Blood That Binds: A Vampire Romance (Blood Legends Duet)

by Melissa Winters

  Days have gone by and I haven’t seen anyone or heard anyone. Dehydration is setting in. I’m no longer wetting myself, and if I don’t get fluids soon, I will die. My muscles ache and I keep slipping in and out of consciousness.

  “Why aren’t they bringing us food?” I say aloud, as if there is anyone to hear me.

  “They will,” a small broken voice says from the cell next to me.

  I bolt upright, finding strength I didn’t think I had.

  “Wh-who’s there?” I stutter.

  “They have to keep us alive.”

  “Wh-who’s saying that?”

  The girl doesn’t answer my questions. She just continues talking, her voice hollow.

  “They’re gonna sell us.”

  “What?” My scratchy throat barely allows me to say the word.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? We’re being trafficked.”

  My blood runs cold and my entire body begins to quiver.

  “Oh, God,” I cry out, voice hoarse.

  “Shh. They’ll hear you.”

  “Who?” my voice asks shakily.

  “Them. The men with red eyes.”

  I freeze at her words, decade’s worth of memories flooding my mind. Red eyes. Glowing.

  Monsters.

  “What red eyes?” I grip the bars so tightly my forearms ache. “What are you talking about?” I yell, desperate for her to start talking. They can’t be here.

  She turns her head toward me.

  “They’re not human,” she whispers.

  I jerk away from the cell. Her dead eyes look right through me.

  “What?”

  Her head turns away from me, and that’s when I notice the bite marks on her shoulder.

  “What happened to you?” I bellow. Her hands fly to her collarbone, shielding her wound.

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, pet,” a frighteningly low voice speaks from the entrance of her cell.

  She scampers backwards, but I sit frozen in place, taking in the tall, ghostly man in front of me. My eyes widen, and a chill runs down my spine at the evil standing in front of me.

  “Let me see your neck,” the man roars angrily at the fragile-looking girl.

  I cower at his ire, whimpering pathetically as we both shield ourselves from the man. I finally will myself to slink back as far away from him as possible.

  “Ramsey!” the man yells. “Get in here.”

  Another man approaches, his footsteps heavy and echoing off the walls.

  “Stop the screaming, Sarcos. These walls aren’t that thick,” he chuckles.

  “What the hell happened to her neck?”

  “How should I know?” He raises his hands like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  “You and I are the only ones cleared to be down here.” He glares in Ramsey’s direction. “If I didn’t touch her, that only leaves you. Now . . . what did you do?” His voice is lethal.

  Ramsey seems to notice the seriousness of the situation and he stands up taller, so he looks down at the man he calls Sarcos.

  “I did whatever I wanted to do, S. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “If the Crown gets wind of this, we’ll be dead. You know we aren’t to touch the donors.”

  Crown? Donors?

  “Bah, the new Crown is soft. He doesn’t know the first thing about keeping us all sated. I take what I want.”

  The sound of the girl’s door opening shakes away my questions about the man’s strange words. Seconds later, an overhead light illuminates the area in bright white. I rub my eyes to clear the stars caused by the intense light. My hands lower and finally, for the first time since I’ve been down in this dungeon, I can see everything clearly. The man who must be Sarcos saunters toward the small girl and begins to examine her, lifting her hand and watching it drop limply to her side. When he seems to be satisfied with his inspection, he goes to leave.

  “She’ll live,” he says to Ramsey.

  At that very moment, the girl springs forward, knocking Sarcos over the head with a metal water bowl. He’s momentarily dazed, giving her the benefit of a head start. It doesn’t last long, and in a matter of seconds he’s behind her, grabbing her neck and lifting her off the ground.

  I shriek in fear of what’s to come, biting my lip so hard that the tang of copper coats my tongue. The events that occur in the moments after leave me paralyzed. She screams as the man bites into her neck, taking a chunk out of her skin. His mouth forms to the original wound and he gulps her blood greedily, lowering her body to the ground and feasting on her flesh until she’s no longer moving. Screams of terror burst through my shock. I’m shaking violently, my hands over my mouth smothering my screams.

