by Kallysten
The Vampire’s Concubine
By Kallysten
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2009 Kallysten
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The right of Kallysten to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First Published May 2009
First Edition
All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited by Mary S.
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The Vampire’s Concubine
As soon as Meriel passed the guards standing on either side of the grand entrance, she saw him. She kept her face impassive despite the grimace that wanted to come forth. Wonderful. He was as handsome as she’d been told. It would have been too much to hope he’d be a runt.
Her sire’s hand tightened on her elbow. Meriel looked at her.
“Smile,” Leean murmured, no louder than a breath, her own lips curving as though to demonstrate. “You look like you’re about to challenge someone to a duel.”
Refraining from rolling her eyes, Meriel smiled and answered just as quietly. The band playing on the left side of the ballroom was loud, but the music wouldn’t stop anyone from eavesdropping. The guests were all vampires, after all.
“A duel would be faster. And there’d be more honor to it than—”
Leean’s smile did not waver, but the icy flames in her blue eyes gave it an entirely different meaning.
“I hope you’ll hold your tongue when you talk to Master Aidan. I’d hate to have to cut it out if you don’t.”
Meriel’s only reaction was a blink. She knew better than to show she was scared when surrounded by members of a dozen different clans. She couldn’t control her scent as well, unfortunately. Leean sniffed and her gaze hardened even more.
“Go and do what you’re supposed to, childe. Or I swear I will give you a real reason to be afraid.”
Meriel bowed her head. She gritted her teeth but did as she was told and went to stand by the dais in the back of the room, joining the loose circle of candidates. She didn’t think Leean would stake her in front of a room full of other clans, but then again, who knew what her sire was capable of?
A server weaving his way though the crowd presented her with a tray of drinks. The darker glasses caught her eyes and nose; she was famished. She wasn’t allowed to feed, though, and so she took a long flute of champagne. She had to hide her surprise as she watched the waiter move on to another guest. At the man’s throat, a series of healed marks were clearly visible. So, Master Aidan truly kept human pets. Interesting.
Sipping on the champagne, she let her eyes wander around the room. All men wore tuxedos, and the women paraded in extravagant dresses, even those who didn’t appear to be candidates. Coming to the mansion, Meriel had felt terribly uncomfortable in her low-cut, deep purple satin cocktail dress. She couldn’t deny it was pretty; Leean had a good eye for fashion. It wasn’t cut for a fight, though, and the tight fit would both curb her combat abilities and prevent her from hiding weapons on herself. Leean had laughed at her when she had pointed it out. Supposedly, fights didn’t happen on such occasions. It was hard to relax, however, when she could spot members from at least four clans she had fought in the past. If it came to that, the wooden heels of her stiletto shoes would make fine stakes. That was why she had chosen them, after all.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the candidate who had been sitting next to Master Aidan stand and bow so low that her breasts practically fell from her dress. As though the display had not been enough, she took his hand and brushed her lips to it. Meriel hid a snort in her glass. She wouldn’t play those games, Leean’s threats be damned. Her sire had volunteered her for this charade; that didn’t mean she had to make a fool of herself.
The candidate walked off the dais holding up the train of her crimson dress. Half the women in the room were dressed in various shades of red; most of the rest wore black, their pale skin gleaming all the more for it. Sheep, Meriel thought, amused, before realizing that Master Aidan was dressed in red and black, too. Maybe the colors were meant to please him? If they were, it was too late for her to do anything about her dress—not that she would have.
A man stepped in front of her, tall and broad-shouldered. His eyes roamed over her body with no hint of pretense or appreciation.
“Your shoes,” he said, holding out his hand.
She stared at him. “I beg—”
“Master Aidan will talk to you now. But I’m not letting you anywhere near him with those heels. Take them off.”
The closest candidates turned smirks toward her. Meriel’s anger flashed through her veins like quicksilver.
“Just about all of those,” she jerked her head to the women, “could have a stake up their skirts. And you’re giving me grief about my shoes?”
His expression remained impassive. His hand didn’t waver. “I’m not letting you near him unless—”
“Stephen.”
The man looked up at the dais at the name, and Meriel followed his eyes. Master Aidan nodded once.
“Go ahead,” Stephen said, sounding unhappy. “But I’m keeping an eye on you.”
Ignoring his warning, Meriel held out her almost-empty glass to him. He gave her a sour look but took it. She climbed onto the dais and approached Master Aidan. He sat very stiffly on the throne-like chair, but his left foot tapped the floor impatiently, belying the formality of the setting. He wasn’t as broad of shoulders as his bodyguard, and his tight shirt and pants hinted at a lean but muscled body. Meriel made a small bow—just low enough to be respectful—and introduced herself.
“My name is Meriel, from Mistress Leean’s clan.”
