I stood and followed her out the door. She pulled me forward until we were walking side-by-side then released the tension on the chain.
"Do you know where you would like to go?"
"Could we start with a tour of the house?"
"Yes, and now I will not allow you to retreat, which you may find tempting when I remind you there are servants about, and I will be unhappy if you cover yourself or attempt to hide from them."
"I cannot say the thought pleases me, but I will be here for three years," I said. "If I am still alive, anyway. I believe I need to grow accustomed." I paused. "I have posed naked for other artists, when I was much younger. I will endeavor to approach it with a similar attitude."
"A very healthy perspective," she said. She tugged once on the chain while stepping forward, and I stayed at her side.
It was a large house, and she kept up a running dialogue as she showed me much of it. We didn't enter every room, of course, but we traveled many of the corridors, and she showed me her office. She had another of my paintings, and when I took a half step towards it, she led me to it. We stood next to each other, looking at the painting.
"How many do you have?"
"Several," she replied. "I rotate them when I wish a fresh view or to otherwise suit my moods."
I touched my face. "How do you know about this?"
"I acquired that piece. We haven't come to it yet."
"So you move them between rooms."
"I have more pieces than I display at any given time. The remainder are in storage. Do not worry; I know how to care for fine art."
I turned towards her. "How many do you have?" I asked quietly. I didn't know I had any collectors. I wasn't really that well known.
"Several," she replied. "That answer is a hint."
"Is it a hint not to press, or a hint to drop the subject entirely?"
"Is your curiosity ever filled?"
"Of course, but I am confused. I didn't believe I had any collectors. I have never done any commissions for you." I looked around. "This home is beautiful. None of these pieces were designed for your home. I don't understand, m'lady."
"And I am not going to explain," she said. "I will say this. I sincerely hope this experience will not destroy your ability to create. I also hope you will grow to trust me and will strive very hard to earn sufficient privileges you can resume painting while you are here."
"Is that why you paid so much for me, because you wanted me to paint for you?"
"No. But I hope that you will."
I studied the painting. It was an early piece, and my immaturity showed. It wasn't one of my favorites.
"Do you have more recent pieces, or only early ones?"
"I have more recent pieces," she said.
"Then why is this one up. I wouldn't say it is my worst, but it is far from my best."
I was about to explain what was wrong with it, but Lady Dunn said, "Silence." I clamped my lips shut. "I like this piece, even though it is one of your earlier works. Please do not point out the flaws in any of your work. Perhaps I see them, perhaps I do not, but if I do not, I do not wish to."
"I am sorry. Of course. I should know better."
"I like this piece partly because it is one of your earlier pieces. There is an innocence to it. This piece was in storage before you arrived. I believe it is especially fitting right now. When I look up from my desk, I see this, and I am reminded you are here. I am also reminded that you are fragile right now, and that I must have care."
"You have care for your blood slave?"
"No, Melissa, I have care for you."
"Are you going to explain that?"
She smiled. "No."
I turned to look at her. "You are wearing no makeup."
"No. I have not replaced my maid yet."
"This is better than what Penny did, unless you intentionally wish to look stark and imposing."
She faced me fully. "Am I still stark?"
"Less so." I paused. "Did you do your hair yourself?" It was done simply as if she had showered and brushed it without the use of a mirror, strictly by feel.
"Am I disheveled?"
I stepped forward and brushed at an errant lock. She stood very still while I did so. "No. You look fine."
"Come," she said, tugging the leash gently. She led the way from her office, and we descended to the main floor of the house. "These are the more public areas. You will rarely encounter anyone upstairs except in the direct performance of her duties. During the day, you are far more likely to encounter more people here, but it is evening, and much of the staff has gone to their own homes."
It was a lavish home. There was an informal dining room that seemed huge, but then I saw the formal dining room, and it looked large enough to seat sixty. I stared at the large table. "Do you often entertain so many?"
"Not often. But when I do, I prefer a formal setting rather than..." she made a sound of disgust. "... a picnic in the back yard."
"You do not care for picnics? I should not ask you to invite me to one?"
She laughed. "I would enjoy a picnic with you, but they are far too informal for the style of entertaining I prefer."
There was a ballroom with a large dance space and seating around the perimeter, and there were several sitting rooms, some large, some far more intimate. The more intimate settings had fireplaces with comfortable seating arranged before the fireplace, and each fireplace had a fire laid, waiting to be lit. I realized there had been a fireplace in both her office and bedroom, but I hadn't commented on them.
"Do you have fires often?"
"Yes, in the cooler months."
"Do you feel the chill?"
"No, but I believe it makes the space more cheery."
I turned to face her. "Do you sleep?"
"Not as much now as I did a few hundred years ago. Young vampires sleep from sunrise to sunset. Very old vampires do not sleep at all and can tolerate direct sunlight without discomfort."
"And you?"
"I sleep a few hours a day, and I can skip a few days when necessary, but it catches up to me. It is easier for me to sleep during the day, and so I typically sleep from sunrise until I wake."
