-Yours,
M.
Intrigued, I set the card aside and tug on the ribbon, shimmying the lid off of the box. My jaw drops at the sight of the red silk dress, and I’m honestly a bit nervous to touch it. It’s clearly not something they sell at the one-stop shopping center they had back in my hometown, and it hits me how even more out of place I am here. This is something someone like me would likely never even lay eyes on in her lifetime, yet here’s Malcolm, not even presenting it to me himself, like it’s no big deal.
I swear to the gods, if this is some weird supernatural mating ritual and tonight’s date is actually a surprise wedding, I’m shoving him through the nearest window.
At the top of the box, laid out above the dress in the soft tissue paper is another box, this one a sleek, matte black. Lifting the lid, in a nest of crimped strips of brown paper is a spa set, complete with a bath bomb, several bottles of various soaps, lotions, and oils. Biting my lip, I sigh in defeat. If thisisa trap? He picked the perfect way to lure me in. Back in my old apartment, there wasn’t even a bathtub, just a tiny shower stall and water that was hit or miss to make it past lukewarm. I may not be sold on the whole mate marking and cementing the bond thing Malcolm talks about, but I may consider it a little harder if he agrees that I get custody of his bathtub if we get divorced.
“You drive a hard bargain,” I relent, not that there’s anyone around to hear me.
While sometimes it’s hard to deal with the guilt I have in Malcolm’s presence, being alone while he’s at work is... difficult, sometimes. I only have me, myself, and I, and lately, I haven’t exactly been good company to be around.
Malcolm helped fill in the gaps where he could, thanks to his friend’s research, so at least I have awhythis happened to me now,even if the finer details of what exactly happened to me are murky. I was changed so some ancient asshole could feed off of me, extending his life. Feasting on humans? It’d keep him alive, longer than most people, but feasting on other vampires?
That fucker had been around since the initial shift in society, when a virus ran rampant and corrupted the change from those that should have become shifters, turning them into twisted monsters instead. While the rest of the world began to evolve to balance out the loss of predators, the original vampires devolved to keep them in check, discovering in their bloodthirsty carnage that they had the ability to change the humans that were unaffected by everything, and command them to a degree, turning humans into both predatorsandprey.
Why work harder when you could work smarter, after all? So they tucked themselves away, convincing themselves they were kings instead of rats, and sent their lemmings into the world to hunt on their behalf. And as the sacrificial lambs were slaughtered, they’d command them to create replacements to replenish the fallen numbers, ensuring the original wouldn’t starve to death, growing nearly blind after hundreds of years hidden underground.
Shaking off the depressing thoughts, I grab the bath kit and head for the bathroom. That line of thinking always makes me feel dirty and used, an invisible layer of psychological grime coating my skin until I’m tempted to tear it off. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I remind myself that I’m safe and sane; back in control of myself, and no one's going to take hold of my mind again and force me to do anything that I don’t want to. There’s no one here for me to hurt, either; Malcolm swears that nobody but him has access to the penthouse.
You’re trapped, idiot, it’s just a cleaner cage with some extra leg room. You’re completely at his mercy.
“That’s not true,” I whisper, watching the water fill the tub. “I know full well what the world’s like, and it’s not kind to vampires. I could leave if I was determined, but it’d be a death sentence. And if Malcolm actually wanted to hurt me, he’d have tried by now. There’s no one around to help me, and I’m a test to even a saint’s patience. He’s not like that, and I have no doubt that if I ever actually asked for something, he’d drop whatever he was doing to arrange it. He’s just... inherently good.”
Suddenly, I’m hit with a new wave of self-loathing. I’ve been so caught up in my mental spiraling, stressed out about the bond and acknowledging that there’s no reality that I can integrate back into society, that I haven’t even tried to get to know Malcolm. As soon as he comes home he asks about my day, if there’s anything I need, and at night, he tries to chase away my nightmares despite me pushing him away, but still, makes sure I never have to face them alone.
Why he wants a shitty, self-absorbed mate, is beyond me.
Filled with renewed conviction, I turn off the water to the massive clawfoot tub, heading to the counter to pick through the box. Two of the walls are made of floor to ceiling windows that let the afternoon sunlight stream in, but this high up, there’s no chance anyone could see in, and likely the glass is mirrored or tinted from the outside. One wall holds the toilet and counter, the other the shower. Everything is black, from the marbled tile, to the sleek onyx tub that has become my favorite place to kill time.
Adding a few of the soaps, I let the blackberry scent fill my senses and strip out of my clothes. Chucking in the bath bomb, I sink into the scalding hot water with a blissful sigh.
I’m going to do better. Not just for Malcolm, but for me. I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this, full of guilt and shame, lost and scared about everything. As I soak in luxury like I’ve never known, I cringe, sinking lower in the water. I don’t even know what Malcolmdoes.And seeing as I may very well never leave this apartment, forced to stare out the windows and watch the world pass by dozens of stories below, I need to give my cynical half credit for thinking practically. Malcolm’s my only lifeline, and I really am surviving on his mercy. While I despise the feeling of being so wholly dependent on someone, it’s not like I can go home, or even get a job anymore. Bloodlust aside, there’s a huge kill first and ask questions never policy where vampires are concerned outside of these walls.
We’re considered a mindless plague, no better than supernatural rats the rest of the world has to put down. Sure, we aren’t exactly human anymore, are still dangerous, especially the hungrier we get, but we’re stillpeople.There’s enough rage about humans considering shifters barely more than animals, killing them without any repercussions, that maybe there’s a chance we could appeal to them for support.
But it’s a long shot at best, and I’m not exactly capable of changing the world by myself, or good at convincing people they should care about anything other than themselves.
Ducking my head beneath the water, I drown my anxiety, deciding that I’ve had enough time to fall apart, and now I need to start putting myself back together. I survived being mauled, a year as a mindless killing machine, being tossed in a cage to starve, and strapped to a chair as mages drained my energy over and over again until I was begging for the sweet release of death. But rather than a grim reaper, the devil sent Malcolm to claim my soul.
It’s about time that I prove I was worth saving.