He inclined his head and indicated the seat on his left with a ringed finger. His brown eyes sparkled with amusement, though it didn’t touch his thin smile.
“Welcome, Meriel. Are you enjoying the soiree?”
She sat down, her body at an angle so she could both see him and the people in front of the dais. True to his words, Stephen was glaring at her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I only arrived a few minutes ago,” she replied, unwilling to start their chat with the admission that she hated shindigs such as this one.
Master Aidan seemed to see right through her, and his amusement flared anew. “I’ve asked that question a dozen times tonight. You’re the first who didn’t start gushing about what good parties I throw.”
Meriel managed not to flinch. This wasn’t starting well at all. She didn’t doubt that Leean was closeby, observing the proceedings, and if Meriel didn’t at least make a token effort, there would be hell to pay.
“Tell me,” Master Aidan said. “Why are you here?”
Could he have asked a more inane question? Why not talk about the weather, while he was at it?
“I want to be your concubine,” Meriel re
plied with a forced smile, mentally punctuating the sentence with a ‘duh.’
Aidan leaned toward her minutely, his eyebrows tightening for an instant. “Do you, really?”
“Of course. Why else would I be here?”
He shrugged. “Some of the other candidates were thralled by their sires so that they would throw themselves at me. A few think they’ll get more power being my concubine than they ever could by remaining with their clan. I think a couple of them are genuinely attracted to me. But you… I can’t read you.”
A wave of panic slid over Meriel. She tried to push it back before he could notice.
“Read me?” she asked, the words catching in her throat. “You mean, read my mind?”
If he could do that, if he could see what Leean had planned—
He chuckled. “So that rumor is still running around? No, I’m afraid I can’t read minds any more than you can. I wish I could. All of this would go much faster.”
With a casual gesture, he encompassed the dais and the women in front of it.
“So what do you mean by ‘read’ me?” Meriel insisted.
“You know what. You do it, too, I’m sure. I’ve just had a lot more time to practice.”
He stopped and arched an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to figure it out. She knew, of course, and she felt silly for lending credit to the mind-reading rumors.
“My scent.”
He nodded. “And your body language, yes. Though yours are much too jumbled for me to make much sense of them. I don’t like that.”
A wave of relief washed over Meriel. She hid her reaction as well as she could; the last thing she needed was for Aidan to wonder why she was relieved he couldn’t figure her out.
“Sorry?”
Her meek tone did not seem to fool Aidan. “Somehow, I don’t believe you are sorry. And I don’t think you really want to be my concubine.”
Meriel’s foot tapped impatiently a couple of times before she remembered to rein herself in. Her eyes swept over the crowd, pausing only briefly on Leean. She was standing on one side of the room with two other vampires, a glass in hand and a polite smile on her lips as she appeared to listen to her companions. Meriel did not doubt for a second that her sire’s attention was on her and Aidan. From where she stood, Leean could probably read their lips. Meriel had to be careful about what she said.
“I’m here because my sire asked me to be.” She gave him a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not like I’m trying to hide that.”
Leaning his elbow on the arm of his throne, Aidan rested his cheek against his closed fist and considered Meriel carefully. His eyes gleamed as they plunged into hers.
“She didn’t thrall you.”
Meriel wasn’t sure whether it was a question or statement. “She didn’t have to. She raised me well.”
He laughed, the sound earnest and unexpected. “Did she? Respect for your elders mustn’t have been one of the lessons.”
Despite her fear of angering her sire, Meriel couldn’t stop annoyance from flaring in her. More and more, he seemed to be mocking her.
“Forgive me if I’m not thrilled at the idea of being enslaved,” she said sharply.
His amused smile faded, and his widening eyes betrayed his shock. “Is that what you think this is?”
“Isn’t it? I’m currency in exchange for the right of my clan to hunt in this city. Call me concubine or whore, it doesn’t change a thing.”
He blinked and leaned back in his chair, considering her in silence for a few seconds. She’d blown it, Meriel realized when he dismissed her with a gesture. Damn it, Leean wasn’t going to be happy. She stood and gave a small bow before descending from the dais, acutely aware that Aidan’s stare remained on her even as another candidate joined him.
Picking another champagne flute from a passing tray, Meriel made her way through the crowd toward the band, but Leean soon intercepted her. Her fingers were so tight on her glass of blood that it was a wonder the crystal wasn’t breaking.
“Was that the best you could do?” she asked sotto voce, her thin smile icy as summer back in their clan’s barren land.
Meriel met her gaze, refusing to appear guilty. She hadn’t wanted to do this in the first place, and Leean knew it. “You know I’ve never been a very good liar,” she pointed out before taking a sip of champagne.
“Who said anything about lying?” Leean hissed. “Don’t tell me you don’t find him attractive! All you had to do—”
After not having been allowed to feed for seven nights, the alcohol was making Meriel a little lightheaded. It also made her dare to interrupt Leean. “Sire, from the start I asked you to pick someone else.”
