337 Years Ago

Opsona Village: Fisargo Clan

Tentusa Valley

Screams echoed through the misty hills that littered the western ridge. Screams of mothers watching their children's last breaths. Screams of fathers unable to protect their homes. Screams pleading to the gods to stop the devils raining their destruction down upon them. Anything. Everything was yelled out into the hopeless night to stop the senseless killing. Fires burned rooftops, shadows stalked the hysterical, and people disappeared into the darkness never to be seen again. Their hoarse garbled wails evidence to violence only shadows could witness.

The final echoes of a once proud race were gone in a matter of bloody seconds, and me huddled in the corner of what was once my village. I made witness to the unfathomable power of the Vamdari; evil creatures that not even the gods' wrath could halt that night. Images of blood and death were burned into my twelve-year-old mind, and yet they were shadows. Fuzzy memories reflected against a sandy surface, too fragile to be touched but there all the same.

Shadows of that night haunt my mind. Each time I reach out to grasp them the sand beneath shifts through my fingers and the memories fade, slipping through my mind's iron grasp like taunting black illusions from a distance life. How I wished to remember it all, to reawaken that pain I felt as a young girl. I needed those memories… Those awful feelings. Anything that might cause me to hate. Just a single bubble of some strong emotion for me to break free of his grasp. Something to block out his enchanting voice that echoed in the back of my conscience every second of my immortality, “Say the words, Serenity." My name rolled off his tongue in the depths of my mental walls with a certain seduction that made me shiver with anticipation. "Give into me my child. End your needless suffering, say the words. Free yourself...love me.” His voice repeated over and over, trying to wear me down.

How do you grasp a shadow on sand? How tight must my grip be? I need to know. I need to save myself. I need to break free... I need to save them... I need to save…Him.

Present

Tentusa Valley

Vrasum Province

Thick black clouds carried along the lake's breeze greeted us as we stood above the small valley, looking down on the next in the long line of unfortunate cities. Another part of the larger conquest to reclaim the mortal plane for the once powerful Vampire Nation, and aid in my master's growing status among the lords. His wrath would consume this land just like the storm rushing in from the water's edge, welcoming us and our darkness to the land of milk and honey. A natural reaction to our unnatural presence. Perfection now infected with our wrongness, our disease of death. If the people of Tentusa were smart they would spot our silhouettes against the setting sun, close the gates, and raise the flag of war.

They wouldn't. No one ever did. My master was so cunning and he had me, his faithful yet reluctant servant that would do anything for him. Not because I adore him, admire him, or even fear him, but because my mind would allow me to do nothing more. This white stone city that glowed against the darkening clouds would have to fall because of what I lack. It would crumble like the many that had come before it, shift into rubble slowly, painfully until my master could lay complete claim to it.

This mortal world was two steps out of the Great Dark-Age that had left it in disarray. Advancements in magical combat, weaponry, and the way of living had halted a decade ago when war spread across the lands. Each province engaged in battle that was antagonized by a warlord demon. This plane that existed in neutral space between the territory of the Underworld and the Ethereal planes of the divine was coveted. The mortals would know their dark ages as war times, of senseless killing in the name of some great leader or king. In reality it was the will of darker creatures to take control of their world in the hopes of infecting the unreachable spaces of the heavens just beyond. These years following that time were to be golden and peaceful, full of thriving advancements and intellectual growth, but instead our darkness was creeping through the fractured boundaries between the planes the wars had caused. Allowing our nation new opportunities to take control of this mortal world.

“Drink,” my master whispered against my ear. His closeness was not required, with my senses I could hear that whisper from the next world yet he demanded the close contact.

A scent of bitterly sweet vanilla passed on the breeze mixed with a faint iron note. Blood, his blood. The crimson gift he only gave to his most trusted and loyal minions. What they didn't know, his loyal subjects, was that it enabled his complete control of them. Though Vondorian, Lord of the warrior elite vampires known as the Vamdari, had no need to control his subjects. They all adored him, worshipped him, and in some cases lusted for even a single glance of their admired Lord. Except me.

“Drink!” he growled, this time sending his voice ringing through my sensitive ears. His perfectly tanned wrist flew into view, bright red liquid oozing out of the gash he had created in otherwise flawless skin.

“I don't need it.” My reply was disobedient, filled with edge as my fangs ached under my gums. My body so aware of his firm chest just inches from my back, the long unruly strands of raven-colored hair that dangled free down the length of my back danced against the sublet breeze. Moving between my master's toned, sinful body and the smaller curved female frame that crafted mine. I heard him inhale as the breeze brushed through my hair again, and that bitterly sweet scent of his assaulted me with a hunger and need for his blood, his touch.

Thick strong fingers laced into my long black hair, the touch so soft before the grip tightened on the strands, yanking my head back. The harsh way he commanded my body had ignited desire that hardened my nipples and caused an ache for more sensual violence.

“I will not have you faltering,” he hissed. “I know the draw this land has on you, and I will not compete for your loyalty.”

Master knew me well, so much better than I could ever understand myself. This place was once my home, a place I had swore to protect even as an innocent child. Our travels had taken us up from the southwest across the snowcapped mountains that divided Tentusa from the rest of the kingdom. A familiar sense of home had overtaken me once we descended into the lush valley littered with farms that eased into large rolling hills of tall lemon grass, before dipping down into the valley before us where Tentusa nestled against the vast lake of Rouren. In my former life the temple that lay in the city walls was my whole world. This land wedged in the northern part of the kingdom was—is—sacred ground. Gods and goddesses placed their feet upon these grassy fields and some considered it the looking glass of the heavenly world, a reflection that joined the mortal plane to that of higher beings. Whatever this place actually was Master was right, it did have a draw for me.

“Now drink before I make you!”

He jerked my head back even more ripping at the strands of hair he tangled among his relentless fingers. To lose a handful of hair was nothing, but the allure of his blood and the tantalizing pain I could not ignore. Not with his scent so strong, my need so great, and my fangs burning inside my mouth. His wrist didn't make it to my lips before I latched on, sweet bitter vanilla exploded in my mouth. Every natural and unnatural sense in my body sparked to life, need pooling in my core for more of him. More of everything he could offer. His voice pierced through my mental walls whispering to me seductive promises as I feasted on his immortal power.

This was my undoing. With Vondorian's blood coursing through my body I would not be able to refuse him. It was the collar around my neck labeling me as his and his alone. His life force made my senses strong, but it made my will weak.

His grip in my hair eased until his fingers traced through the long raven strands, smoothing out the damage he had done. As if the gesture could right every wrong he had ever done to me. An involuntary moan escaped my lips as I suckled at his flesh.

“That's my girl,” he whispered aloud instead of inside my weakening mind.

This is the last time.

I lied to myself like I did every time he forced his blood on me. I couldn't stop the creature inside me, the thing he had put there, from craving him.

The satin of my hair brushed against the exposed crook of my neck offering it to the coming night. Cool chilling lips pressed against the warmed skin sending a thrill through my body, causing it to respond in a way I couldn’t allow. My fangs retracted and I ripped from his grasp nearly stumbling to my knees, dizzy from his intoxicating power.

“One day,” he warned from behind my trembling body. “One day you will no longer have the will to fight me.” I could sense his smirk, that evil one he gave when he knew it all came down to the passage of time. Vampires as old as him knew the value of patience. He could wait centuries. Could my will last that long?

Lightening broke the coming darkness of night, thunder followed. Small droplets of rain cooled my heated body that coursed with the vampire lord's blood, bonding me to him. The gods' protest had begun.

Violent wind seeped through the cracks in weakened wood tickling the flames of each candle that lit the small room, tucked away in the abandoned house nestled behind one of the rolling hills that shielded us from the main city. Fierce unforgiving fire forced to dance against its will or risk the end of its life. How fitting. I watched the candle light struggle for survival. Once Vondorian returned, the young blond beauty lying in the old dusty bed would be doing the very same thing. Dancing to my master's illusion of love, passion, or whatever emotion his seduction would implant in her mind. He was the conductor, she would dance, and I would play the tune of destruction. His own private instrument of chaos. There was a time I might have been proud of that, rejoiced in the defeat of a mortal’s life. I would even take pleasure in it, now it was just a forced burden.

Her rosemary scent assaulted my heightened senses with relentless nausea. How could anyone stand that smell? She reeked of scented oils and imported perfumes. I would expect no less from the Lord's only child. No doubt his most cherished possession and I stole her.

“Pleased with yourself?” the smooth seductive voice of my master whispered from behind me. I couldn't help the pleased smile that spread across my lips, delighted that I had done his bidding and returned with his prize. Inwardly my conscience screamed at me, yelled to regain control knowing this was all wrong, but the pounding of his blood in my veins was too loud.

Turning, I longed to see his crimson eyes flutter with delight at what I had accomplished. His ice-cold grip was on my throat before I could catch sight of him, his nails digging at the back of my neck. A growl rushed out of my body as my back slammed against the wall. Instinct kicked in as I clawed at the arm that pinned me. The candlelight danced off his angled features, every curve of his alluring face caressed by violent flickering light. There was no delight in his eyes, the crimson glowed with fury.

