Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1)

Home > Other > Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1) > Page 4
Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1) Page 4

by Charli B. Rose


  The need for vengeance filled me. A little research revealed that though my dad worked at an office in New Mexico near our home, the corporate headquarters were in Austin, Texas. I left New Mexico without a backward glance . . ..

  Now, I was a girl without a family, home, school or job. My sole purpose was to clear my dad’s name, so I could go back, finish school and put this whole nightmare behind me. But it seemed in order to wake from this nightmare, I’d need to dive headfirst into a bigger nightmare, complete with monsters and boogey men. I’d thought it was a sign when I found a flier seeking young, ambitious women who desired to build a network of connections with influential men in various fields. In my research, I’d discovered my main suspect was a frequent client of the company doing the hiring.

  Vampires had been part of the world for as long as I could remember. I just didn’t know any. And I certainly never imagined I’d consider selling myself to one.

  My crazy idea was that I’d apply for a job there. Hopefully, I’d be able to get close to Victor Suarez and gather information proving my dad didn’t steal the money and make some money myself while I was at it. My understanding from speaking with other girls who’d worked for B.I.T.-10 was that the money I could make would easily cover my senior year’s tuition.

  But now sitting on this bench, I wasn’t so sure I could sell myself to Victor. I’d heard he wasn’t kind. Could I endure a night with him in order to clear my dad’s name?

  I stood and paced the sidewalk, hoping the motion would bring clarity to the storm which was raging in my mind. Drawing a deep breath, I looked at my phone and saw it was nearly time to head back for my rescheduled appointment. The time had come to make a decision.

  I stiffened my spine and decided I could sell myself to a monster for one night if it brought me closer to exonerating my dad and achieving my own dreams. With purpose, I walked back into the sleek glass building. I strode past the receptionist’s desk to the elevator. Stabbing the button for the tenth floor, I took a few calming breaths.

  The ride up seemed to take forever. I pondered the irony that I was riding up into hell rather than descending into it. Before I could chase that thought with doubts, the doors slid open to deposit me into a lobby decorated in red and black.

  “May I help you, miss?” a pretty receptionist asked as she fingered the scarf tied around her neck.

  “My name’s Celesta Winston, and I have an appointment which was rescheduled for four o’clock.”

  “Ms. Thomas will be with you in a moment.”

  I sat in a soft leather chair as I waited. My eyes wandered over to the artwork scattered around the lobby. There were a few nude paintings and several sensual sculptures. This place gave off a carnal feel. One painting in particular caught my eye. I stood to get a closer look at it. It featured a beautiful man with amber eyes and dark hair locked in an embrace with a feminine form with honey-colored hair. The passion captured with each brush stroke raised my heart rate. The hair and eyes of the painted man reminded me vaguely of the man I ran into earlier outside.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?” a sultry voice behind me asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  I turned to see an incredibly sexy woman. I swallowed hard. “Yes, it is.”

  “You must be Celesta. I’m Circe Thomas. Come with me.”

  Though her voice was soft, there was no doubt there was no room to argue with her. I followed with minimal hesitation.

  Her office was elegant and fit her perfectly. The large tinted windows let in filtered sunlight, which danced across the plush carpet. My gaze wandered, taking in the smooth metal desk, the leather couch, the upholstered upright chairs and more sensual paintings on the walls.

  “Sit,” the command was abrupt.

  I sat in an upright chair on the left while she settled in the one next to it. The positioning was meant to put me at ease, but it didn’t. Her nearness made me nervous.

  “So, tell me why you wish to work for Bishop, Ingelheim and Thomas’s Company 10?”

  My rehearsed answer fell from my lips. “Well, as you know from my email, I have one more year of college left before I’ll have my marketing degree. My father passed away not too long ago. The rest of my college fund went to pay his . . . debts. Pretty much all of his assets are gone. I needed to find a way to make enough money to pay a year’s tuition by the deadline to register. I saw your flier and thought I might find a well-paying job with you and make some contacts who could help me when I’m done with school.”

