‘Your cock’s OK ...’ I say, grasping it in one hand and leaning in closer to sniff his neck. I run my tongue along the line of his T-shirt, tasting the salt of his sweat. Adrenaline isnow coursing through his veins, and his thoughts are a mix of regret that he decided to show me his cock and wanting to strangle me with his bare fists. Gosh, what a caveman; must be all that hairy testosterone between his legs. I squeeze his dick hard in my fist, and a gurgle emits from his lips. ‘… But it’s definitely not the prettiest I’ve seen.’
Elliott’s cock is gorgeous. Smiling dreamily at a recent memory of being fucked senseless by my thrall and wanting all this Alexander hideousness to go away, I bare my fangs. Inching closer, I lean in and prick his smooth neck with the sharp tips. Lower down his throat, there’s not as much hair. But his beard is pretty bushy. Dark black like his pubes. A few beads of blood form on his neck; and I lap at them blissfully, unable to help sinking my fangs in deeper, angling for his jugular. The trucker moans in fear, but his cock is hard in my hand and oozing pre-cum. Ooh, he likes that, does he? I might give him a handjob while I’m feeding—
‘Sadie!’ Damian’s shocked voice rings out behind me.
Damn, he would choose now to take a piss.
‘Fuck off!’ I snarl, my lips and tongue coated in blood. ‘I’m feeding.’
A large hand grips my shoulder like a vice, and Damian says in a stern tone, ‘Back away from the trucker, Sadie.’
I shake my head and adjust my grip on the trucker’s slippery cock, keeping a tight hold of my prey. ‘No, he’smine. I found him first. You can’t have him.’
Hunger is warping my mind because I can’t satiate it. So I’m bloodlust babbling to Damian, like he’s a vampire, like he’s going to take my quarry. It’s a thing that happens sometimes if you’re not careful to keep up with regular feeds, though I can’t remember it happening to me like this for a while. My Elliott keeps me beautifully satisfied. Satisfied so I don’t create situations ... like this.
Damian keeps talking to me in a low steady voice, some nonsense about letting the dude go (as if!). But he does so warily, as if he knows I could just as easily turn around and launch at him. Slowly, his words—skipping like white smooth common-sense stones across the fiery red pool of my mind—sink in fully; and I release my grip on the trucker’s cock so it flops between his legs.
‘That’s good. Very good, Sadie. Now take a step backwards.’
Me (whimpering, my eyes fixed on the trucker’s neck):But. His. Lovely. Blood.
Damian:There’s plenty of blood waiting for you in the car. You can even feed from me a little if you like.
I perk up at that. Floss will really get her knickers in a twist if I feed from her boyfriend. It will be fun to rile her.
Me:Pinky promise?
Damian:Pinky promise. Now let him go.
With a grunt, I release the trucker from his position against the wall, and he falls to his knees with a gasp and bursts into tears of relief.
Damian grabs my hand and quickly hauls me out of the bathroom. ‘You need to memory-wipe him asap!’
‘Of course!’ I scoff. ‘Though you should have zipped up his jeans. He’s going to wonder why he’s on his knees, sobbing with his dick out.’
Chapter 14
Elliott | Highlands, present day
Everything aches. After a dreamless doze, I awake in gloom, sprawled on hard slabs. Groggily, my eyes lift to the small barred window high above my head letting in a smidgeon of light. From where I’m lying, I can see the outlines of rough-hewn walls. The space isn’t large, but it’s compact and empty apart from me. I’m in a dim stone chamber. A dungeon cell. The ground is strewn with straw, but the cold still seeps through my hips and butt. Shivering, I shift position and become aware of a heavy weight on my left arm. An iron shackle is clipped tightly around my wrist. Fuck, seriously? I mean, is that really necessary?
I yank at the short chain that’s attached to the wall behind me and call out weakly for help. No one comes, and I lie back, feeling exhausted even from that short burst of activity. I’m determined not to give in to my fear, but it’s difficult not to. What does Alexander want from me? It can’t be simply that he’s hungry, or he would have drainedme. There must be another reason ...
Fuck, I’m going to die in this pit, and I’ll never see Sadie again.Why the hell didn’t she turn me? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself for the last forty years.
I try to feel annoyed at her, but I can’t. It’s not her fault that Alexander’s kidnapped me. I mean Sadie’s done her best over the last century to help Floss and Hester evade this dickwad. But if I were a vampire, things might be different. I might have been able to fight him off or, if not that, at least communicate with her. I try yelling at her in my mind that I’m alive, but there’s no reply. I don’t expect one since we can’t speak to each other telepathically. And what use is it anyway if I don’t even know where I am?
The memory of Sadie’s terrified face floats into my mind as I was dragged kicking and screaming from her bed. Thankfully, I was fully clothed in a T-shirt, jeans, and trainers. I shudder to think what would have happened if things had been further along when Alexander strolled in. It would’ve been a case of lying in the back seat of his car butt naked. I was barely conscious and weak after Alexander dragged me in there and continued sucking on my neck from the holes he’d opened in Sadie’s bedroom. After that, he hopped in the driver’s seat and took off. I must’ve passed out, but I came to briefly when he was driving along some motorway. Alexander had switched on the radio and wasflipping around the stations. He settled on a U2 song and sang along loudly with Bono about still not finding what he was looking for—making me wince and wish I had earplugs. He truly is a crap singer. I hope he doesn’t frequent any karaoke bars. He’d be booed off the stage.
The hinges of the iron-studded door in the corner of the room creak; and I tense, struggling upright, straining to see in the dim light.
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
Tentative footsteps ensue, and a young woman in her twenties shuffles into the room with a tray of food. I sigh in relief. Thank God, another person and something to eat at last! But as the woman inches closer, I get a shock. She’s a walking corpse. Her long shoulder-length brown hair is lank and tangled and frames a thin pale face, large haunted eyes, and hollow cheeks. What’s even more disturbing is that she’s wearing a saucy French maid’s outfit: a short ruffled black silk dress with a low-cut neckline. Not that she has any breasts to speak of—her body is skin and bones. Her bare feet scuff along the straw, and they’re filthy.
The young woman bends, knees creaking, and deposits the tray wordlessly next to me. Close enough that I can reach it, but not so close that I can grab her. ‘Thanks,’ I say, but she doesn’t reply. I look up at her, attempting to make some sort of eye contact. But her grey eyes are glazed over.Great, she’s completely in thrall to Alexander, which explains a lot. I spot two blood-encrusted wounds on her neck where he’s been feeding. I feel like showing her mine.Look, matchy-matchy.
She shuffles back over to the door. I think that’s it for her visit, but then she’s back again, with a wooden bucket dangling from her fingers. This is placed next to the tray, I assume for my ‘ablutions’.Shitting in a bucket and having to lie next to it. Great, just how I like to spend my dungeon day.