"And the sun?"
"I burn very easily. I did as a human as well, and so I will probably always burn easily, but perhaps if I live long enough, I will not."
"Burn easily?"
"Bright red after a few minutes of direct exposure."
"So no bursting into flames?"
She laughed. "No. Not anymore."
We didn't encounter anyone else. "No one else lives inside the house?"
"No. The servants have homes on the property. At night, it is almost always only you and I, but of course, they are close if I need them."
We passed through another corridor, and I asked her, "What is that door?"
"Basement."
"May I see?"
"No. If I ever give you free run of the house, the basement remains off limits. Am I clear?"
"Yes, m'lady."
"Well, that's the entire house," she declared a few rooms later.
"It is very sumptuous," I replied. "Is it common for a blood slave to be treated the way you treat me?"
"The parts you don't care for, yes," she said. "The rest, perhaps not."
"So most blood slaves don't enjoy being fed from?"
She smiled. "Touché."
I stepped closer to her. "Was that a request?"
Her eyes widened.
"Did you ask me to touch you?"
I moved closer until we were nearly touching. I stared into her eyes, daring her to capture me like she had the other day.
"I thought you were frightened of me," she said, almost too softly to hear.
I reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her face.
"And I thought you said my hair was composed."
"You have one lock that is errant," I replied "It keeps drifting into your face. I do not assume responsibility for it, and... yep,
there it is again." I brushed it away and tucked it behind her ear. "I am sure it will escape its prison again."
"I need you to behave, Melissa."
I stepped a half step back and turned away. I'd been feeling playful, but it suddenly fled. "I'm sorry, m'lady. I thought that's what you wanted."
"Is that why you did it? You thought I wanted you to."
"No."
"Until you wake up with a smile at seeing me at your bedside, making no references to bad dreams, we will not proceed down that path."
"I am sorry, m'lady."
"What would you like to do now?"
I looked at her. "If I asked for clothing and a tour of your land, what would be your response."
"I would offer the tour and inform you it is a pleasant evening, then observe that seeing you in goose bumps might amuse me."
"Are there men on your staff? I am not sure I could be cavalier about that."
"No. Not a one."
"The gardening staff?"
"All women."
"Children of your staff?"
"Several. There is one male child of six months. The others are girls. You have met Ashlyn."
"She was kind. May I at least have shoes to protect my feet?"
"We will walk in the grass, and if your feet are so tender, then they could use some toughening up."
"Do I displease you asking?"
"No. If I ever take you outside, and it is too cold for you, you may tell me. But otherwise this should be the last time you ask for clothing."
I took a breath and stood up straight. "M'lady, would you enjoy giving me a tour of your land?"
"Very much so, Melissa. Come." A light tug. I knew she did that because it pleased her to do so.
It was a pleasant evening, very shortly before dusk. The vampire allowed me to set the pace we walked, but she steered me by the chain attached to my lip. A few times I caught her expression, and I thought it gave her a flash of pleasure each time she did it.
"What do you feel when you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Tug on the chain."
"Oh. It is an expression of my possessive nature. Forcing you to parade yourself is part of that, as well. I am also steering us where I know we will encounter my staff. They will watch us, and that is a part of parading you."
I didn't care for the answer, and I didn't respond.
"You asked," she pointed out.
"I did."
"I know this is unfair to you," she said, "and I imagine you resent it. There is a portion of me that feels guilty, but vampires do not have an overabundance of empathy. My understanding is intellectual, not emotional. My possessive nature is exceedingly emotional."
"If you are so possessive, why am I your first blood slave?"
"I will answer that, but I will not answer the next question you will want to ask, so do not ask it. You are the first blood slave that has been available that I was fairly sure I wouldn't kill."
Immediately I wanted to ask, "why am I special?" I glanced over, and she was watching me.
"Going to ask it?"
"You ordered me not to, so no."
It was clear from the interior that the house was huge, but it was made even clearer by the exterior. I became disoriented with directions, so I asked her, "which wing is which?"
We stopped, looking at the back of the house. "Top floor," she said, "the center windows are on either side of your painting. My bedrooms windows are the first several to the right."
"So my bedroom is at that end?" I pointed to the far right.
"Yes."
"Now I see it. M'lady?"
"Yes?"
"Will I ever be allowed a more cheerful room? If you can truly track me by the blood you have fed me, it is not like I could ever flee from you."
"Your choice is your current room or mine."
"Oh."
And then I was quiet again. I didn't care for the implication my choice was a dreary room or her bed, and that it would remain this way for the next three years.
Two minutes later, she sighed. As she didn't need to breathe, I knew it was for my benefit.
"I am not sulking," I said. "I am only thinking."
"Thank you for telling me," she said. "Are you going to tell me what you are thinking about?"
"Only if you make it an order," I replied.
"I see." She turned me to face her. "I want to show you someplace else, and then I am going to parade you. I will grow angry if you pout."
