“Yes! Hosts are approached to serve a Nest or individual. They are paid very well and get to live their lives comfortably,” the maidanswered.
“Why is it that I am here, then?” I watched the blond-haired maid seated neatly across from me.
“Unfortunately, that is something I cannot answer. Not due to any reluctance, but because I simply don’t know. It is unusual.”
She was nice enough to join me for meals when I requested her. They all seemed a bit ignorant to most of the happenings. It was like she was reciting from a guidebook on how to answer my particular queries.
“Why haven’t I seen anyone? It’s been a week.”
“We were told we are not allowed to let anyone see you while you heal and acclimate to the routine.” She sounded rehearsed.
I nodded in acknowledgment of her answer as if convinced.
“My appetite is no longer here. I am ready to go back.” I smiled at her, cupping the small cheese knife in my palm as I rested it on my lap.
Once I was escorted back to my room and the door was closed tight, I slipped the knife inside the pillowcase. It gave me some relief knowing I was not completely helpless, though I knew they were keeping me locked in here for my own safety and theirs.
From what I’d gathered from the maids, the Hosts and the Vipera were on strict schedules. They rang a dinner bell to indicate when they were allowed to feed on Hosts, and if even one was damaged, it could mean exile from the Nest or losing a finger or two, depending on the damage.
It made me feel better knowing that, while I was still a hostage, my title as a Host meant I was afforded some protections.
The edge from the venom I’d used on myself had long worn off, but it left me feeling like I was sinking into a void. My reliance on substances was not something I was forced to reckonwith until now. Life was extremely blunt when you did not use anything to soften the blow.
I threw myself on the bed and buried my face in the softness. A scream ripped through my throat, muffled by the lush pillow. All I could do was follow the routine, as simple as it was. I was confined by four walls for however many hours until the next time they fed me, bathed me, and repeat.
A sharp noise cracked through the air and jolted me awake.
“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Luka chirped.
With a screech, he dragged a wooden chair across the floor to the corner.
“You’re not supposed to be in here.” I sat up quickly. “I know you’re not allowed. The maids told me.”
“Is that right?” He did not pay me any attention as he examined the chair placement. In his hand was a thin braided riding crop. He swung it in an upward position, whistling as it cut through the air. He inspected the flat leather tab at the end.
“You can’t feed on me. You can’t even touch me without permission. I’m a Host now, correct? You’ll lose a finger.”
“And who do you think is the one in charge of taking fingers, hmm?” He turned on his heels to face me. I noticed his outfit was a bit equestrian as well. Tall, shiny leather riding boots with dark trousers and a loose shirt.
“Is this a ruse?”
“What makes you think this is a ruse? It’s time for a lesson.”
“Lesson?”
“Well, you were half right about being a Host. You’re also a hostage. A hostage that might need some... breaking.” He smirked.
“You’re sick. Why do you smile when you say it like that?”
“Because this will be more fun for me than it will be for you.”He moved over to the edge of the bed, his knee sinking into the mattress before he crawled slowly toward me.
“You’re a sadist.”
“You say that like it is something I should be ashamed of,” he said slowly. His movements stilled briefly before he lunged.
I whipped the blade out from under the pillow and cut him across his cheek as I stumbled to the other side of the bed.
He stilled, smoothing his finger over the fresh cut. Blood beaded in a neat line, and he inspected the fresh droplets on his hand. A slow grin crawled across his face before his eyes snapped at me, narrowing on their prey. “You are making all the most terrible,delightfuldecisions today.”