  Make it go away. Make it go away.

  I repeat the words over and over in my mind.

  All the nightmares of my childhood come together in one horrifying moment.

  This isn’t real.

  I try desperately to convince myself, like all the times before, that it’s all in my imagination, but this time, the visions aren’t vanishing. No matter how many times I blink, the monster in front of me won’t disappear.

  “Enough, Sarcos. I don’t want a mess to clean up,” Ramsey chuckles.

  The man stands, wiping his mouth to rid it of the girl’s blood.

  “You won’t find a drop of blood,” he says snidely. “Now . . . go get food and water for the other. This was your fault, after all.” Ramsey mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t argue.

  With that, they both turn and walk out, leaving her body to taunt me.

  “H-hello,” I whisper, hoping like hell she’ll answer me. She doesn’t. Nobody could survive what I just witnessed. She’s dead, and I’m alone again.

  I lie down on the cold, hard ground and wait for whatever’s to come. My will to live slips away minute by minute. Tears no longer come, and even the shaking has stopped. Numbness envelops me like a security blanket.

  I walk slowly down the deserted hallway, leading the gurney carrying Maggie’s body to the morgue. The grey walls close in on me as the black-and-white-checkered floors seem to vibrate under my feet. My pace remains slow and steady. I’m in no hurry to deliver my sister to the coroner. The thin white sheet that covers her body begins to slip away and I don’t even try to stop it. It’s as though I’m frozen and the only function I’m capable of is walking. My eyes lower and widen when they see Maggie’s pallid skin.

  I want to reach out and stroke her cheek, like I used to when we were kids and she was scared. But I don’t. I can’t. I have to continue moving forward.

  When we get to a large metal door, my feet stop. I walk around the side of the gurney to open the door, but before I get there, a cold hand grips my elbow. I stiffen, looking over my shoulder, but no one is there. My body pivots toward the gurney and when my eyes lower, they meet Maggie’s. They’re open and penetrating.

  “They’re coming for you, Marina. Run.”

  When I wake hours later, I’m still lying in the fetal position, shaking and cold. The disturbing dream I had left me even more frightened. My thirst is beginning to wear on me, and so are the millions of unanswered questions filtering through my head. Will I ever see the light of day again? Do I even care at this point? My mind wages a war against itself. One part wants to give up, while the other is screaming for me to survive.

  The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall has me pulling myself to a seated position. I watch as Ramsey drags the girl’s lifeless body down the long corridor. Not a drop of blood is anywhere to be seen. He drained her. Sarcos approaches my cell. I whimper in fear as he nears. I slam my eyes shut, not wanting to see what happens next. The door opens and closes very quickly. I dare a peek, and my body sags in relief upon realizing the man brought food and water and is now gone.

  I scramble toward the water and gulp greedily as it trickles down my chin. Within seconds I’ve drained the container, moaning at the need for more. It was barely e
nough to wet my dry mouth. My eyes catch the plate of mush, and without thinking I shovel it in. It’s not long before I am retching in the corner, having eaten too fast and too much. The smell of my own vomit causes dry heaves to wreak havoc on my body. I swipe at my mouth and cringe at the vomit coating my hands.

  The creaking of my door has me looking over my shoulders. I gasp at the pale man hovering over me. His eyes seem to glow red and I freeze.

  “You should eat slowly. The next time I won’t clean up your mess.” He growls, throwing a bucket of water over top of the vomit.

  Another pail of water is placed in my cell, and he leaves. This time I sip slowly, hoping that my stomach can handle the contents. Hours tick by in the quiet of the dungeon. One could lose their mind in this silence. I’m forced to sit in this cell alone, replaying the horrific events of the girl’s death over and over again in my head. He bit her.