  “I’m sorry about your father. Many of my girls use the money they make in order to fund their education, so your need is not unusual. But are you certain you’ll be able to fulfill your obligations to the contract?” She peered at me with interest.

  “Well, I’m not sure I totally understand all that working for you entails. Could you explain the process to me? Your website was kind of vague on details.”

  “Of course. You know B.I.T.-10 caters to wealthy, influential vampires. They work in all areas—design, development, research, entertainment, technology, and more. Many of them prefer to not deal with the stickiness of relationships and dating.” Her lip curled in distaste.

  “Dating?” I interrupted, leaning forward anxiously. “I thought these men had jobs they needed to fill?”

  “Of course. B.I.T.-10 specifically seeks clients who can provide more than monetary compensation to the girls in our employ. Our clients pay the girls they contract through experience in useful fields, help them make contacts, networking . . . and the like. On a few occasions, they’ve even hired the girl for a long-term, permanent position. There are many other enterprises like ours which only offer their girls money in exchange for satisfying the hungers of their vampire clients. We value our employees, so we want more for them.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  She continued, “Anyway, once a girl is hired by us, we make her over, then create a file with information and photos. A client comes in and goes through the files. If he likes her file, he submits a proposal with what he has to offer in addition to money, the monetary compensation he’s willing to pay and the duration of the contract. I present the offer to the girl, and she can accept or reject the offer. If she accepts the offer, upon payment, thirty-five percent of the monetary compensation goes to B.I.T.-10.”

  “What does a typical contract look like? I mean, how long is it, how much is the compensation, and what are the expectations?” I asked nervously.

  She reached out and pressed a manicured finger against my chin, releasing my lower lip from my teeth. “No need to be nervous. I wouldn’t let you sign without making sure you fully understood the details. I pride myself in making sure all my girls are happy with their terms and are kept safe. Now to answer your questions. The contract length can range from a couple of hours to a week. The typical payment can be anywhere from $2,000 to $10,000. They would expect you to perform whatever tasks they require for you to gain the experience from the contract. They would also expect to be able to . . . sample you.” She smoothed her palms over her skirt nonchalantly.

  My mouth dropped open in astonishment. “S-sample me?”

  “Yes, drink your blood, not drain you of course. But most vampires enjoy blood from a willing, breathing donor as opposed to a bag or bottle.”

  I swallowed hard. I expected as much. “OK.”

  “They’ll also expect you to meet their sexual needs.”

  I blanched at her statement. I’d heard rumors that sex was part of the contract. I just thought it was an exaggeration. I swallowed hard and whispered, “They would want to have sex with me?”

  She chuckled. “Of course, dear. Sex enhances the flavor of the blood. For vampires, the two desires go hand in hand, though the experience is hardly a hardship on the donor. It’ll be more pleasure than you could ever imagine. All vampires have the power to deliver unspeakable bliss to their partners, and they can prolong it in a way no mere human ever could. Even the vampires whose sexual appetites run to exo
tic tastes and desires make the whole event pleasurable for everyone participating. Despite their reputation, vampires can be very giving lovers. Of course, the greater your pleasure, the better you taste, so it’s a win-win for all involved.”

  I was silent for a long moment. Sex and blood. The rumors were true. Could I give up both for the first time ever in exchange for a few thousand dollars and the chance to gain information that could clear Dad’s name?

  As I contemplated the prospect, Circe continued with her explanation, “Condoms would be used during intercourse, of course.”

  That statement gave me pause. “Why? I thought vampires couldn’t get pregnant or impregnate, and had super healing abilities, so STDs aren’t an issue.”

  “Correct on both accounts. However, an exchange of those bodily fluids between a human and a vampire would bond the two together. B.I.T.-10 doesn’t want its employees bound in that manner because it complicates future contracts. Also, most vampires prefer to avoid the clinginess that results from the mixing of fluids.” She waved her hand dismissively.