“You disappoint, Serenity,” he growled my name baring long white fangs. “I told you to retrieve the girl, not cause a scene.”

His grip tightened against my throat cutting off my airway. Panic set in as I kicked in his direction, clawing at his arm for some form of release. The weak wood beneath my feet vanished, the bitter scent of vanilla overpowered that of the nauseating rosemary. Angry words flew from Master's full sinful lips, filling my blood with pure lust mixed with the panicked fear of oncoming suffocation. His voice was sharp words that I couldn't make out over the rapid panicked beat of my own terrified heart. He always appeared as a refined man, clothed in the finest attire that purposely pulled taunt across his firm youthful body. Accenting every fine detail that crafted this perfect devil, he never appeared older than his late twenties, but whispers said Vondorian had lived long before the current millennia. His long silky, silver hair was gathered into a ponytail, the color one he chose, which left me to question his appearance. Was this the vampire lord's real form, or just more glamoured magic to distort reality? The silver hue of his hair was a stark contrast to his deep rich sun-kissed complexion, and those dark crimson eyes that told the story of centuries.

Vondorian always towered over everyone in a room even if his six-foot frame fell short of another. That was the power he radiated. By stance alone my master gave off intimidation, but his mannerisms were gentle and graceful… A perfect gentleman. Mortals never saw this, his true nature before it could do them any good. His beautiful alluring violence that had my body aflame in the spinning darkness as my airway crushed under his iron cold grasp.

The world blurred, candlelight faded, even the howl of the violent wind couldn't pierce my darkening senses. A sensation of sailing filled my gut and then abruptly ceased with a harsh jerk as my body crashed into something that cracked and shattered. Splintered wood provided a resting place for my discarded form, panting for air I tried to gain some ground grasping onto the splinters beneath me. I welcomed the feeling as wood shards pierced my hand, bringing searing pain that focused my scattered nerves. It felt like hours had passed before my senses sharpened, adjusting to the dizzying spin of my head, when in reality this whole scene took place in a matter of breathless seconds. My own sage scent mixed with the vanilla, I could sense him now. Feel those soundless steps as he raced toward me for another attack. Even dulled to the point of vulnerability I could sense him, I didn't need my sight or hearing to warn me of his dominating presence. I felt him like a mother's instinct for their endangered child. Like a twin feeling the suffering of their other half, he was a part of me.

Kicking my right leg out it connected with something firm, a growl filled the room and I knew I had struck him. “There was a complication!” I yelled, finally able to open my eyes and see more than just blackness. My senses seemed sharper after the initial attack, drawn into fine focus by the creature inside insistent on living. I rushed his stumbling form, a foolish and inexperienced move but I had to show him I wasn't afraid. Slamming into his body we tumbled onto the floor and out of the room that held his sleeping prize.

“Your skills are slipping,” he argued back grasping at my wrists while trying to pin me to the ground. “You need more training. Every home is whispering about the abducted girl!”

“My skills are fine,” my reply short and sharp as I rolled us again.

He had ordered me hours ago to sneak into the manor that sat on the eastern edge of Tentusa and steal away Lord Davros's daughter. She was our means of entering into the Lord's home, everything rested on the unknown abduction of this young woman. Even as my mortal voice argued, howled, and pleaded with me to not follow his orders, my mind was completely under his bidding. So I took her, but I had made sure everyone knew she was missing. Master was right. After nearly three centuries of faithful master-servant relationship he was competing for my loyalty. Even with his blood coursing through my veins, being home made my defiant voice louder.

We rolled again and I was pinned, hands above my head, legs tucked under Master's and his weight baring down on me. His eyes flashed with lust, he loved these battles as much as he loved to control me. He delighted in my rebellious nature, my ability to say no to him even after my will had been weakened to the point of breaking.

“You. Are. Weak!” His words held a suggestion amidst a challenging tone that pulled at my inner creature. His body weighing down on top of me sparked a warmth within my core and I bit down on my tongue. Rich metallic notes rushed down my throat as I dug my fangs deeper into the meat. I needed the pain to focus. I couldn't get caught up in him.

He leaned down farther brushing those chilling soft lips against mine, I wanted to feel them. Images of what they could do to me flashed in my head. Promises he had once spoke aloud now held form inside my wildest imagination as he again invaded my mental walls, calling, tempting, seducing my every sense. I pressed my fangs down harder piercing completely through my tongue to regain control once again. I threw my midsection into the air arching my back, and sending us into another tumble along the splintered floor that creaked under our struggling bodies. This time I was on top. My nails dug into his wrists pinning them to the floor as I sat on his chest, bearing all my weight down on his unworldly strong form. It was a laughable sight, me with my average height and slight athletic build forcing myself down on a man twice my size.

“I am not weak!” I growled down at him. I tried to show anger in my eyes, but I knew they were too revealing by the way he grinned at me. My creature lusted for him the way he lusted for me. “I have this under control!"

“I highly doubt that,” he answered back. It was a challenge for redemption and a chance for him to prolong this battle. He enjoyed me here holding him down. He was allowing it, I knew my master too well. There was nothing stopping him from rolling us again even with all my immortal strength I could never subdue him. My suspicions were confirmed by the whirls of spiraling need that flexed in his eyes. A trickle of blood fell from the corner of my mouth, his eyes tracked the motion of the droplet that landed on his bottom lip. With a slow luxurious lap of his taunting tongue he collected the drop of crimson. A sensual whisper of a moan escaped his parted lips. "You're injured. Open your mouth."

"It has already healed," I replied.

"But I want to taste more."

Ignoring the intense heat of his gaze and the sexual ache his statement put inside of me, I explained my solution, “The rouges that live on the north island, they have a long running conflict with the Lord of Tentusa.” The plan for framing the rouges poured from my mouth like a general giving strategy to his king. I had to keep it professional.

“You attacked a young knight, battled with a handful of guards. How will they ever believe the rouges took her?” he asked, I sat there trying to find a response to assure him of my plan's success. Lost in thought I didn't notice one of his hands had left my grasp. His thumb glided along my lips tugging slightly to gain entry. I jerked back from his advances, but Vondorian's hand grasped the back of my neck and forced my face toward his, " I told you to open that beautiful mouth of yours."

My focus gone, fleeting with his suggestive motion. I wanted to pull away but I didn't get the chance. Master forced my lips against his hungry tongue, thrusting it into my mouth lapping up every bit of blood that lingered. I should have jumped off him, fled, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I had to prove that my will was stronger than his seduction. A mistake. My body began to shake from his hungry assault. I tried to steady myself, to stifle the tremble in my muscles but I couldn't.

You have to stop this!

I jumped to my feet when the reality of what was happening hit me. I was losing control, my strength was slipping with each tease of his skilled tongue. Master grabbed for me as I stood, I jerked out of his reach, and turned away to hide my crumbling resolve. "That's enough."

"I say when its enough."

"You gave me your word not to proceed without my consent." I reminded him flexing my fingers to still their rebellious quaking. If there was one thing that Vondorian was known for, aside from his brutality, it was the honor of his sworn word. While the other lords dealt in false promises and meaningless oaths, Master kept his word at all costs. It was rare for him to pledge his word, but he had done so to me twice in my service to him.

Silence filled the room after my blatant reminder, but I could feel his gaze burning into me. Those crimson eyes fixed on my figure no doubt, his jaw clenched with a fang tugging at his lower lip, an agitated habit of his.

This conversation was over and I dared to take a step forward only be drawn back against his hard chest. His hands clasped around my arms with all the rage that was spilling over from our mental connection.

"And you gave your word to follow me without question. You swore me your loyalty." He hissed in my ear as his grip grew tighter. "Stray from my orders again and I may forget my manners."

The young maiden was laid out before my master, on display for him to visually feast on. His prize. A gift from his reluctantly loyal servant. There was no doubting the girl’s beauty as she lay surrounded by dirt covered bedding, her own angelic look refreshing the rustic beauty in the decimated room of the old house. Rumors and talk of the Lord's angelic daughter were scattered across the southern lands. We had been hearing the stories for days now. Her unique and otherworldly elegance was such that the king had already promised her to his son. The prince would have to wait his turn. The girl was all for Vondorian now, if he could find a way around the complication I had so foolishly stumbled upon.

I had gone to collect her under my master's orders, the goal was to entice the girl. Invade her mind with a familiar dark skill from vampire lore. Mortals made it so easy to seep into their heads, this girl was no different. I invaded her mind from beyond the walls of the manor, crept into her sleeping dreams and called her to wake. Vondorian's goal was to use the girl like a puppet, to spirit her away in the middle of the night, and return her before daybreak so no one knew of the abduction. After that the girl would do whatever he wished, allowing Vondorian to take Tentusa from within. The young maiden would be forced to kill those around her, including her father leaving a wake of destruction and devastation. He enjoyed watching others bring about the demise of the things they cherished the most. It was the perverted enjoyment he got from all of this.