  She was drained of blood, just like all of the people from my nightmares growing up. My body shivers as I recall the girl’s words from earlier.

  They’re not human.

  I’ve been without food and water for so long, I’m hallucinating. Maybe none of that really happened? Perhaps it’s my suppressed memories from a traumatic childhood resurfacing and playing tricks.

  It happened. Keep your head down and remain quiet. You’ll be okay.

  The voice in my head sounds like Maggie’s.

  “Maggie?” I say quietly.

  It’ll be okay, Marina.

  I go to sleep that night tired, defeated, and utterly heartbroken. It’s not normal to hear your missing sister in your head. Maggie and I had a bond that transcended this world. We both saw things that others said didn’t exist. We both felt the presence of things not of this world, yet telepathy was not something we shared. If Maggie is dead, I have no doubt she’d try to contact me from the netherworld. I’m hearing Maggie’s voice in my head, which leads me to conclude they were all right.

  She’s dead.

  Chapter Four

  I don’t know how much time has passed since I’ve seen another person. It could be days, weeks, or only hours, but a commotion at the end of the hall has me springing to my feet and pressing my head to the bars. Girls of all ages, ethnicities, and sizes are brought down in chains. Some are crying, others shouting, and a few hanging their heads in defeat. I watch as they’re herded one by one into individual cells. The doors clank shut heavily behind them. The soft cries of my new companions are abnormally comforting.

  A psst from the cell next to mine has my back straightening.

  “Where are we?” a girl who looks to be around my age demands.

  Angry, swollen welts pepper the girl’s dark skin.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I fought those bastards when they first grabbed me.” Her voice is hard. “When I broke free, they threw some type of whip that coiled around my arm. It hurt so bad. I couldn’t get away.” Tears pool in her eyes, but she wipes them away harshly. “What do they want with us?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  We sit in silence for several minutes. The days of solitude have left me even more awkward than normal. I want to ask questions. I want to talk, but I can’t find the right words. I’m just about to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when she finally breaks the silence.

  “Where are you from?” she asks.

  “Liberty,” I reply, hoping to hell I don’t have to elaborate on that.

  “Liberty?” she questions, and my hope begins to sink. It is a small town; perhaps she’s just not familiar with that part of the state.

  “Yeah, you know,” I begin, voice shaky. “Small town Ohio.”

  She sucks in a deep breath. “I’m from Santa Fe.”

  My stomach drops at her words. Despite my worry, I’ve been hoping I was wrong.

  “New Mexico?”

  She nods.

  Oh God, we could be anywhere.

  “Do you know any of the other girls?” I ask, hoping we can piece something together.

  “No. After I was taken, I woke up in the back of a van. There were two other girls with me. One of them was asking a lot of questions and causing a stir. They killed her.” She hangs her head sadly. “The other girl isn’t here, from what I can tell.”

  “They killed the girl that was previously in your cell too.”

  The girl sucks in another breath and I realize I should’ve kept that information to myself. There was no need for her to know the horror I witnessed.

  “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

  I want to lie to her. Tell her that we’re going to be all right. That we’ll get out of here alive. I can’t.

  “I don’t know, but it’s not looking good for us,” I admit reluctantly.

  Despite the earlier edge to the girl next door, she eventually breaks. Her weeping helps me to sleep.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  Craning my head, I count the number of girls I’m currently chained to. Five girls. At some point the two ghastly men dragged us each out of our cells one by one, chaining us together single file. My cell was the last one, so I’m at the back, able to take in the other girls in various stages of distress.

  At the front of the line is a petite Asian girl with a short black stacked bob. Her head is held high, looking straight ahead. Behind her, a frail, mousy brown-haired girl is looking from side to side frantically. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she were searching for an escape. She won’t find one.

  Chained to the mousy girl’s back is a willowy redhead who stands about six feet tall. Her head turns, and my eyes meet hers. I see fear in them that has to match my own.