“And I told you,” Leean shot back in a angry whisper, “this is why I made you. I’ve watched him for a long time. I know what he likes. And if you had even tried—”
She fell silent along with the rest of the room when the band stopped playing abruptly. At once, all vampires turned toward the dais, where Aidan was standing, his hands clasped behind him. As he announced he had made his decision, Meriel was torn. She was glad the whole thing was over, but at the same time she knew she’d be punished for failing her sire. What would Leean invent to punish her? She had a cruel streak at times, and—
“Childe!” Leean murmured. “What are you waiting for?”
Meriel looked at her dumbfounded. Why was she radiating smugness all of a sudden? And why was everyone around them looking at her?
“Meriel?” Aidan said from the dais, and by the tone of his voice, he had called her name before. “Will you join me so we can finish the ceremony?”
Leean took her glass and gave her a light push forward. Meriel continued walking toward the dais, stunned, and a single thought running through her mind.
Oh, fuck. What mess did I get myself into now?
* * * *
Aidan had played this game more than a dozen times in the past. He’d been certain he’d received every possible flattering line, heard all possible arguments as to why he ought to select one woman rather than another. No one, however, had ever seemed as reluctant as Meriel. When the candidates were less than willing, their sires thralled them before throwing them at him. He’d never met Meriel’s sire in person, but he knew of her. She wasn’t the type to hesitate about thralling anyone, let alone her own childe. And after soliciting the right to present a candidate from her clan for forty years, she wasn’t the type to let her chance go to waste by choosing such a reluctant woman. Something was going on, there. It had been a long time since Aidan had been intrigued, and in the end, it was what made up his mind.
That, and Meriel was as beautiful as she was mysterious. Even now that another candidate chatted at him with honey dripping from each of her words, Aidan couldn’t take his eyes off Meriel. He liked all sorts of women, but he did have a weakness for curvaceous bodies and long, curly hair. It didn’t hurt that she seemed to have a sharp mind—and an even sharper tongue.
He endured the inane chatter of the candidate a few more moments before thanking her. Stephen gave him a questioning look from the foot of the dais. Trust his childe to have noticed he was ready to announce his choice. He gave a simple nod before standing. Already, Stephen was signaling the band. Silence fell on the room even as eyes turned to him. Thank the gods, it was almost over.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he said with a pleasant smile. “And thank you to all the candidates whom I had the pleasure to meet. As always, the choice was a difficult one, but it had to be made. Meriel, will you join me on the dais?”
A murmur of disappointment ran over the crowd, and Aidan even thought he heard someone cry out. He didn’t let that affect him, and kept his eyes on Meriel. She wasn’t moving. Curious eyes followed his, wondering why no one was stepping forward, and Meriel’s sire hissed a few words.
“Meriel?” he called again, a little impatient now. “Will you join me so we can finish the ceremony?”
She finally came forward. The
look of surprise on her face was unmistakable. Aidan resisted the urge to chuckle. This was going to be fun, even if Stephen was looking at her with clear disapproval. She finally reached the dais and stood next to him, her eyes still wide in shock. Aidan held out his left hand, palm up, and after a second of hesitation, she placed her trembling right hand in it.
“Two hundred and eighty years ago,” Aidan intoned the familiar speech, “I was entrusted with the care of a city. I protected it from bloodthirsty errant vampires and nearby clans who would have slaughtered its citizens. I gained their trust and, in exchange, the right for me and mine to hunt amongst them. This right, I now share with you and your clan, Meriel. May you grow strong from freely offered blood, and never go thirsty for another day.”
Allowing his fangs to extend, he slashed them across his right wrist. Blood welled up at the wounds at once, and he presented his wrist to Meriel. Her nostrils flared even as her pupils dilated, black drowning the dark brown of her eyes. She gripped his arm with her free hand and led it to her mouth, closing her eyes in anticipated pleasure before she started drinking. She pulled hard on his blood. Aidan pinched his lips tight so he wouldn’t gasp. The last few candidates he had chosen had lapped at his blood meekly during the ceremony. Meriel’s aggressiveness as she drank from him was something else altogether—and judging by the abrupt hardening of his cock, his body did not mind at all.
When she let go of his wrist, his blood stained her mouth, and her eyes burned with a fierce fire. Aidan’s cock leaped almost painfully inside his too-tight trousers. She was beautiful. She wiped at a drop of blood rolling down her chin, only smearing it a little more, then cleared her throat and pronounced, a little shakily, the vows all candidates were asked to memorize.
“My clan and I thank you for your gifts, and we pledge not to abuse your generosity. For ten years, my presence at your side will be a symbol of our promise, and as your concubine I will share my blood with you, as you share your city with us.”