Once chaos overtook the house, the king of the land would have no choice but to intervene. From there it was simple. With internal fighting among one of his lands the king would make a personal appearance to right the scandal, leaving him open for attack outside the safety of the palace. Without the king, the capital would be vulnerable. A perfect welcome to the hordes of Vamdari who would soon invade this land. This was how my master worked, in the shadows. Lurking about and watching everything he touched tumble into bloody chaos.

My goal had a few more minor details as I forced the girl to seek out her father, guiding her in a sleep-like state around the manor. I would steal her away by force but where the Lord could bare witness. It didn't have to be her father, but the twisted side of me wanted to gift him that torture. I wanted Lord Davros to know no one was safe in his city. Maybe then Tentusa might have a chance at survival.

When the sandy-haired boy stopped her on the way up to the Lord's chambers my influence was shattered, she woke like from a dream forcing me back into my own mind. It could be argued that my ability of mental manipulation was not as refined as my master's, but it was strong enough to overpower this weak-minded child.

There were few things that could wake a mortal from a vampire's influence as strong as my own, pain being the most commonly used among those who still knew and believed in vampires. In reality any emotion or feeling would do to awaken an imprisoned mind, but it was so rare in mortals. They didn't have the strength or focus of will. They falter, sway. A single suggestion could shift their mental state and make a mortal weak against our invasions, but this girl was not faltering. I could see it as I peered back into her mind, felt it through the subtle link. Love. So I had to improvise. Attacking the sandy-haired boy while steeling the girl away, but making sure to keep to the shadows. I wanted them to know, wanted them to see their treasured beauty being swept out from under them. They didn't need to know I was the one making fools out of them.

Now all that stood between my master and his conquest was love, it was an emotion Vondorian so often mocked. He commanded me to stay and witness his masterful conquering of this young girl, but I had my doubts. He could implant thoughts, influence wills, and weaken the strength of a mind, but he couldn't change a pure feeling. Even with alterations it would still be there. Like a faint echo of reality drawing the mind away from him. It caused questions, doubts, and this type of operation commanded complete control, he commanded control.

How then?

I watched with heightened interest as he circled the young girl lying upon the ragged bed. His eyes carefully studied every feature of her young body carving a jealous path through me. She was young, barely old enough to be considered a woman but she had the body of an angel. Long flowing blond hair shined against the limited candle light in elegant waves that encircled her sleeping form, creating a soft golden glow on her creamy white skin. An innocence finished with a pair of full pink lips that had a natural pout. She was everything I was not.

My body had seen too many battles. Despite the rapid regeneration vampires are known for there were still scars that marred my deep olive skin. Curves that were more defined than the average beauty crafted my figure, my thighs thick and strong from years of training. My arms were solid not slender and creamy like so many other females. I was a creature crafted for war and marked by darkness with my raven hair that hit my lower back, and the deep scarlet eyes, which mirrored Vondorian's ownership over me.

Even before I had become this thing, my appearance could not compare to her. My birth race was known for their odd appearance and frightening skills. They were social outsiders. No, I could never compete with someone like this angel, and it pissed me off.

Making one last circle around her sleeping form, his hand traced along the aged wood of the bed frame. His fingers were so light and delicate dropping onto the dulled red blanket. A smirk spread across his lips as he lowered himself to sit on the bed's edge.

“Love. What a foolish notion,” he said. This was all a game to him, a challenge to see which force was stronger.

The pale blue silk of her gown traveled upward under my master's greedy touch, exposing more and more of her delicate proportions. Pooling blue silk lay across her midsection offering him the perfect view of ripely formed legs. That awful rosemary scent filled the room again and I snarled. I never liked the smell of rosemary, but now it was the smell of jealousy, hate, rage that boiled deep in my core as he touched her. Master had created a new prison inside my mind, a new hell as I watched his delicate touch travel up from the inside of her knee. He never touched me like that. There was never anything gentle when his hand brushed against my flesh. Why do you even care?

“Are you watching?” he asked with a slight husk to his voice.

Was he aroused by this?

I had never seen Master so impassioned by caressing a woman. He often seduced others, toying with their minds and drawing out deep primal desires. It was so easy to manipulate people when their minds were busy craving every inch of him. However, he never seemed aroused himself. He never looked pleased. Those red eyes, they were always blank.

“Yes.” It took every bit of my strength not to growl it, to snap and snarl at him and her.

He's MY master! The foreign voice of my desire yelled into my mind. Too blinded by rage as he climbed on top of her drawing his hand up along the angel's inner thigh. This time I couldn't help the low warning growl that rumbled in my chest. It didn't stop him as he gently lifted her leg to the side, giving him full access to the area between her legs. A sweet moan passed through the sleeping girl's full pink lips and I fisted my hands. Why did I have to watch this? What was he doing? This whole thing seemed pointless.

Leaning down he placed a trail of kisses from the inside of her knee to the meat of her thigh. I could imagine what it must feel like, his chilled breath running along warmed flesh that burned only for him. To be excited by the soft whispers of his lips gliding from one spot to the next, marking his territory with single dominating kisses. He was never so gentle with me, it was all rough, violent seduction. Even in the rare tender touches, pain was not far behind. I felt my core warm watching him seduce her flesh with his lips, clenching my fists even tighter in disgust.

I shouldn't be enjoying this, I shouldn't be watching this. It was far too private and revealing to how much control I really lacked when it came to my silver-haired master. I forced my gaze away, not able to watch any longer. There was a lot I could witness, but watching him please another gripped at my gut too tightly even though it shouldn't.

Silence hung in the air with breathless anticipation, I had to look back cursing myself as I took sight of Master feasting on the young angel's thigh, drinking from her passionately. Fangs burst from my gums and I snarled at them. How I wanted to draw blood, to rip that girl limb from limb and leave her for the animals to pick apart. My master's gaze fixed on me, stilling me and my rage, that all-seeing gaze piercing through the surface to my deepest need. I wanted him, even with his fangs imbedded in the young girl's thigh, piercing her with his painfully delicious bite. Why does she get such an honor? An honor I had experienced only a few times. It made the scar on my collarbone ache for his attention. To feel the sting of his fangs sinking into flesh, the sweet long gulps he would take of my blood.

My nail's ravaged the skin at my palms, the scent of my blood mixed with the girl’s and I heard another moan. It wasn't the gasping child, it was from him. My master moaned at my sage scent sending me into a feverish rush of want. He must have sensed it because he was gone from the girl in a blink, leaving her to writhe around in pleasure from his powerful bite.

He trapped me against the wall pushing his body up against my own, a hand on either side of my head. That smell was all over him, her smell, and I hated it. Her blood dripped from his mouth, it should be mine.

The tension in my fists ceased, lost in his powerful gaze as I lifted my hand to his face. Caressing his flawless features with my blood soaked palm, I traced my thumb over his bottom lip offering him the liquid. The betrayal of seeing him between another's legs was gone, there was only him and I now. He drew in my thumb never averting that hungry gaze from my entrapped vision. The sweet feeling of him suckling on my thumb sent wetness between my thighs. I needed this. I needed him.

“Can you sense it?” he asked with a breathless voice. “My essence is coursing through that girl. She is mine,” he whispered as he leaned into me. A shiver ringing out from where our bodies made subtle contact.

I want to be yours, my mind whispered, knowing he could hear it.

A grin spread across his lips as he drew another of my bloody fingers into his mouth, taking his time to clear every bit of crimson from the flesh. “Ask for it, Serenity. You know what you have to say. You know the words.”

It hung on my lips, the words that would bring an end to my need. Just simple words that could stifle this burning desire he had put inside me. After centuries of playing this teasing game of seduction, I wanted to say it. Bitter vanilla bit at my lips as his breath chilled them, my will on the edge of the abyss. Just say them!

Rain beat down on my face, the harsh drops like ridged pieces of ice slicing through my skin. It was a welcomed pain after those hot lustful moments with my master. Part of me wanted to be back there hidden away in that small ruined house, locked behind a rotted wooden door exploring every inch of him, but I couldn't say what he wanted to hear. In the first two centuries I served under him I wanted nothing more than the honor of being in his bed, but I had changed in this last century. Something inside of me had changed. Every time our passions ignited that something gripped at my gut, twisting it into knots of sickening pain searing through his hypnotic seduction.

I rejected him, turned my back on the sexual desire that had been building inside me, subjecting myself to his seething rage. He lashed out like a caged animal, aggravated, pent-up, and seeking retribution for his bruised ego. The broken rib he gave me had already healed, but the phantom pain of it still lingered. A reminding sting of his violent reaction to my withdraw, he was never gentle with me.

Memories of how he treated the girl clouded my mind, fueling a rage I could barely understand. I needed an outlet, something to vent this rage and un-quenched desire on, the creature inside me demanded it. It had been pent up for far too long, locked away behind my iron will that listened only to my mortal voice. The second my master's blood touched my lips it had roared back to life, so deprived of the blood it longed for in the last few months, and it had been years since I had partaken of Vondorian.