  Following her is a stout girl with a blond bob who shuffles along, periodically tripping over the chains that bind her feet. Directly in front of me is the Black girl from the cell next to mine. She doesn’t say a word, head hung in defeat. We’re being herded like cattle through a dark maze, the air thick with tension. The morose energy that each of us is emitting makes the feeling of doom intensify. I can imagine that all the girls have the same fear I do—we are being led to our death . . . or worse.

  The concrete walls that surround us twist and turn in a never-ending labyrinth of connected hallways. No doors. No windows. Just empty grey walls that feel like they’re getting narrower by the minute.

  “W-where are we going?” The mousy girl asks our captors.

  “Quiet, girl,” Sarcos growls through his teeth.

  “W-w-why us?” she continues.

  “Stop talking,” the redheaded girl hisses.

  “I would do as your friend here says.” His snake-like voice curls around my spine, sending shivers up and down.

  “I don’t w-want . . . ,” she continues to stutter.

  Everything inside me coils, knowing what’s about to happen. All because she can’t just shut up. Ramsey stops in his tracks, whipping around, stalking toward us. We all go still. Sarcos shoots his hand out, stopping him.

  “We are two donors short already. You need to control yourself.” His eyes glow a brilliant red. I blink several times, but his eyes remain the same. He turns on his accomplice.

  “If she can’t learn to listen to us, she’ll never get out of the auction alive.” My back stiffens at his words. Auction.

  It’s as we feared. We’re going to be sold. My body begins to shake, but Ramsey grabs the chains and pulls, jerking all of us forward. “This is your last warning. You will die in this hall if you say another word.”

  Her head falls forward and she manages to stay quiet the rest of our trek. We veer to the left down another hall, and the right side of the wall gives way to what looks like a communal shower.

  “You will clean yourselves up. There shall be no dirt, vomit, or any other stink left to be found,” Sarcos warns, unlocking the chains shackling our feet and eventually removing the cuffs from our hands. All of us look to each other hesitantly. “Move,” he barks.

  We all obey, filing in and
going to stand under the spouts coming from the wall. Soaps and shampoos line a ledge that spans the shower area. I pick one up, fumbling to open the top. Steeling my hands to stop them from shaking, I bring the bottle to my head, catching a whiff of lavender. I breathe it in, relishing the first fresh smell I’ve encountered in days. No longer caring, I remove every piece of clothing.

  Eagerly, I begin lathering my entire body with the shampoo. Scrubbing at my hair violently, I try desperately to rid myself of the grime and memories from the cell. The fact that I’m naked and surrounded by others doesn’t deter me. I’ve never been more desperate to be clean. Standing under the warm water, I let go of everything. For this one moment, I enjoy a luxury I may never have again.

  “Can I use that?” a familiar voice calls to my right. I look over to see the redhead, finger pointing to the shampoo I’d just used. “The shit at my station was practically gone . . .and it smelled vile. Not like that,” she tilts her chin toward the bottle.

  “Y-yeah, sure,” I said, holding the shampoo out to her.

  “Thanks. Not that I should be trying to smell nice. Whatever asshole pays for me doesn’t deserve it,” she says, venom lacing every word.

  I simply nod, because what the hell else can I say to that?

  “Thanks,” she says, giving me a small smile, before making her way back to her stall. Grabbing the bar of soap, I lather myself up once more. I think about the redhead and wonder what her story is. Where did she come from? Who was she before? It helps me to relax slightly. For a few minutes I’m not thinking about the auction or the horrible red-eyed monsters.

  “Time’s up,” Sarcos yells from the entrance. I don’t bother covering myself. He doesn’t seem interested in our naked forms, for as soon as he’s made his command, he’s gone. Lying on the floor in a pile are hospital gowns. I stiffen. Are we to be examined? I don’t have time to waste on that thought. We all throw the plain blue coverings over ourselves. Anything to cover us from these creatures. Ramsey appears holding handcuffs, ready to bind us again.