I shrugged, releasing her hands.
"Why do you call me stark?"
"Do you not understand?"
"I would like to hear you explain."
I studied her. "Am I risking my life to touch you?"
"No."
I took her arm and pulled her to the mirror, wiping an area clear so we could look together. Then I realized I couldn't see her reflection.
"I'm an idiot."
She laughed.
"You can't see."
"No. I have not seen my reflection in a very, very long time."
"Paintings?"
"None in, well, several of your lifetimes, and they were created to please me. I am unable to judge their accuracy."
"My current lifespan?"
"Your expected lifespan, assuming you live to a ripe, old age."
I turned to her. She was watching me in the mirror. "We both know that's not going to happen."
"We are having a civil conversation," she replied. "Perhaps it will happen."
I looked at the blood on her blouse. "Even your clothing doesn't appear in the mirror."
"No."
"If you pick something up?"
"It appears to float in air. Don't ask me to explain it. No one can. Something about bending light, but there isn't even a shimmer. Please, why do you call me stark?"
"Face me," I told her. When she did, I said, "I speak with my hands when describing sculpture." She nodded, and I stepped closer. I took her hands. "Your hands are long and delicate." I turned them over. "You were young when you were turned."
"Yes. Nineteen."
"You look-"
"Older than that? How old. You cannot offend me with the truth."
"You carry yourself as someone far older, with confidence," I said. "That is at contrast with your features. You look perhaps twenty-five."
"A good age," she said.
I reached for her face, and she held still. "Who does your makeup."
"Penny did."
"And you can't see it."
"No. Has she made me unattractive?"
"She perhaps feels you should appear stark. It may be that someone else would give you a different appearance."
"You haven't explained."
"All right. Through here," and I touched her cheeks, "your skin is very pale and almost translucent. She has sharpened your eyes." I ran my fingers over them lightly, and she closed her eyes for a moment. "Your hair. Hmm."
Her hair was dark where mine was light. I turned to the mirror and attempted to fashion my hair, just using my hands, to look somewhat like hers.
"Not exactly like this," I said, "but somewhat."
She turned me to face her.
"That is a little severe."
"Perhaps she feels you are severe, and it fits you," I said. "Your lips are bright red. Did you know?"
"I have seen the cosmetics she uses. She would wear the same color to show me."
"The color fit her better than it does you," I replied. "And she has made your lips appear as narrow as possible. There is a sharp contrast between your lips and the rest of your face."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Not ugly. Not hideous. A little frightening. But stark. Like a black and white film where only your lips have been colorized and nothing else. Your skin isn't sepia, and it certainly isn't white, but it lacks life."
I shut my mouth and clamped my hand over it. But she smiled and pulled my hand out of the way.
"You are perfectly able to insult me when you wish, but I am not going to grow angry for that comment, Melissa."
"Did you want to see?"
"A photograph doesn't work, either, nor do we appear in digital reproductions."
"Paper and pencils? Am I earning such a privilege?"
She laughed. "I do not know if I will leave them with you yet. You would draw me?"
"Sketch, unless you intended to sit for the duration of the evening."
She led the way to my bedroom and turned to the door. She turned around. "I failed to lock the door earlier."
"I decided I had nowhere to go."
"I could track you."
"I could not decide whether you were bluffing, but even if you were not, I could never allow someone to take the risk of sheltering me, and I lack the skills to live in the wilds. With this face, I can't exactly blend in."
"You could have chosen to make mischief."
"If you forgot once, you'll forget again."
She smiled. "You may come with me, but if you do, you will be leashed. Or you may remain here."
I frowned. "And here we were, getting along so well."
"I am not being capricious," she said. "I am, however, a vampire, and there are things you need to understand about that. These are the things I wanted to talk about, but now I am intrigued by your offer to draw me."
"If I submit to the leash, will I earn privileges for it?"
"Perhaps. You will at least visit other settings."
"Naked, for your household staff to laugh and stare."
"They will neither laugh nor stare. They may not even see. I have made them very frightened of me, and I have given them permission to hide from me."
Suddenly I felt badly, and I looked down, ashamed. "Did you hurt them?"
"Not in any of the ways you fear," she replied. "I drank from them, but I drink from them often. I was not gentle, but they are accustomed to my moods. You are not responsible for anyone being hurt."
"Penny-"
"Penny is responsible for what happened to Penny. I could not have been more clear, and she knows how fiercely possessive I am."
The vampire stepped forward and lifted my chin. "I will allow you to wait for me here if you wish, but it would please me if you would come with me."
"Were you angry with me for Penny?"
"I was angry with both of you, but I knew it was not your fault any more than the accident was your fault. If you had been convenient, you would probably have also needed a transfusion, but it would have been wrong."
"And my being here? Is that wrong?"
"We will discuss that."
