Also included was a list of the foods she couldn’t eat, the security rules she was expected to follow — and the fines she’d face if she broke the rules, which took her back to the risk of being a fucking indentured servant. Aslave. And yeah, a slave with an end date, but still. No hard limits, no say at all in how her days went or what she could be required to do.Or in what could be done to her.
She’d have liked to think her father wouldn’t let that happen, but he was pretty upset with her.
“Where’s Zander?” she asked. She’d expected him to handle her intake.
“Busy.”
She wanted to ask if he still cared for her, or if this was just a favor he was doing for her parents, but she was afraid to hear the answer. Once upon a time, he’d been the neighbor who’d snuck her special treats, and had always answered her questions. And yeah, he’d returned her home when she’d snuck out of the house and he found her, but he’d been kind when he’d done so.
And that was a big part of why she’d agreed to come here. Also, she’d found ways to make money, but she didn’tfeel good about any of them. Hacking someone’s bank account was a shit thing to do, even if the bitch deserved it for tattling and getting her kicked out of yetanothercollege. And yeah, some rich men were easily manipulated into buying her whatever she wanted just for fucking them and pretending to love them, but she didn’t much respect herself for that, and she sure as fuck didn’t respect a man who’d let her use him.
So, she grew a claw on her right pointer finger, poked the side of her left thumb, held the steel nib to the bubble of blood, and signed her name to the damned contract.
Spence reached out, touched her thumb, brought the blood to his mouth, and licked it. He pressed a claw into his finger, waited for blood to well, and held it up.
She licked his finger and let the blood soak into her tongue.
“Say the words,” Spence said.
She read them from the bottom of the contract. “Upon my oath, I vow my loyalty to Zander and the coterie, with full understanding of the rules and expectations.”
The oath clicked in her soul, and she breathed through it.
“I carry Zander’s power,” Spence told her. “Saying the blood oath to me is the same as doing so with him.”
Spence blew on the final page to dry her signature, and then walked to a copier, ran the contract through it, and asked for her email address, which he punched into the machine.
He handed her the copy it spit out and said, “You’ll also have a pdf in your email inbox.” He stepped toward the door. “I need your phone. I’ll walk you to your room before I take it to our tech guy, and he’ll bring it back to you. Usually takes him five or ten minutes. You’re assigned to Byron on the rotation tonight. He’ll text you when he’s ready for you, and you’ll need to be on the fucking station within ten minutes of his text. Some vampires will call you to their room, others prefer the old ways. You’ll find instructions for how to present on the fucking station in the notebook on the desk in your room. You’re not going to want to skip lubing your asshole with Byron.”
Chapter 2
Her room was basic, but the view was nice. A bathroom was between her and the room next door, so she’d have to share it, but at least it wasn’t down the hallway shared by a dozen or more people.
She didn’t recognize the scent in the bathroom. Prey for sure, some fear, but a musk she’d never scented before. Lots of orgasms, but not a rabbit. Wilder than rabbit. Still, the scent wasn’t terribly far off, but something that lived in fields rather than burrows.
The instructions for prepping to feed a vampire were simple enough. Lube your holes, report to the assigned room, undress completely, and fold or hang your clothes in the armoire. Bend over the first steel bar and stretch your arms out to grasp the one several feet in front of you, and then wait while bent over. Do not stand. Do not move. When the vampire arrives, do not look back — stare at the floorbeneath your face. Answer whether you wish for the bite to give pain or pleasure. When the vampire finishes, he or she will redress before leaving. Do not move from the feeding station until the vampire has left the room. Do not attempt conversation. If they ask a question, answer it, but do not speak unless asked a direct question.
A vampire returned her phone and explained the apps he’d installed. She figured he’d put a tracker in while he had it, but didn’t bother looking for it. She also had the numbers of the vampires she’d be feeding, so she’d know who they were when they texted her.
There was also an entry for her assigned security person, which would apparently change automatically depending on who was assigned to her on any given day. Her contract stated she’d have a guard anytime she left the property.
The good news was there was no need for her own car because she’d be driven everywhere. The downside? She’d have a fucking chaperone everywhere she went. It was couched insecurity requirements, but she understood she was going to be watched and monitored.
When the text from Byron came, it just gave a room number. Nothing else. She followed the directions Spence had given her, going through a hidden, locked door in the pantry that opened with her palmprint and a code, and then took the second door on the right, labeled F3, which might mean feeding room three, or fucking room three.
No silk sheets, no candles. Not even a bed or a bondage table. Just a small, harsh room big enough for afeeding/fucking station, an armoire, and a few people. The feeding station was brutal in its simplicity — a steel bar at waist height to lean over, and another positioned a few feet in front of you to grab. No music, nothing soft. Just concrete walls and a drain in the floor.
And a bottle of lube in the armoire when she opened it to put her clothes inside.
She’d worn slides and a dress to simplify the process. She hung the dress, settled the shoes inside, squirted lube into her left hand, and reached back to work it inside her ass with clinical efficiency.
Whoever stepped behind her had the right to choose, and she wasn’t about to let her first fuck in Alaska be a dry, tearing mess. She enjoyed anal when she was horny, but she wasn’t sure arousal would be part of the equation.
She used her right hand to put some around the mouth of her pussy, and then used a provided baby wipe to clean her hands.
And then walked to the two bars and stared at them. Finally, she leaned over the first, and had to stretch uncomfortably to reach the second. Spacers forced her hands only a few inches apart, so her face nestled into her arms, her nose clear so she could easily breathe.
Fuck, but she understood the position more than she wanted to — spine stretched to lengthen her torso, and when she looked at the floor, her arms held her head to stabilize her neck just right for the bloodsucker to bite the side of it.
