I’m selfish. Always have been.
By now, most vampires would have removed the sire bond, and let their progeny go nomad and find themselves. Maybe I’m sentimental, or maybe I’m so afraid of being alone that I can’t seem to let her go. I’m tethering Samantha to this life I built, one she never asked for.
She never outright asks me to break the bond either, and maybe that’s why I haven’t. Our relationship is truly a familial one. In some ways, she feels like my child and in others like a sibling I squabble with. Either way, she’s the only person I feel some sort of tenderness towards. Well, the only person I can openly have some degree of affection for.
The person I want to show my true affections for is the one I can’t have. If I have her, I’ll ruin her. Though it doesn’t stop me from meddling in her affairs or assuring that she doesn’t have romantic encounters with anyone else.
See? Selfish.
“We can’t leave, not until everything with Oz settles,” I lie.
There’s always some vampire who’s going to want what I have and willing to take it by any means. Then there are the other threats that have been nothing but a nuisance as of late. Like the vampire slayer that killed my sire. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mourn for a single second when I saw what was left of him. But having a slayer in town will cause nothing but mayhem. If other vampires in the nest go missing, we’re going to have a serious problem on our hands.
“I can’t believe a slayer took Oz out,” she says wistfully, sipping on her own crystal of blood.
“Me either,” I agree.
Oz was always larger than life, he seemed indestructible to me. He was also possessive, and ran the nest like a dictatorship. He’s the reason I never allowed myself anything good, knowing he would simply take it away to teach me a lesson. He’s only been dead for four days, but it’s been the greatest relief of mylife…except the fact that there’s now an active, strong vampire slayer on the loose. Oz was old and strong, if this slayer could take him out, there’s no telling what they’re capable of.
“If only we had…I don’t know a witch to help us with this little problem,” Samantha says, placing the bloodstained decanter on the table. “Oz is dead. You should go talk to her, go see her.”
I turn away, and she taps her nails against my desk.
“I know you’ve been sending Betty to spy on her.” I sharply turn to face her and she gives me a wicked smile. “Betty and Fitz talk. They’re little gossips.”
My phone rings and I answer it immediately, my glare not disappearing as I listen to the voice on the other end.
“Sir. Baptiste is dead, looks like another slaying, but didn’t catch the killer on tape, just a witch outside with him. How would you like to proceed?”
I groan. Fucking vampire slayers.
“Send me the footage,” I say, and my phone chimes. I pull it away and click on the video.
My heart stills when I seeher. Baptiste threads his hands in her hair and tugs her back. She has her hand on her wand, but doesn’t get a moment to use it as a stake flies right through Baptiste’s heart and he crumbles to the floor.
Baptiste should be grateful for that stake. How dare he touch her? He nearly fucking sunk his greedy, filthy fangs into her perfect, delicate throat.
“Retrieve the stake and the witch,” I reply.
“Sir.”
“Oh, and there is to be no harm done to the witch. If someone so much as looks thirsty around her, I’ll rip out their fangs.”
Conner clears his throat on the other end. “Yes, sir.”
“Bring her directly to my office, along with the stake.”
“Immediately, sir.”
I end the call and glance up at Samantha, who’s rolling her eyes.
“What?” I snap.
“I don’t want to speak out of turn and have my poor fangs ripped out,” she says, flicking her dark hair and placing a hand on her hip. “It wouldn’t happen to be a witch with perfect tits and big red hair, would it?”
“Her hair’s pink now,” I reply, looking back down at my phone and watching her fear-riddled face. She grabbed her wand at least, but she was no contender for the speed of a vampire. I need her to be able to protect herself better, what if one day I’m not around to do it?
If I had a heart, it would be pumping in my chest. This rage simmering inside of me is nearly boiling over at the thought of her being hurt. I’ve done my best over the last eight years to ensure her safety, that Oz never found out my little secret and how important she was to me.