"Isn't it a simple question with a simple answer?"
"It would appear to be," she replied. She paused. "Melissa, it is not my intention to abuse you. You will be treated in a fashion you would never have expected would happen to you, but I do not intend to abuse you. Will you give me the benefit of the doubt, if only for the evening?"
"Are you going to drink from me tonight?"
"It is my intention to sample from you daily. So yes, that is my intention. Are you going to make me angry?"
"Why must you leash me?"
"That also seems like a simple question with a simple answer."
"Why are you giving me a choice?"
She smiled. "Another example of questions that are not easily answered."
"Would you answer if I insisted?"
"Yes, but I am going to ask you to be patient. I would like you to do your drawing before the evidence of Penny's touches to my features fade any further."
I smiled. "Do you believe I would forget? I could draw you a year from now, at least well enough to explain what I mean when I call you striking but stark."
"I would like it tonight. Please."
"I have a choice?" I asked.
"Yes. I cannot make you draw, and even if I could, I cannot make you draw accurately."
"I would like to draw." I looked around. "And not here."
She smiled and stepped out of the room then returned a half moment later holding the leash. "Come here."
I walked straight to her.
"I need you to kneel."
"Why?"
"Another of your questions not easily answered."
I lowered myself to my knees in front of her and bent my head, but she lifted my chin before attaching the leash. She caressed my cheek and smiled at me.
"Thank you," she said. "I am sorry."
And then she tugged upward on the chain, pulling on m
y lip, and I quickly rose. She strode from the room, dragging me by the leash, and I hurried after her, trying to relieve the pressure. She knew what she was doing, maintaining a constant pressure on my lip, holding the chain in a fashion I couldn't just step closer to her hand, as the chain was draped over her shoulder, and I would have to walk into her. Even when I tried leaning forward to reduce the pressure, she simply pulled tighter, her control nearly perfect.
We didn't proceed very far down the hall. Whereas I had the last door at the end of the hall, she had the first door, and that is where she led me. She stepped to the door, pushed it open, then pulled me inside. Once I was standing in the center of the room, she stopped and reduced the pressure on my lip.
When she turned to face me, her fangs protruded from her partly opened mouth and her eyes were lidded. She stood still, looking at me for a moment before slowly the fangs retracted. Then it was as if she shook herself, almost like a dog fresh from the water.
"I should have more control than that," she said. "I have fed deeply. You do that to me."
"I don't understand."
"You're not going to like this. Foreplay."
I stared at her, not saying a word.
"You are a trial to my self control."
"Perhaps you should build a studio for me and lock me in for a year before letting me go. Then I won't tempt you."
She laughed.
"Can't blame me for trying," I muttered.
"Believe me," she said, "if I could bring myself to do that, I would. And don't ask. It's complicated."
She gestured to her room. "Is there somewhere here you would like me to sit? Or perhaps you would like to visit the other choices in the house."
"I was only offering a sketch tonight."
"Perhaps you will become inspired."
"If we are to have a civilized conversation, would it be possible for me to call you by your name?"
"My name is Lady Dunn," she replied.
"How did you acquire the title?"
She smiled. "Inherited."
"It's not a vampire affectation?"
"Not in my case, no."
"So you will not share your first name with me?"
"My first name is a privilege you have not yet earned."
"Said the mistress to the slave."
"Said the lady to the commoner, perhaps."
"This is America. We have neither ladies nor commoners."
"You do in this house."
"So I should be kneeling?"
"Perhaps, but I am not sure how much control I will retain if you do, so perhaps best not. Seeing my leash from your lip is about as much as I can handle right now."
"Perhaps if you allowed me your first name, it would help your self control."
"Perhaps if I allowed you my first name, I would be assuming a much, much closer relationship than you care for with a vampire."
I gulped. "Oh."
"Now you understand?"
I nodded.
She glanced around her room. "I have materials for you."
"Materials?"
"Paper. Pencils. The other tools of your craft. They are not in this room. You will remain here while I retrieve them. You will open nothing that is closed, but you may build a place for us to each sit. If you wish props of some sort, you may request them when I return."
"All right."
She released the chain, allowing it to hang. I gathered it in my hands so it didn't pull with its weight against my lip. She watched me for a moment then shook herself again.
"Melissa, my control is ragged tonight. If you snoop, it will snap. I would not kill you, but you would not like my response. Because you have been warned, the fault would be yours, not mine."
"I will open nothing that is closed," I said. "Or should I sit quietly?"
"No. That is a good rule."
And then like that, she was gone, the door closing gently behind her.
I looked around the room. It was large and well furnished, with an exquisite four-poster bed at one end. I moved to look. The headboard was carved and was made of rich woods, and it was old, very old. The posts looked like trees, and the scene on the headboard was of the forest.
It was stunning.
