I’ve been claimed. Owned.
Turned.
Against my will.
And he’s my master. In every true sense of the word.
He controls me.
So if he touches me now, will he be the one making my heartbeat skip because he’s manipulating me?
Am I just a thing he can control like a finely tuned instrument?
If he wants to fuck me again, is my response something that’s now tailored tohisurges and needs? And if I like it, is that because I do, or because he silently dictates it?
Even worse, was he doing that to me before he claimed my life as his?
I don’t know. That’s the thing, I don’t fucking know.
The panic is like a flock of birds, rising up, threatening to choke me. But I try to get it in control. I believe Lucian when he says the power of his blood can overwhelm me. I just can’t let it.
“I can control it,” I whisper, pushing up from the ground. “I’m still me.”
There’s nothing to be scared of, apart from the sun and wooden stakes.
Garlic?
But Lucian’s not worried about the sun. He keeps away from it when he can, and we’ve been out during the daylight hours. So maybe…
I eye the door. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. Long enough that I slept at some point and someone put what looks like protein bars on the floor.
My stomach doesn’t growl, but it’s like a wild animal that paces inside me, looking to take over, wanting to pounce. I cross and pick up one of the bars.
It’s a brand I’ve never seen.
VMR X Protein.There’s no picture or exciting graphics, just red letters on a black foil wrap. I turn it over. No ingredient list. Obviously proprietary.
How richishe?
It’s a stupid question.
Lucian Vale has had lifetimes to grow rich by anyone’s means. He’s ruthless enough to get richer by more nefarious means as well, and smart enough to turn all that into something which would make millionaires cry.
He’s built the perfect vessel for a soft takeover of America and a lot of the world. The mecca of media.
VMR.
And pre-dying, pre-being reborn, I could have blown it all open and destroyed him in an exposé for the ages.
Now…
Now I can’t do that.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Notcan’t. Just can’tyet. There is a difference.
I curl my hand around the protein bar and squeeze. It compacts and pushes through the packaging at either end.
The stench of the bar hits me hard. It’s the smell of old blood. Vile. I throw it against the wall, but the stench still stings.