That was what set me apart from other vampires, for some reason a part of me remained mortal. Without continuous exposure or consumption of blood the creature inside me slept, but it had awakened from its peaceful sleep and was now clawing under my skin. This thing inside me was a sexual creature. Sexual and violent. It rode the fine line between bloody massacre and intense sexual satisfaction. It wouldn't know the difference between my master fucking it or a violent killing spree. For that reason the rouge men that had come to the mainland looking for supplies would have to die in painful ecstasy.

A part of me felt sorry for them as I watched their silhouettes against the soft glow in the large tent, studying their movements that seemed to become more drunken as time passed. There was no challenge in this, but my creature still flexed and purred sensing the thrill of oncoming carnage.

"Keep it clean. Keep it simple." Were the last words Master had spoken to me after beating my body to his satisfaction. Master Vondorian's instructions were to make it look typical—as if there was anything typical about the situation. I knew what he wanted though, clean, neat kills done by my blade and not my claws. I was here to frame the rouges for the young girl's kidnapping, stage a daring rescue scene where none of the men lived to speak the truth. Too bad my creature had other plans.

The last light finally vanished from the tent, silence from within and the storm humming outside. Prey lay before me sparking a thrill that slithered through my body, coursing through my veins with feverish heat. Pearl white fangs inched slowly from under my gums dripping with saliva, hungry to pierce flesh. I unfastened the cloak from around my neck allowing it to fall to the ground with a sloshy thud. My sword fell next, I wouldn't be needing it tonight despite my master's orders. The idea of disobedience tingled in my mind, setting ablaze every impure thought I could entertain. Slipping the soaked shirt off my body it too added to the mounting pile of belongings, discarded with everything else I would not be needing.

My nails started to expand, moving outward into unnaturally sharpened points as I unlaced my boots. Taking my time tugging each strand from the intricate loop system before discarding them as well. The creature inside growled, thickening the scarlet of my eyes and pumping adrenaline to my unworldly strong muscles. An addictive hormone that had my whole body captured in its high, the creature nothing more than an addict.

I am alive.

Completely and wholly alive. Standing here among the gods' tempest that raged against my own, building an unnatural force of destruction. My naked body a mockery against their raging efforts, undeterred by the violence.

Turning my attention to the darkened tents, my humanity slipped completely into the shadow of my creature. Whatever caring voice that lived inside me, that screamed this was wrong, had retreated. It sank back and cowered in fear of the thing I relinquished myself to.

Circling the tent my body now responded to the will of the creature, moving to its murderous desires. Long deadly claws reached out to brush lightly against the fabric of the tent. It made a sound like some small animal scratching at the side, but the sound rang out against the heavy wind. The rest of the world seemed to grow silent, and just that scratching could be heard.

There is no challenge in this! My mortal mind yelled attempting to make one last plea for these men.

So my creature would just make it more thrilling. It would toy with them, play against their fears of the unknown. The allure of death alone was nothing compared to screaming victims, a heated battle, or the thickening fear in a man that knew of his coming doom.

Someone moved inside the tent, low whispers followed, sending my heart racing forward, pumping the adrenaline faster into my system, the high growing stronger. More voices whispered in question, my movement quickened, jumping from one side of the structure to the other, wracking my claws against the thin threaded shield that protected my victims.

Subtle scratches turned to needy slashes as the tent’s feeble fabric gave away under my claws. The thick heavy scent of pure fear mixed with the sting of alcohol was swept out by the wind’s combination of godly rage and electrifying power.

Clanging swords sounded inside the tent, frantic fumbling for items that were mindlessly discarded in a drunken stupor. Anything to stop their sealed fate. My creature bellowed from deep within my chest, sending the men into a frenzy of terrified gasps.

It’s time, the creature purred not able to contain the insane desire rushing through our veins.

My body lunged forward slicing through the thin boundary that lay before me. Reducing it to scraps of fabric that blew helplessly in the storm. Sweaty, salty flesh met my fangs sending a pleasured moan out into the chaos. My body sparked to life, my core filled with soaking warmth. Voices yelled, swords clashed, and still they did not witness me drink their friend dry or the writhing pleasurable state it put me in. The next victim died without any delay as my claws slashed through his neck with ease, spraying the others in warm inviting blood. The edge of death that now hung in the air stiffened my nipples and made my body tingle with sweet shivering pleasure. Delightful crimson coated the screaming men that slashed senselessly at anything that moved, some even striking a fellow member of their party. Others missed by miles, fear rose off them like a thick pungent nectar fueling my creature, and darkening my already tainted soul.

It happened so fast, in seconds really, I immobilized them by slicing knees, removing legs, arms, any body part that could be detached without killing the host. Because then…then the fun started.

I made the others watch as I ravaged one body after another. Discarding limbs, organs, and other bits like a wild animal in the middle of a feast. Suggestive moans escaped my lips as endless amounts of blood passed over them. As I drank from the last warm body the power of the storm seemed to settle, lulling to a steady downpour of saddened rain. Thunder rumbled like the soft growling of a defeated foe in the distance. The gods had surrendered. Bowed before the violence I unleashed upon these men. My victory heated me to a feverish pitch, warm sticky blood covered my body tainting my scent with death.

A needy purr rumbled in my stomach as I traced my bloodied figure with wandering hands. Feeling my own sensual curves with death-fueled desire, I found the folds of my sex so easily and slid my fingers into the wetness, my creature purred louder. The night's carnage had whipped it into a frenzy. Each touch against my needy sex was skilled and knowledgeable like only a person who truly knew themselves could manage. Erotic moans howled against the weakened rumble of thunder, the gods' last protest to the mockery I was making of them. Pleasuring myself in front of them amidst their fading tempest, soaked in the blood of men, and exposed to the elements.

Release built so quickly in my core, rushing forward with each pleasured stroke of my fingers. I hit my knees not able to steady my shuddering body, my free hand tugged at one of my nipples sharpening the firm point. It elicited pain that faded into pure pleasure, a prefect accent to the steady strokes between my legs.

My creature grunted and groaned for the end, with one final stroke I sent myself over that edge. The orgasm quaked from deep within my core releasing every caged desire I had denied myself. The sounds of pure ecstasy yelled out against the steady patter of rain beating down upon the muddy earth.

Gorged, pleasured, and stained with mortal blood my other half retreated back to its slumber... For tonight.

Curious faces surrounded us as my master and I waited to meet with the infamous Lord of Tentusa. The guards that had led us into the meeting hall of the large stone manor stared at my master in awe, admiring him and his heroic deeds that had been explained upon our arrival. Staff members started gathering in the darkened hallways glancing on with awed expressions. Whispered rumors flowed through the hollow hallways of the handsome young noble who had saved the young maiden Victoria.

My master stood tall and confident amidst the dully-decorated room, a glamour of magic concealing his vampiric appearance. Gold had replaced the cold silver color of his hair that was gathered behind him into a long hanging ponytail, his perfect tanned complexion was now a creamy white to reflect someone of higher standing. The type that didn't need to venture into the sunlight because they had others to do it for them. It was laughable, most nobles acted like the vampires legend spoke so often about. Then there were those eyes of his, the color now fashioned into the most entrancing bright blue. A blue that covered the deep crimson, masking him in innocence, but I could see through the falseness. I could see the truth behind them, the whirls of darkness on the outer edges of the innocence where the former bloody color seeped through and faded into royal plum. A combination of good and evil. Good were his promises, evil were their fruition.

An Adonis stood before these people, a perfect example of the gods’ true perfection, the gilded outer shell of twisted darkness and me at his side. Cloaked in yards of fabric and a shadowed hood per his instructions. My eyes now resembled the blue in his to better hide my true nature. All of this was just another way for him to claim dominance over me. My looks could not compare to the allure of his. Still he wanted not a single eye to fall upon my body in a way that might suggest impure thoughts, and he would be reading all of them. Seeping into every mortal’s mind within the room, busying himself with sifting through their mangled internal chatter. It gave me a chance at mental peace for once.

The rumoring whispers silenced at the sound of a large heavy door opening at the far end of the room, from which thundered heavy steps of dominance and authority. A man towering over most of the on-lookers marched in with broad shoulders, rough bearded features, and the softest brown eyes I had ever seen. They held a glimmer of suspicion as they looked to us. Maybe there was hope for this city yet.

Behind him followed the sandy-haired boy I had battled the night before, he was dressed more knightly this morning. A flashy show since he didn't have an ounce of skill, I had overpowered him with but a fraction of my mortal abilities. He looked like a child that had snaked his way to the top. I could sense the deception within him as he walked closer. It was something the young Victoria couldn't possibly know about as she tagged along behind him like a love struck fool. Dark heavy circles had formed under her eyes and her already pale skin had taken on a ghostly complexion, a reaction to Master's feeding and energy that he had infected her with. It would only be hours now until she was completely under his influence.

The small collection of mortals marched toward us, casting suspicious glances our way. I could feel my master evaluating them, shifting his casual gaze from the lord to the boy, and finally to his prize. Pleasure rolled off him when his eyes scanned her form, his pride spilled over our mental link. That was his new torture for me. It sent my blood into a raging boil.