"Move away from the bed," Lady Dunn ordered, and I backed away slowly, finally turning to face her.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't touch."
"It gives me ideas," she said, and her fangs were barely visible.
"Is this normal?" I asked, gesturing to her face.
"No. I told you, I am ragged, and I do not trust myself with you tonight, but we need this conversation, and I believe letting you draw me would help us both."
"Letting?"
"Are we going to worry about semantics? With all your reasons to be angry, are you going to let it be over the choice of words we use?"
My lips curled upwards for a moment. "I suppose that's pretty small in the scheme of things."
She pointed to the sofa table, another exquisite piece of furniture in place behind, of course, the sofa. Sitting on the table was a sketchpad and a new set of pencils with all the tools for sharpening them.
"This room is lovely," I said. "May I ask the time?"
"Not yet eleven."
I looked around then asked, "Will you grow weary standing near the window for a time?"
"Of course not."
I crossed the room and picked up the pencils.
"Why do you have these?"
"I sent someone for them yesterday."
"Before we even met?"
She nodded.
"They're for me?"
"Yes."
"What else did your servant obtain for me?"
"Everything."
"You can't mean that literally."
"If you continue to earn privileges, you will see."
I opened the pencils and other packages and began to prepare the pencils for use. It took time. She watched carefully, not speaking.
"I thought this was a conversation."
"I didn't want to distract you."
"Unless you touch me or seek to frighten me, you won't. When I am drawing your mouth, I will ask you to remain still. I will ask you to otherwise be reasonably still."
Once the pencils were ready, I told her, "There will be graphite fragments. This is very fine furniture."
"I will not punish you."
"It would be criminal to damage your chairs, but I cannot draw standing up, not without an easel, and I do not like to sketch at an easel, anyway."
"Remain here."
She was gone only seconds, returning with the wooden chair from my bedroom "Where do you want it?"
"Facing the window," I said. "I'll end up moving it anyway."
She set the chair down, and I followed her around the sofa, setting the pad and pencils on top of the chair.
"Here," I said, standing where I wanted her, then moved out of the way. She took a place posted at the corner of the window. "May I touch you?"
"Yes. In private, when it is only the two of us, you do not need to ask. At no other times will you even ask."
I nodded understanding.
"That answer may change," she added. "And be careful tonight. I am on edge. Do not be too familiar."
I stepped away, studying her.
"Please take a stance that feels natural to you, one you can hold for an extended duration. Lean against the wall if it feels natural, or set your hand on the window sill if you need to."
She adjusted very slightly, standing in a stiff position, halfway turned to the window. Then she nodded.
"This is natural for you?"
"Yes."
She was standing at the left side of the window, facing partway to the window, a partial profile from her right. Her right hand hung stiffly at her side, the left poised upon the windowsill. Her feet were shoulder width apart. She wore the soiled blouse, belted slacks, and pumps.
"Does the blood on your blouse distract you?"
"Yes. I shoul
d have changed. I was making a point."
"Can you stand it?"
"Yes. It's fine."
"All right, but I want to soften this a little. This is too stark. I want you to move your right hand here." I touched my fingers to the top of my chest, just where a pendant necklace might hang. She moved her hand into place. I moved the hand slightly. Then I adjusted her head slightly, turning out to face where I intended to sit.
"Now, if you need a break, say so, but remember where your hands are touching and where you are looking. Pick a spot and stare at it if you need to."
And with that, she became utterly still.
No one is ever that still. We breathe, we shift our weight as we become uncomfortable. She didn't even blink. She could have been a statue. It was frightening.
"Why did your heart rate just increase?"
"You can hear that?"
"Yes. You need to calm down. If you can't calm down, I need you to walk slowly and casually to your room and close the door."
I moved slowly away from her. "Lady Dunn, can you talk to me? And it's okay if you move a little when you do so."
She licked her lips, then said, "You had questions. What is your most pressing?"
"How about an easy one? You said I cost a great deal. What do you consider a great deal."
"Two point four million dollars."
"What!" I exclaimed.
"Calm down, Melissa, or leave. Please."
I turned away from her and took in several slow breaths. I set my own hand on my chest and willed my heart to slow.
"Will you be able to hold it together for a few minutes while I begin to draw? Drawing will relax me."
"If I ask you to leave again, you must set everything down and slowly but casually walk to your room. Do not run. Do not hurry."
I moved to the chair, collecting the pencils and pad then sat down. I crossed my leg and propped the pad over it. I'd never drawn while naked before, not even when drawing the occasional old boyfriend. Or girlfriend.
I'm an artist. We're flexible.
"Tell me a story that is likely to calm both of us," I told her.
"Pick a year."
"Um. I don't know. 1642."
"A sad year. Galileo Galilei died that year."
"How do you know that?"
"I was at his funeral."
I stared at her.
"Have you never talked to a vampire before?"
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