  “Is this legal? Not that I’d turn you in or anything. I just really can’t afford any more trouble in my life right now.” I chewed on my lips, halfway wishing I could pull the words back.

  Circe studied me critically for a long moment. “Of course, it’s legal. B.I.T.-10 is a registered member of the vampire service industry. We go through random inspections and have many rules we must abide by. But the government allows this sort of exchange for vampires in an effort to thwart the desires of vampires to take either blood or sex by force anymore. By giving them a safe, legal option, the government gets to control the industry and protect humans. Not to mention they get a piece of this very lucrative pie,” Circe explained.

  With a deep sigh, I straightened my spine and forced myself to be brave. “OK. So, if I do this, it could be weeks before someone puts an offer in on my file?” That would give me time to adjust to the idea.

  “Normally, yes, but your timing is quite fortuitous. We’re hosting a gala tomorrow night where all of our available girls will be presented to a select group of clients. Interested clients will put in their offers tomorrow night at ten. I’ll present each girl with her offers, then she’ll select the offer she likes and go home with the client.” She sat back, seeming quite pleased at the possibility of solving my problems so quickly.

  My hands grew clammy at the thought of potentially meeting Victor tomorrow. “T-tomorrow? I couldn’t possibly . . . I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to a gala.”

  “My dear, we’ll supply all of your clothes, shoes, and accessories—anything you might need while you’re representing B.I.T.-10.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” I wiped my hands along my jeans.

  “Do you wish to come work for B.I.T.-10?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Yes,” I answered with more conviction than I felt.

  Her eyes lit up at my answer, and she rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Excellent. I think several of our clients will vie for a contract with you.” She reached for a clipboard on her desk. “I need to gather some information from you.”

  “OK.”

  “I already have your name and contact information. I also have noted that you have one year left before you’re done with your marketing degree. You recently moved here from New Mexico. Now for the stuff that matters. What’s your blood type?” The pen clicked, ready to record my answers.

  “AB negative.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “The rarest of all blood types. That’ll definitely raise your value. Have you ever been tasted before?”

  I swallow thickly. “You mean has a vampire ever drank my blood? No, never.” I shook my head vehemently.

  “Even better, an untasted rare blood type. They’ll go wild for you. How about sexual experience?” Glee danced across her face.

  I frowned at her question. “What about sexual experience?”

  “How much do you have?”

  “Um . . . not much. Is that a problem?” Damn sweaty palms. I rubbed them against the denim once more.

  “For some vampires, yes. They don’t like to hold back, or shall we say, train their partners,” she explained simply.

  My face fell.

  She hurried to continue, “But for some vampires, they really enjoy the thrill of giving pleasure to someone who hasn’t experienced much sexual fulfillment. In today’s world, it’s rare to find young women who aren’t very experienced. The rarity is enticing to some, and I’m quite certain you’ll get several offers at the gala.”

  Inhale. Exhale. “OK. So, what’s next?”

  “Sign here.” She pointed to the blank line at the bottom of an official document.

  I quickly read through the terms of employment, then I scrawled my name at the bottom of the employment agreement.

  She took the paper from me and got to her feet. “I need to see you.”

  What was she talking about? She’d seen me ever since she came out of her office. What more was there to see?

  “Stand up.” Her hand motioned to me.

  I quickly stood, clasping my hands behind my back.

  “Undress,” she said in a clipped tone.

  “W-what? Why?” My forehead furrowed as I tried to make sense of the order to strip. Was this some sort of test to see if I could follow direction?

  “Your body is employed by me and sold as part of the contract . . . I need to see what I’m offering our clients.”

  When she put it that I way, I supposed it made sense. I pulled off my sweater and tossed it onto the chair. Then I stepped out of my shoes and slipped down my jeans.

  She walked around me, eyes roaming up and down my body. It made me self-conscious. I crossed my arms over my breasts. She trailed her hands down my side to rest on my right hip.