When it comes time I will kill that bitch myself! my creature growled in my core, stirring with swift reaction to the jealousy that raged inside me.

I focused the new energy I had gained from the rouges' blood on not lashing out at the girl. I tried my best to smooth the waking creature within when panic hit me. A great panic that bit at my chest, it gripped me and then formed into a seething anger. As intense as the emotion was it felt hollow, empty, and disconnected from me. Master, my mind whispered. I glanced up at him. His stance had gone stiff, tension creasing his shoulders. Then I saw her, the figure approaching from another open door. Tentusa was full of surprises.

Her strides were wide and elegant as she extended each leg with effortless grace, bending slightly to take another step. The large muscles in her thighs flexed under her small frame as she moved. Standing taller than all the rest, she even towered over my master taking her place behind the Lord. Clad in tight dark blue attire that was made for flexible combat she looked at us, her olive complexion so out of place compared to the others. Pale green eyes looked nearly devoid of all emotion, and her ghost white hair was pulled back tight and fastened behind. Her ears held a slight rounded point, much like my own when not in this glamoured state. As if those features did not declare her in that moment, the stark white tattoo, among many others, under her left cheek shaped into a form of some type of “P” like symbol, did. An expression of her heritage that all of her kin wore with great pride. Seeing the familiar brand sent a burn to the mangled looking scar at the back of my neck. I had the same symbol when I was young but not anymore.

Opsona.

The very race my master had eradicated from this land centuries before, the very ones whose only purpose in life was to fulfill their oath to destroy all dark creatures. To restore light to the world through ruthless means, making them not saints but a necessary evil. It was an endless battle they fought and it had lasted through countless millennia. They were cunning, skilled, and deadly. This was a complication. Inside my mortal self beamed with twisted glee, this one single woman could put an end to all of this, including my master. She could put an end to me.

“You have done me a great service,” the lord began addressing Master, who in turn bowed in what would seem like respect. In fact it was more of an executioner bowing to their victim in mock knowledge of their imminent death.

Vondorian thanked him for the kind words and the charming started. Pointless conversation passed between the two men as the others looked on. The suspicion that had first riddled the Lord Davros's face was fading with each lie that passed my master's lips. He was skilled at charming mortals—skilled at charming anyone or anything. With or without his mental persuasion he had the gift of the tongue, smoothing his victim into a false sense of comfort like he had known them their whole lives. A skill usually reserved for devils. To me it sounded more like boring pointless conversation. Besides, the Opsona woman was far more interesting.

Her eyes traced Vondorian but her look held no admiration or fascination like the others. His vampire charm had no effect on her, and it made me jealous. How could she be so resilient to him? One of the grand masters to all in the vampire legions. This only intrigued me more. While her attention was focused on my master I tried to sneak into her mind, pushing pass the mental walls, which proved to be difficult. I was met with resistance, a force that pushed back and denied me access. It only solidified my determination to break in. Sweat started to form on my brow from the strain. I struggled to the point that pain flooded my temples, but I wasn't going to give up. I had to know how she was doing it, how could she be so strong against him.

A sensation slammed into my mind causing my perfect stance to falter a little as my knees buckled and my head hung forward in exhaustion. Pain gripped onto my body with stomach turning discomfort.

Are you all right? Master's voice asked inside my throbbing head, but I didn't reply.

The pain was worth it, she was an Elder. Pure blood. The oldest and most skilled ranking of the Opsona. They were so rare in this world where races mingled for survival. Stories about their terrifying skills were told as nightmares to young fledgling vampires and demons, and as the numbers of the Opsona slowly dwindled through the years Elders became a rank of legends. This explained it all as I watched her gaze on Vondorian. Those pale green eyes expressed a knowing. She couldn't see beyond his glamour, but she knew what he was. A gift of the Elders, they could sense things like us. They knew evil when it wandered close enough. This made her more of a threat.

Her all-seeing gaze shifted to me, a sudden feeling of complete exposure washed over my body. I felt naked and on display for all the mortals to see, to witness what I truly was despite the yards of soaking wet fabric that concealed my form. That pale gaze traveled up my body and peered into the depths of my shadowed hood, becoming more intense, fixed firmly on the features of my face, locked in deep concentration. Her lips parted with a sharp intake of breath. Her brow tensed, the muscle in her jaw clenched, and fear sparked in the corner of her stern eyes. The steady beat of my heart increased with her expression, quickened to an excited rate as she took a step back. Such an interesting reaction, both hers and mine. Did she know about me? Did she know what or who I used to be?

“You must stay, at least one night so I may repay you for your services,” the lord insisted, his arm already around my master's shoulders like they were old friends. So cunning.

In the short amount of time it took the Opsona to figure us out, my master had already charmed the lord into complete admiration. How had I lasted so long against those charms?

“No!” someone shouted. One of the guards that had first received us rushed forward. “He is not honorable, m'lord. Please send him away!” the man yelled.

His protest brought a smirk to my shadowed face. A sensitive. So rare to find and yet here he was. The city of Tentusa was proving to be a collection of the rare and strange, a focal point for every defense possible against things like us. This man was someone that could sense the disaster that followed in our wake though he couldn't know what we were, his intuition warned only against our intentions.

“Be silent!” the lord growled at the man before motioning for more guards to come and remove him. “You have raddled your last bit of nonsense.”

The lord's words sounded tired and repeated, this man must have voiced opinions much like this in the past. No doubt written off as the lunatic who had strange feelings that always seemed to come true. The others around him, those close might have learned to trust those feelings but with my master invading their wills, their trust was gone. Fleeting like their freedom with each moment we stood there in that room. It didn't surprise me when his friends came to carry him off as the lord requested, what did catch my attention was the Opsona. She could have reaffirmed the man's claims seeing as she held a great deal more standing in the city. Maybe some type of adviser by the way she had positioned herself behind Lord Davros, but silent she stood, gaze fixed back on my master.

More men moved forward to remove the guard as he fought to gain back his voice. He knew the danger that we presented, he had to by the way he battled against the men removing him. He struggled more as the others tried to pull him into the corridor leading out, fearing to hurt him, their grasps appeared weak and he broke free going right for my master. Hand on his sword he charged. The weapon had started to hum as it raised an inch from the sheath, but I silenced it. Upon the man before he could even fully draw the blade, my hand grasped his and thrust the weapon back into its sheath.

I moved on instinct, on core programming that had been ingrained in me since my immortal initiation. I didn't want to hurt this man but Lord Vondorian's safety came first, so I broke his wrist. A pain-filled howl echoed off the stone walls of the room. Unskilled footfalls of the sandy-haired boy followed the breaking of bones as he raced in my direction, his movements slow compared to a typical warrior. To me they were like a child's first steps, and I was at him before he could complete a full stride. Leaving the injured guard to rile in pain, I grabbed the boy's shoulders and tossed him to the ground. Air left his lungs from the harsh fall and I was on him. Perched on top of his chest with my sword lying across his neck. Terror stared back at me.

As I twitched my wrist to start the slashing motion to decapitate the child, a chill shivered through my body. Something cold and sharp pressed against my neck and a hand gripped my hair drawing my head back.

“Serenity!” I heard my master growl, snapping me out of the heated seconds that had just transpired. “Stay that sword!”

Withdrawing the blade from the boy's throat I watched relief replace the fear that had gripped him. My master’s words rattled off in the background in explanation for my actions, but they did not interest me, the lies that he would tell. Instead the Opsona woman with the dagger still at my throat had my full attention. Not because of the threat on my life, no I could take care of that. This silly dagger was of no major threat, but more to the point I had not heard nor sensed her movements. This was puzzling. She responded in quick reflex to my actions that were far beyond that of mortals. How? This was interesting and for once I was glad Master was able to secure our stay.

The woman's blade slid away from my throat teasing my flesh with its sharpened edge. My creature purred. It liked to play games. Her hot breath whispered against my ear as her grip jerked my head backward. “You have so much to learn little one.”

Vondorian locked himself away during the daylight hours. Retreating late in the morning after some more informal chatting with Lord Davros, our current situation was draining even for someone as masterful as him. Controlling the young girl, filling her with his purest essence, masking his vampiric features, and influencing those around him was taking its toll. Exhaustion had taken over his otherwise flawless features, and inside I was delighted by that. His mind and energy so busied in his ventures I was now free, his voice no longer whispering to me in relentless repetition. There was nothing but my own thoughts, my own voice. I felt liberated as I sat outside his room standing guard.

I sat in a chair watching the servants pass throughout the day, some whispered as they went by, exchanging rumors about the mysterious gentleman guest, and his strong female warrior who overpowered their resident hero. Others eyed the door behind me as they hurried by. Either way, this wing of the manor seemed to be a very busy place as my master slept.

