Sweet Blooded

Fourteen: Dread

The nights became a whirlwind of numbness and dread. Where I had once felt I could tolerate this life, if only barely, I now felt like I was in hell. Since Ravena’s visit, I wasn’t left alone even once. One of the three vampires was always nearby, and it seemed that Gabriel was intending to slowly drain me of every last drop of blood over the course of days. I slept more than I was awake, and every moment that I was awake, I was filled with a suffocating dread.

I dreaded waking up to find my door open, a sign that he was already waiting for me.

I dreaded the moment Lukas or Markus would come to find me and bring me to him.

I dreaded the few nights where he came to me himself, yanking me out of the loving embrace of a book, back into the harsh reality that was my life.

I felt like a ghost, drifting from one room to the next most days. I must have made a particularly good ghost, because one night, I wandered into the study to find not Gabriel, but Talia, rummaging through the work on the eternally cluttered desk. Her small frame was bent only slightly, shuffling the papers all around, and quite frankly, making a mess.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here,” I called out to her.

She stood up quickly, placing the papers behind her back, making it obvious she had been trying to sneak around. She smiled wide when she saw it was me.

“Emily! I’m so glad I ran into you!”

I watched her warily, refusing to correct her. Something told me she’d said the wrong name on purpose. 

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I’m just looking for Gabriel, have you seen him?”

I shook my head. “No, not tonight.” Not yet…

She put her hands on her hips, looking around the study in disappointment.

“How do you keep getting in here?” I asked her, taking a step forward. “Where do you come from?” 

“From my rooms,” she waved her hand in the air. “The suite I stay in is a few doors closer to the stairs.”

I blinked at her. “And they let you just come and go?”

She nodded. And although she said yes, I had the feeling that wasn’t entirely true. Gabriel didn’t seem to like it when she showed up uninvited the last time.

“Why don’t you get him to...heal you…” I asked her, waving my own hand at the numerous bite marks and scars decorating her upper half. 

She whirled around. “Why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I countered, confused.

“You don’t know?” 

I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. 

“I’m not cattle,” she told me, the disdain in her tone had me taking a step back.

“Then what are you?”

“I belong to Sir Gabriel. He doesn’t heal my wounds because they’re his marks.”

“But you’re not cattle?” 

“I’m a consort.”

“A consort…” I’d read about consorts in my books, but she couldn’t possibly mean that she…

“Vampires are unable to reproduce on their own. They can turn humans, the way Sirs Lukas and Markus were made. But to be an Original, a vampire has to impregnate a human. Humans can birth Originals. And as a reward, they later on are turned into vampires themselves, and given freedom.”

“You… you sleep with Gabriel-”

“Sir Gabriel-”

“You sleep with HIM? In hopes to procreate? To create more vampires?”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied that I finally understood.

I just stared at her, hoping that the horror and disgust were plain on my face. “That’s heinous. That’s so gross. That’s so wrong. That is an absolute betrayal to the human race. Why would you subject yourself to that? Why would you want to be one of them?”

She sniffed at my question. “My father serves the throne. This is my purpose. My parents were breeders, and I was bred specifically for the king’s son.”

I stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t. She resumed her snooping through the various boxes and cases on the shelves.

“And then what?” I probed. “He didn’t want you so he gave you to Sir Gabriel?”

Talia froze, a small wooden box open in her hands, before she turned to peer at me, moving her head slowly. She said nothing, only stared at me. I could see the indecision in her eyes, and it occurred to me that she’d never spent so much time thinking in her life. But finally, a sadistic grin warped her normally pleasant features. She snapped the wooden box shut and set it back on the shelf-backwards, I noticed- before taking a few steps towards me.

“They may not have told you about me, but I heard loads about you,” she began. “Since the day you arrived, I have heard nothing but concern about the new pet.”

I bristled at her terminology, but couldn’t bring myself to correct her. How many times had I cursed myself for feeling like a pet in this ridiculous place. Talia continued her monologue, adapting an obviously fake, overdramatic, concerned expression.

“Oh, Sir Gabriel, the new pet is refusing to eat. The pet! She’s so withdrawn, she’s practically a walking corpse! Oh dear, the sweet thing tried to kill herself last night! I can’t come visit you Talia, I need to be there. I need to speak with her as soon as she wakes up! Oh Sir Gabriel! The pet is refusing food again! Please, leave Talia alone on Christmas and tend to her!”

I fell back into my chair, stunned at the hostility that such a nasally voice could produce. I wanted to be angry that they’d given her so many details about me, but her behavior was an unnerving distraction.

Talia dropped the fake concern and placed her hands firmly on her waist. “I see straight through it,” she hissed at me. “The damsel-in-distress act. The poor, pitiful me show. The vying for attention sh-...charade that you are putting the Prince through.”

The who now?

“And don’t you dare try and act like you don’t know who he is. Even cattle know who the royals are.”

My lips parted slightly. Of course, she misread my confusion and shock. She walked closer, stopping only feet away, and bent down to look me dead in the eyes.

“I’ve got my eye on you, Evelyn. And you’re not going to take the Prince from me.”

My eyes bulged and a sound so foreign it startled even me bubbled up from my throat. A laugh. My hand flew to cover my mouth in shock, but then I just giggled, before soon giving into the belly aching laughter. I bent over at the waist, trying to contain the noise as my shoulder shook violently.

Talia just stepped backward, sneering down at me in disgust. “You’re mad,” she muttered, before finally leaving the study, leaving me in peace.

My laughter didn’t die down until several minutes after the clack of her heels on the wooden floors disappeared down the hall and the front door shut with a snap. She hadn’t been wrong. I was mad. The laughter died down slowly, and I took several deep breaths before I noticed the tears that were leaving tracks down my cheeks. No sobs, no cries. Just tears.

It was just my luck. Lose my family, be handed over to the auction house, and land right back into the royal family’s lap.

Why had no one told me?