  “Is this your only tattoo?” she asked, indicating the red heart inked on my hipbone.

  “Yes.”

  She made a note on my information sheet. She then dragged her hand down to my thigh. “Strong thighs. Good. They’ll help you hold on tight,” she stated with a smirk.

  She walked behind me and squeezed my butt cheeks. “Slightly firm but still soft enough to grip tight. They’ll love that.”

  She came back around to the front and ran her fingers through my hair. “Nice.”

  I tried not to feel objectified as she catalogued each of my physical features.

  Her hand trailed down my chest and unlinked my arms to reveal my breasts. She gave them each a squeeze, causing my nipples to react.

  “Real breasts that are firm and responsive. A definite plus. Do you wax?”

  “You mean my eyebrows?”

  “No.” Her eyes flicked down to indicate where she was talking about.

  “No, I don’t wax down there. I just trim.” There hadn’t been any need for more maintenance than that.

  She made another note on her clipboard. “We’ll get that taken care of immediately.”

  She stepped to her desk and pressed a button on her phone. A chipper voice answered, “Yes, Ms. Thomas?”

  “I’m sending my new girl, Celesta, down there in about thirty minutes or so. She needs a full work up—buffed, waxed, conditioned . . . you know, the works,” she barked.

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be ready.”

  She ended that call before I could process what was happening and initiated another call. “Jacque, please come in here with your measuring tape.”

  Someone was coming in? I was still undressed, and I instinctively reached for my jeans.

  “Leave them off. The measurements will be more accurate if there aren’t any interfering fabric layers. And your gown for tomorrow will need to fit like a second layer of skin.”

  The knob turned and in strolled a man who exuded charisma. He had spiky, blond hair, and his eyebrow was pierced. His clothes were high-end and made a bold statement with a mixture of hot pink and black.

  He immediately began to measure the length of my ar
ms, the width of my shoulders, my bust, my hips, my legs, even my feet. He jotted them all down. He was making me nervous, handling me like a doll and not speaking.

  He looked at Ms. Thomas and said, “I’m thinking a shimmery cobalt or plum. With her hair and skin tone though, she could pull off a light green or a bright yellow. And, of course, red.”

  “Arrange for some in each color. Cocktail and evening. Also, some blouses, jeans, skirts and shoes.” He noted them in his notepad as she ticked off each item.

  “You’re thinking she’ll get a contract for more than a night?” The pen tapped against the surface of the pad of paper.

  “She’s an untasted AB negative.”

  Understanding dawned on his face. “Say no more. I’ll get to work right now.” He looked me in the eyes then said, “I’ll make you look stunning. You’ll knock ‘em dead tomorrow night.” He laughed at his slip of the tongue. “Come see me tomorrow at one and we’ll begin.” Then he swept out the door in a dramatic fashion. “Come, my dear, let’s go get you polished.” She handed me a plush robe to put on. I moved to grab my clothes and shoes.

  “Leave them. You can get them when you’re done.”

  I followed her to the end of the hallway to a door marked spa. When I entered, soothing music filled my ears, and a mixture of pleasing scents filled my nose.

  “Sandra, this is Celesta. Shine her up nicely for us.” She urged me forward.

  “Like a diamond,” Sandra promised as she put her hand on the small of my back and led me down a long hallway.

  “I’ll see you when you’re done,” Ms. Thomas called to me.

  Before I could reply, the door swung shut behind her.

  “We’ll start with a hair treatment. We can work on the other areas while the treatment sits in your hair,” Sandra explained as she fingered my dark tresses.

  She ushered me to a normal salon-style sink. I closed my eyes as she massaged a wonderful smelling concoction into my hair.

  “How long have you worked here, Sandra?”

  “A few years now. Ms. Thomas recruited me from the salon I worked at for ten years. The benefits package was irresistible.”

 

‹ Prev