He wasn't like other vampires that required a safe haven from the daylight sun, his skin was unaffected by the rays that would burn others of his kind. I figured this tolerance to sunlight had something to do with his age. Vampires became more powerful with each passing year. Perhaps my master had grown so old that the sunlight had given up trying to make him its prisoner. I too was left with this advantage, the sun held no control over me, but that had nothing to do with my age. Vampires far beyond my years didn't have this ability, and the speculation for my immunity ranged from the most absurd to the simplest of explanations. The only thing the others could agree on was that whatever I was, it wasn't a vampire.

Regardless of this resistance to sunlight, my master still liked to sleep during the day and flex his fangs at night. There was something about the vampire folklore that excited him, the idea that his habits might inspire an age-old fear of creatures spoken about decades before true civilization was established.

Whatever the reason there was no curse for him to be a vampire, no shame in it. His immortality was a thrill, an exploratory experience in which he was determined to master. I envied him that. For me being an immortal, even if only partly so, was a private hell, a lowly suffering that even the most reluctant of vampires could not comprehend. I suffered by the second. I deserved it.

Releasing a relaxed breath I took in the sight from the window to my left. The steady downpour of rain had lasted all day and now as the sun set the clouds filled with a dulled maroon hue. Murky and diluted from the usual bright vibrant colors of the sunset, I could relate to that solemn rainy sky because I felt the same. When not over powered by Vondorian's seduction or the animalistic cravings of my creature there was nothing but a dull ache. A constant lingering of a shame and guilt that followed me everywhere, it haunted my mind when everything else had grown still and silent. I never used to hurt like this, so why now?

“Serenity?” a voice asked from my right, the sandy-haired boy peeked his head around the corner. “That's your name correct, Serenity?” he asked again and I nodded in response.

He came toward me, a nervous fidget in his hands. His fingers fumbled over each other like they were trying to grasp something. Those inexperienced foot falls of his stopped a few feet away and I directed my gaze to the aging gray wall in front of me, annoyed by his timid appearance.

“I thought you might like to know that guard you attacked is all right. A broken wrist but still nothing time won't heal.”

I remained silent, in all honesty I wished the man dead. The part of me still subjected to Vondorian's influence wished him a long, painful death. Something slow, torturous with lots of blood just to ease my master's troubled mind. One less stress in this growing complicated endeavor.

“Maybe it will please you to know he has been dismissed from his duties?” the boy said again, a slight change in his tone, like he was trying to get me to respond. Why was he even here?

“I feel no pleasure in knowing a man has been excused for simply warning of danger. You and your lord would do well to acknowledge such warnings and heed them.”

The boy let out a nervous laugh. I caught his expression from the corner of my eye. The look on his face held hesitation as if he didn't know whether to laugh or rush and warn his lord as I had suggested. He didn't turn and run off so he must have settled on the idea it was a joke. If he only knew...

Silence replaced his nervous laughter, and though I had hoped to see him gone, when I looked in his direction he was still standing there. His eyes were fixed on my uncloaked body scanning up and down, green eyes detailing every curve that wasn't hidden under my attire. The boy’s imagination seemed to fill in the rest, something I glimpsed as I invaded his thoughts, reading through the desire that I stirred in him. The ability to peer into minds, to invade someone’s innermost conscience was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing that I could read others thoughts, take in their strategies, or even learn things about them they didn't know. My abilities left little limitation in what I could access in both a strong and weak mind.

The curse came because my abilities left me vulnerable. My master had focused my training on invasionary practices, not in defense. It left me open to outside invasion, and I could not halt my mental scanning like others with the gift could. My mind was always glimpsing at the surface of everyone's thoughts. Taking in hundreds of internal voices that rambled on with meaningless chatter. Over the years it had just become background noise, but it never left me with any true peace.

This boy's typical surface thoughts were that of advancement, repeating to himself to maintain his appearance and to be aware of when the young Victoria's gaze was upon him. Going beyond the surface all I could sense was lust, pure primal lust. Lust for me and the thrill he imagined in making me submit to him. Fantasies of how he would take me already filtered through his mind, but I wasn't the first. His head was filled with past conquests, of nights spent in sweaty passion with each and every maid in the manor. Of women in the royal court, and even strangers he had met on the highway.

Victoria was not among those memories that he so clung to. The girl loved a letch and there was no emotions or feelings of love toward the young girl in his mind. Instead just greed, endless greed and satisfaction at deflowering her before she was sent to marry the prince.

Poor child. If she only knew of the power she could hold over these men, maybe she would have a fighting chance. Instead they would ruin her if I hadn't already marked her for death.

His green eyes stilled their wandering when they caught mine. He was young. A young foolish boy, slender, awkward with a charming smile and scars from battles or training. I could see the appeal he had to offer when he grinned at me. Yes, he was a catch compared to the other older men around the manor. A first class hero knighted by the king himself, bedding him was an honor.

I'm not that desperate.

“Marcus!” a female growled.

The woman whom had so easily avoided my warrior senses approached from down the darkening hall. She wore a stern look on that olive colored face, with crossed arms glaring at Marcus.

“Do you not have better things to attend?”

Marcus flushed a red color and his eyes fluttered about in panic. This woman was some type of authority around the manor. She held some type of high position, maybe more than adviser by the way she commanded the boy. I made a mental note as he rushed off around the corner. The woman stood there for a long time looking at me, as if trying to figure out some great mystery.

“You're a servant?” her question held a bit of disbelief. I only nodded in response. “Just a servant? Or a protector? A concubine? Mate?” she listed off various professions a woman could do for a man like the noble Vondorian presented himself as. “A loyal pet?”

The last suggestion struck a deep cord inside me, my mortal self wept in pity and shame, and the creature growled wanting to rip that word from her lips. “I do many things for my lord, as I’m sure you do for yours.” I knew there was nothing between her and the master of the house, but the implication was still there. A lazy attempt at a strike to impart the same reaction her words had on me. Instead all I received was a knowing smirk, this woman seemed to have pulled the truth out of me. Grasped it from my mind when even I couldn't.

“Dinner will be served shortly. Lord Davros requests you both in attendance,” she said with a smug tone before turning and disappearing down the hall.

I stepped into the pitch darkness of my master's room, my eyes adjusting to the blackened space with fine precision.

“My lor—” the breath rushed from my body as something firm slapped across my face, a sting setting in after the shock of the blow.

“Why do you test me?” my master's angry voice growled. I turned my face back to catch that steely crimson gaze. He could never keep up his glamoured appearance when angry. “You're lucky that boy is more interested in your body than what comes from your mouth.”

“I fail to see a problem then,” I answered with the defiance he had accused me of.

An amused smirk passed over his lips, the disobedient response igniting desire inside him that reflected in those blood red pools. He turned away removing his shirt to tease that part of me that lusted after his perfect body. My gaze traced the contours of his toned muscles that covered his back, rich sun-kissed mounds that rippled and shifted with overwhelming power. It made me shudder.

“Still that boy is going to be a problem. We have to deal with him swiftly.”

“The boy is an idiot. We needn't worry about him,” I assured him, but he didn't appear to be put at ease with my response.

“Idiots can be dangerous. We already have enough problems to focus on, we do not need another.” His tone seemed stressed and aggravated, a small part of me felt for him. “His head is full of drive for advancement, maybe we should allow the boy the honor of joining us?” My master glanced at me over his shoulder offering a devilish grin. He knew I would not approve, creating more like him, like the others that served him was something I wished on no one.

“He would never survive the process,” I replied, which was not a complete lie. “Yes, he has a mind for advancing but the boy is weak. He is not strong enough to complete the change.”

Vondorian gave a shrug of his shoulders and went to the wardrobe, pulling the doors open and busying himself in the mess of clothes. He might not have said it, but he knew I was right. Becoming a vampire was not a simple process and the success rate was limited. Only one of every seven strong youthful people survived the transformation. The rest died. Some perished from the pain, others from the spike in adrenaline, and the least common yet most horrific, their bodies split apart. The rapid muscle growth too extreme for their skin to contain.

“Then again…we could use him,” I added. “The boy is a letch. I could easily seduce him as Victoria watches, it would crush the girl to the point of complete submission,” I suggested which received a threatening growl that shook me to my core.

I had never heard him make a more threatening sound. He spun toward me, threw my body up against the wall, and pressed against me.

“If another so much as touches you I shall condemn them to a fate far worse than death!” His words were laced with jealous venom. I had never witnessed such a thing coming from him.

Over the last century I had noticed his over-protective nature toward me, the possessiveness he reflected in everyday interactions between the other vampire lords. I had thought it was due to another lord trying to claim me as his underling. I was in high demand in the vampire nation, but this reaction was shocking. Since when did he care who I slept with?

“You are mine, Serenity,” he said drawing a long strand of my hair from behind the slight point of my ear. He brought the satin strand to his nose, making a deep inhale as he closed his eyes. A hesitated breath left his lips and he drew in my scent again twisting the hair around his finger. When he opened his eyes there was something different, a look that went far beyond desire or lust. It burned through me with intense yearning and my body flooded with arousal. “Remember that.”

How could I forget?