"I will stand tall and imagine they all have paint brushes and are standing behind easels."
She laughed lightly.
"Do you want me to pose for them?" I stopped and turned to her, assuming a standard pose, one leg pointed, the other knee bent, and both my hands lifted up as if cupping water pouring from a pipe. "Or maybe you prefer this." And I moved my hands into a position of prayer, pressed together under my chin, and I looked at her through imploring eyes. "Or maybe you would rather I display more submissively." I lowered myself to my knees in the grass, then lowered my mouth to her feet and kissed them. She laughed but tugged upwards with the chain.
"I know what you want." I climbed to my feet then assumed a backwards lean, balancing precariously, as if I were being dragged and was fighting it, and I put my lower lip into a pout.
She laughed again then tugged on the chain, but I held my position as she tugged lightly.
"You're right," I said. "It will look more lifelike if the chain is taut."
"Come," she said with another laugh, and I stepped to her, and together we walked across the grass. She led me into a garden, then on a twisting path amongst the trees and bushes. Finally we reached the center, and we were surrounded by flowers, the center space of verdant lawn only about eight feet across.
I sank to the ground, then reached up and pulled her down next to me.
"M'lady," I said. "This is so beautiful."
She sat down carefully next to me, and I learned against her.
"Will you hold me?"
She drew me into her arms, and I moved into her lap, snuggling against her.
"What are you doing?"
"Chilly." I pressed a hand against the bare skin below her throat. "Although I'm not sure why I expect you to warm me. I am more likely to warm you."
"Am I cold to touch?"
"Yes, the same temperature as the air." I pushed away from her, but she tightened her arms.
"Only a moment," she said.
I don't know what she did, but she warmed up, and soon I was cuddling tightly into her warmth.
"Oh, that's good," I said. "Thank you. Is that difficult?"
"Not particularly," she replied. "An inconsequential amount of energy. My body tends to accept the ambient temperature unless I concentrate on a higher temperature."
I looked around the small garden. Dusk had settled, and I could see little.
"I would stay for a while," I said, "but you were so looking forward to parading me about."
"There is time," she said. "We may stay, or was that your way to tell me you're ready to go inside."
"No. It is lovely here, and now I am warm."
We sat quietly for some minutes before I said, "M'lady."
"Yes, my blood slave?"
"When you decide to bleed me to death, it would be kindness to do it here, if it is still summer."
She growled in her throat and dumped me to the ground, climbing to her feet. I scrambled to kneel, then lowered my head to the grass, a picture of submission.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry."
She stopped in front of me, but when I moved forward to kiss her feet, she said firmly, "No!"
I knelt there, still.
"Why did you say that?" she demanded.
"I-" I stammered. "It occurred to me how beautiful it was, and when I die, I guess I would like to die surrounded by beauty. I did not know it would anger you."
She reached down and grabbed the chain, pulling me upwards until I knelt, my face lift
ed towards her. She bent over, her nose inches from mine.
"Why are you so convinced I am going to kill you?"
That was when I realized why she was angry. "I'm sorry!" I said. "I'm sorry!"
"Answer me!" she roared.
"That's why, m'lady! That's why! Look how angry you are, and it wasn't intentional. You almost killed me today. I needed a transfusion. You're going to kill me eventually. We both know it. Why pretend? You're trying to make it easier for me, maybe, and taking your time, but you're going to kill me!"
"I'm not going to kill you!" she screamed into my face.
"Of course you are, m'lady. You'll feed from me when you're angry, and you won't stop. Maybe you won't intend to kill me. Maybe you'll only drain me so deeply there is brain damage before you can pump more blood into me. But then I won't be able to amuse you anymore, and whatever reason you have for keeping me alive will be gone. If I become brain damaged, I'd want you to do it. I only asked you do it somewhere beautiful. I'd like to die with beauty around me. Is that too much to ask?"
She released me, and I slumped. She turned away, her back to me.
"I won't," she said.
"You will," I said quietly. "M'lady, I am begging you, if you damage my brain, finish it, and don't waste time. Carry me here and finish it. But don't let me die cold. I hate being cold, and I think I am going to hate it a lot more in the weeks ahead, if I live that long."
She whirled on me. "None of that is going to happen!"
I lowered my head, staring at the ground. "If I live through my sentence, but I am no longer able to paint, I will apply for a permit for you to bleed me to death. You will do it. Promise me."
"That is not going to happen!" she screamed. "I will not allow it! Do you hear me? I will not allow it!"
"Then I will find someone else. Maybe Edie. She seemed kind."
"No! You will not. Edie wouldn't dare. You. Are. Mine!"
"I thought about killing myself the first day," I said. "I do not think I can do it. If I lose my art, you must do it for me. I felt the tears begin to pour from my eyes. "Without my art, I am nothing. It has been all I am since the day I was born."
"You are not nothing, Melissa," she said, and it was said quietly. "I will make some promises to you if you make some to me."
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