Well, well, well…what treat have you brought me tonight, Amias?” The voice was old, ancient. The words held a sensual note that made me shiver, heat racing up my spine and dismissing the warnings of my heart as some long buried instinct whispered to run and hide, pleading with me to listen, desperate to convince me that I was in danger. “A cocktail waitress, newly hired to help us open The Inferno. I caught her asking around about you.” A softer, but no less beautiful, voice responded. ‘Amias’, I thought to myself, filing the name away in my mind. As a former foster child, collecting information at every opportunity was a habit that had followed me well into adulthood, and one I refused to break. Names were important, they held power- something that those who had once been powerless at any point of their life knew the true value of. “Tsk, tsk, tsk…that will not do,” the first voice says, his voice edged with anger, “and what reason could she have for using my name so freely?” “Money, sir…” “Money?” The first voice scoffs, “Humans these days. They care so little for their own lives, so quick to sell their precious seconds away from something as commonplace as money.” Something told me they had already had this conversation privately, behind closed doors, that they were simply repeating themselves now. ‘Apparently being old as f***k only serves to make you more dramatic,’ I thought, hiding my small eye roll with my bowed head, knowing such an outward sign of disrespect would have cost me more than my favor if they had seen it. In all likelihood, it would have cost me my life. “Please, ancient ones-” I whispered, trying to make my voice sound as meek and scared as possible. An easy task, given how afraid I was. “So…she is not only greedy and stupid. She is blatantly careless with her life,” the voice shouts, cutting me off, “not exactly the type of person we prefer to loan large sums of money to. Look at me, girl.” I bristled slightly at the condescending tone, having to remind myself that while I was 25 years old, an adult by human standards- to them, I was little more than a child. Rising to my feet as slowly and gracefully as I could, ignoring the throbbing pain in my knees, I lifted my head, laying my eyes on my host for the very first time. My eyes went to Amias first, his large, muscular form standing several steps closer to where I now stood, the message in his stance as clear as the one in his eyes- move, if you dare, and I will end your life. While his face was gorgeous, and free from any signs of age, it was nothing compared to the figure behind him. Seated on a raised stone throne, his posture impeccable yet still conveying a demeanor that was totally relaxed, at ease, unthreatened- was the most perfectly formed man I had ever seen before. But there was something off about his features, something I tried to pinpoint, yet it continued to escape me. How could something be too perfect, too beautiful, too- ‘Unnatural,’ I realized, and the whispered instinct that had begged me to run at the sounds of their voices became a shriek in my mind. ‘Prey…prey…we are its prey…’ it screamed, but I could not listen. I had come too far, and there was no promise that they would let me out of here alive if I tried to back out of this deal now. For the man whose eyes I now stared into, filled with a blackness that seemed to swallow me whole, was Ezra Carmine- head of an ancient and powerful family, well known in dark circles for their unwavering cruelty. He ruled with an iron fist, an undeniable and irrefutable control. It was said that even the laws of nature would bend to his will. Steeling my spine and swallowing my panic, I drew a deep breath in and then released it, pushing all of my fear and anxiety with it. A small smile graced his too full lips, his eyes darkening at whatever it was he saw in my face. “I believe there is a deal to be made here, Amias. See that it is done.”