“Only through blood,” I challenged, my mortal voice of reason finding a way through the feelings that stirred inside me. Vondorian's chilled lips formed into a cocky smirk, the strand of hair falling from his grasp. His sharp pointed nail traced along the line of my jaw scraping at the flesh, sending a thrill that coursed from the spot and into the depths of my darkest desires. The creature inside roared to life as my body heated.

“For now,” he whispered, teasing his breath against my lips, “At least.”

He leaned closer, the bitter vanilla unique to him overtook me, brushing those cold lips against mine he sent my body into a quivering frenzy of need. The whispers inside my mind, his whispers, returned in a flurry of sexual promises.

“But for now I have a task that requires your attention.” The seduction in his voice echoed in my ears. “Yes?”

“Yes, what?”

I knew what he wanted, I had been avoiding the title this whole time, never once giving him the satisfaction of hearing it come from my defiant tongue. It was a word I used to say without thought, it was like taking a breath, so natural when it came out of my mouth.

“Say it!” he growled, his lips gliding across my own sending the heat of my blood downward, readying me for all the promises he whispered inside my head. Chilled breath moved from my lips across the line of my jaw, and ended at my ear where he nipped with a fang. A sharp spark of pain tickled my senses and then melted into the most torturous tease. “Say it,” he whispered again, softer this time and I couldn’t refuse.

“Yes, Master,” I moaned as his lips teased against the side of my neck, so aware of his bare chest brushing against me and his hand that worked at the buttons of my top. The small copper fastening branded with his crest seemed to undo themselves at his command.

“Lord Davros. I want him... dealt with,” he commanded forcing his knee between my legs and putting pressure against my wet sex. I groaned under his taunting actions. “Use the sensitive, make it look interesting.”

“Yes, Master.” the word fell from my mouth without the disobedient hesitation from before.

His lips pressed against my neck again and this time suckled at the flesh, a shiver rushed through my body and I was lifted up. His strong grasp at my bare waist, flesh on flesh. When did my shirt become undone? A wayward thought that disappeared the second my hands gripped at his shoulders, moaning from the exquisite feel of his luxurious body.

“Tell me what you want Serenity,” he seduced me further. “Grant me this pleasure,” he requested.

My body already in a fury of heated arousal, the words sat on the tip of my tongue. He only needed permission, I just had to consent. An easy thing to grant with a few short words. They formed on my tongue ready to spill over my lips as his fingers slid into the waist of my pants.

I want this.

Pain seared through my chest, burned at my flesh and flushed the sexual need from my body. My grip tightened on my master's shoulders and I pushed him away with the full feeling of panic that had suddenly gripped me.

There it was again as I sat panting on the floor, that sense of doom weighed heavy on me like my submission to him would put an end to more than just this centuries long desire. He stood a few feet from my half naked and trembling figure, looking down at my shaken form with seething rage. I braced for the pain.

Meaningless conversation blurred into the pain that radiated from my arm, throbbing, tensing with each natural movement of simple breathing. It was like nothing I had ever felt outside of battle. Amidst hoards of people slaying each other it was easy to ignore such intensity, now sitting here and listening to Vondorian spin lie after lie of our many travels, the pain was the only thing that dominated my thoughts. Using all other energy to direct my outward appearance as some form of stoic mask was leaving me near exhaustion.

The bleeding had stopped long before we arrived in the dining hall, the outer wounds from my master's brutality had quickly mended but the bones, they were not so easy. Still this injury was lasting a lot longer than it should have, there must have been a lot more damage than I originally thought. The flesh was still an awful purple and had yet to fade to the more healing yellow color. For once I was thankful for the gown my master had ordered me to wear. A long sleeve number, dark blue, because it was his favorite color, low cut and form fitting. Despite the concealing nature of the arms, what this dress said about my relationship with my master made me shudder. This was just another part of his punishment, after the physical assault he started to ramble about Marcus. Accusing me of enjoying his pathetic attempts to charm me into his bed. Pulling a dress from the wardrobe he called me a whore and said I was to dress like one. Just another display to show who owned who.

It was degrading to be flashed around like some kind of sex slave, a pleasure toy that followed on his heels. I trained under many combat masters, studied the darkest of arts, proved myself as the highest ranked Vamdari, led the nation's army to glorious victory, and now I sat beside my master dressed in a gown fit for a concubine. Something that brought a smirk to the Opsona woman whom had been introduced as Rhea.

Sitting across from me she would often venture a glance in my direction, that awful grin gleaming back like inside she was bursting with laughter. Rhea mocked me, delighted at the notion I was nothing more than some kind of prostitute accompanying a noble in order to stifle the loneliness of long travel, even if she knew better. Rhea's thoughts and image of me were more troubling than the others in the manor that witnessed my shameful arrival on Vondorian's arm. What penniless servants, under-trained guards, and Marcus drooling beside Rhea thought of me, I couldn't care. Seeing that chuckle in those pale green eyes put more shame to me than I had ever felt before.

“I wonder what is keeping father,” Victoria chirped glancing at the empty chair that sat at the head of the table. “He tends to be very strict about meal times.”

“Don't worry yourself. I am sure he is just attending to some business,” Rhea reassured the young girl. “A many troubling things have taken place as of late.”

Rhea's words set an unease in my gut, a shudder of fear as that mocking glare turned to one of knowing. Like she had pulled some deep dark secret from my very being yet again and now held all the cards. That look of confidence sent a shiver through my body, forcing me to look left at my master. Did that look of hers worry him as much as it did me?

“Yes, all this trouble with those criminals. I'm sure your father will be here shortly,” my master added, not a single crack in his smooth, charming exterior. No sense of panic came from his inner self either, all I felt was a clam collected aura with a deep pleasure every time his eyes wandered onto the young Victoria. His prize.

“Oh no,” Marcus jumped into the conversation with a bright excited tone that drew my attention right away. “Rhea was referring to the creature. That mess is certainly what has our lord tied up this evening.”

“Creature?” my master repeated with some interest taking a sip of the red wine that had been presented to him earlier.

“Did you not hear?”

“That's enough Marcus.” There it was again, that mother-like tone that silenced Marcus and his foolish child-like ramblings. He straightened and cleared his throat trying to present himself as well mannered and of higher rank than was true. The boy obeyed, but not out of fear or duty, he respected her. What an interesting concept.

I had commanded thousands of men, warriors, beasts from the depths of the Underworld. Each one willing to lay down their life for our great cause, ready to strike at just a single word from my lips but they never looked at me like Marcus did Rhea. There was never any respect, loathing maybe, disgust because they knew what I was and what I wasn't. Ultimately it was fear that led them to follow my instructions, that was all I had inspired.

A low growl echoed in my mind, “No, please tell me more about this creature,” Vondorian's tone was that of curiosity, inside he directed suspicion my way.

“Such a boorish tale, why not share with us how you bravely saved our young mistress?” Rhea redirected, a challenge reflected in those pale green pools. I could see the hesitation in my master as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip, a light smile flashing to the three of them that sat across from us. He didn't want to spin another lie of how we saved another misfortuned soul. He longed to know about this creature Marcus so foolishly spoke of, to confirm what he already knew.

His scent seemed to grow thicker as he thought, no doubt flashing through different suggestions to extract the knowledge he wanted. Aggravation flooded through our subtle master-slave bond as he fumbled for something to say. When Victoria clapped her hands in delight and requested the same story he could no longer refuse. He liked that stupid child, the bright and sunny girl with perfect lips and well-sculpted body.

Your death will be slow and agonizing little angel.

“Very well,” Vondorian surrendered, but inside I could sense his intense anger, this would be the last time he surrendered to them. Sitting back in his high-backed chair with a false smile he began.

“That storm moved in on us so quickly and most of our belongings had been lost on the voyage in.”

Marcus couldn't help but butt in, adding another piece of evidence to the suspicious nature of our arrival. “Yes, this storm is something. Usually the weather in the valley is very mild. A few light rainstorms a year, a few more in the wet season, but nothing like this. Even this rain is odd, it hasn't stopped in two days.” That was just when we arrived, even though the gods had withdrew their raging tempest, in some form the endless rain seemed to be a final attempt to cleanse the land, to wash our negative influence away, a futile and half-hearted effort.

My master ignored the boy's remarks clearing his throat and continuing with the story, “We found the encampment and stopped to ask if we might join them for the night. Once inside their tent those rouges tried to rob us. Naturally my servant would not allow it and made quick work of the men. It was then we discovered the unconscious Victoria. We managed to rouse her just long enough to extract the information of her capture, then like any honorable person I returned her.”

It seemed so neat, clean, and quick. No long draw-out description of events like his other stories. He seemed much too eager to rush the details and it set me on edge.

“You were all very fortunate then,” Rhea stated relaxing back into her chair, an air of confidence about her that held a thick discomfort in the room. Master raised an eyebrow with question and slight interest; inside I could feel his need to know more. His desire to pounce upon the woman and rip the words and knowledge from her lips.

“The beast must have attacked just after you fled with our young mistress because what we found was not the civil scene you left.” Rhea's eyes shifted from my master to me and stayed locked in place. She knew. “It is also very curious they tried to rob you. The men that inhabit the northern island are peaceful, and have a long-standing trade agreement with Lord Davros. So odd they would try to steal away Lady Victoria and rob some wandering travelers."

The conversation was between her and my master, but her words seemed to be directed toward me. “I assure you everything transpired as I had recalled.” My master spoke so elegant with his new lie.

“I wasn't questioning your integrity.” She paused locking gazes with my master. He was caught, now even Marcus looked on him with suspicion. “Fortune is very much on your side, cheers,” Rhea mocked lifting her glass toward us and toasting what she called our fortune. My master nodded in acceptance but inside my mind he was snarling in anger.

“Tell me then, what did you find?”

“It's not really appropriate conversation for a dinner table,” Rhea deflected.

I had felt Master's rage before, suffered his awful moods, and survived his most awful physical punishments. The feeling boiling over from his body was nothing like I had ever witnessed before, it embedded a fear inside my body that shocked me to the very core. An awful terror that made me visually shudder, the pain in my arm forgotten, lost in the dread of what more he could and would possibly do to me.

“Victoria,” Rhea called down to the girl who was still eying Vondorian in wonder and admiration, “run along and see what is keeping your father.”

The girl rose with one last look to my master before hurrying off. I should have been delighted, overjoyed at what she would find. The torture that was about to be inflected on that young girl should have been enough to send me into a state of twisted delight, but nothing could perpetrate the seething rage rolling off my master, all of which was directed toward me.

With nervous repetition I paced the length of the room fumbling my hands over each other again and again. I tried to grasp on to something, an idea, a hidden skill I never knew I had, anything that would halt the punishment I was about to receive. I had fought brutal battles, lingered near death, trained with the most savage of beasts on all the planes, and yet nothing could compare to the twisted punishments my master delivered. Beatings were standard, those I had become numb to, but for the crime I committed this punishment would be so much more than a simple beating. Something far beyond what a person could define as punishment or torture. It would carry his special brand of sick twisted horror and I feared it.

Hours had passed since I had been confined to this room, held behind a large stone door deep under the manor. It was part of an old system of tunnels and dwellings used long ago, remnants of the previous people that used to call this valley home. The waiting was maddening, not knowing what cruel torment Vondorian had in store for me, locked away under layers of stone where no one could hear me cry out. The more time passed the more nervous I became, not from the delay of what would happen, but in the knowledge that the hours spent unable to unleash his rage only made it grow. In the heat of the moment my master was violent, brutal at times, lashing out like an animal at the source of his anger. Not a thought crossed his mind in those moments but those of inflicting pain and hearing the cries of his victim as he broke bones.

However, in those moments he was unable to rage like a beast. When he had time to stew in his intense rage, the thoughts that entered his mind could only best be described as creative. Twisted otherworldly forms of pain that not even the demons had discovered. His torments no longer became just about the pain he could physically inflict, but what depraved mental hell he could construct inside the mind. I had known some to even lose their sanity to his creative methods. I considered it to be one of his many dark gifts, his ability to reach deep within someone and pull out the one thing that could crush their very soul.

The thought built a lump of discomfort in my stomach, one that churned with every ticking second. Not even the pleasure of Victoria's traumatized state could settle my frayed nerves. I should have been delighted, gleeful even.

The young girl had gone to find her father and only moments after she had left the dining hall a blood-chilling scream echoed through the manor. I knew that she had found her father just the way I left him. Run through with a sword, slain in a pool of his own blood. Nothing elegant or brutal about the scene. A simple death with his supposed attacker, the sensitive with the broken wrist, dangling above his body, pale blue with lifeless eyes. The breath strangled from him with the rope around his neck. There were the personal touches, some scattered papers, an overturned chair, a little blood smear to give the illusion of a fight. In truth there had been no struggle from either of them.

A scene of complete horror crafted with an artist’s fine hand just for her to witness. Simple and not too graphic but enough to burn its image into her mind, my perverted gift to Victoria. It had the desired effect, Vondorian had been consoling the young girl all night and into these early morning hours. At least I thought it was morning. Locked down here even my senses were thrown off by the smell of musty earth and stale air.

Frozen in mid pace a feeling crept up my back and tingled across my skin spreading a chill of terror. He's coming, my mind whispered fearing he might be listening. I didn't want to give him the pleasure in knowing just how frightened I had become, how worked up the mental recalls of former examples of his abuse had made me.

I couldn't hear him, not even on the unstable stone staircase that led to my cell with all its missing steps and loose brick work. His movements were too silent, too skilled, but I could sense him. The unnerving sensation that was special just to him, like something was there just beyond the full grasp of the senses. It wasn't a feeling you could fully take hold of and analyze, but still it was there. Faint and off in the distance of the mind, like a phantom taunting with its dreadful feeling.

At the first sensation of him, my dark master, my heart skipped into a flutter of fear, but now as the stone slab sealing me in started to rumble, my heart slowed. It dared not beat a fraction louder than a soft hum for fear of the delight my panic would bring him. Will he rush in with mad fury? Rush me with that unnatural speed and ravage my body with blood hungry claws? The possibilities flooded my mind from the most graphic idea that these stones would soon be saturated with my blood, to something more psychologically damaging.

The stone lurched back grinding against the floor. With each slow, agonizing scrape my heart continued to stall, turning the blood in my veins ice cold. My breath caught in my throat, my body screaming with panic, throwing out insane suggestions to break free or to smooth my master's fury. Everything from seducing him to attacking entered my mind. Why didn't I try to escape when I had the chance, before he locked me away in this room?

Out there was no better. Out there Ryder was waiting for me, a long time admirer of our master, she worshipped every inch of him. Having been in his service long before I came into their lives, Ryder was on the top. The whispered rumor in the ranks was that she would be my master's mate, the only one he would ever answer to. It was a high place of honor, one that in my youth I had striven for. Once I bested Ryder in battle, the feud between us started. Now she commanded the small band of Vamdari that followed us in our conquest, an elite group positioned just outside the valley. If I had run I would not have gotten far. Not with that group tracking me.

No, there was no escaping this. My master entered the room with a fluid grace. He seemed to be in a state of eerie calm. His stance suggested he had some type of deep inner peace, but those crimson eyes held a frightening delight.

He stood there studying me, even in the pitch blackness of the room I could see the blank expression on his face. Anticipation laced with fear itched on my fingertips as his gaze wandered over my still body, I knew the look on my face said it all. Told the story of my inner terror which rose when the right side of his lips lifted into the most devious half smile. It was all so clear now. My fate was sealed. Maybe if I begged for death he would grant it, if I pleaded with every ounce of my being there would be mercy.

Don't be a fool... You're so much better than that. I flinched at the sound of his growling voice inside my head. A small whimper escaped my lips and made the delight leave his eyes.

Everything stood still, frozen in a second of time, not even my panicked heart dare beat. The air grew tense, a breath held on both our lips as we just stood there. Neither one of us dared to move. It was some kind of demented stand off.

Why is he just standing there? My frantic mind screamed. This waiting was even more torturous than before.

My eyes burned from the prolonged exposure and my body trembled with anticipation, unable to hold his gaze any longer, I blinked. Thick black lashes blurred my vision for a fraction of a second. My eyes opened again to find the room empty. No menacing figure of darkness looming in front of me, just the pitch black nothing of the room.

Icy cold like death's embrace gripped at my neck, pressure at my waist pulled me back without full realization of what was happening. A hard, stiff all encompassing presence held me in place. I didn't move, I couldn't, the fear would not allow it as vanilla drifted across my nose, taunting me with its bitter side. Vondorian's grip wandered around my waist, his hand at my neck caressing and commanding my head in the direction he wished it. The sweet sensual attention disturbing in the current situation. My mouth ran dry and I tried to swallow to make my voice form into something that was audible.

“W-w-what will you do with me?” I asked with all the courage I could find. Each word quivering to match the permanent tremble of my body.

He didn't answer, instead dreadful silence and roaming hands spoke for him. Hands that searched my figure, stroking over curves and forming my body into his. The more he touched the more I trembled. Titling my chin up and to the side he exposed my neck, the bare olive flesh on display for him, his lips whispering against the soft curve of my ear.

“They fear a beast, so I will give them one.”

My whole being stopped, halted all at once at his revelation. Something far beyond fear settled into my core at his words, at what my punishment would be. This was far greater than I could ever have imagined. Air built up in my lungs and rushed out in a scream of protest that was stifled by his fangs plunging into my neck. Piercing flesh and muscle in one single powerful bite, it silenced my voice and turned it into garbled gasps that I tried to form into words.

His lips clamped on the wound he had created, suckling the flesh with harsh feverish need. His fangs embedded in my neck jerked back slightly only to clamp down once again causing my body to spasm in pain. This physical pain was nothing, it couldn't touch on the hell he was sending me to, and all the while his hands continued to wander over my body while I was too weak to deny him. The initial protest I was trying to form with strained words now vanished, my body relaxed into the weakness as he drained my strength. Drinking feverishly from me he pulled away, lapping at my skin like some animal cleaning a wound. My body limp against his I could do nothing but surrender.