Strawberry

by Desdemona Grey

  Owen moved off me casually, leaving in a blur and returning with a silver domed tray which he placed on the bedside table without ceremony. The mouthwatering aromas coming from that tray made my belly growl angrily and I had to swallow back a big juicy spurt of saliva. I did not want him to see me slobbering like one of Pavlov’s dogs so I focused my eyes elsewhere but that did not do one ounce of good. I could smell truffle, butter and rare meat and my stomach let out another of those loud and feral yelps.

  Owen removed the dome to reveal the exact meal I had described myself as enjoying. An incredible slab of steak with an amount of fresh truffle shaved over the top that would cost me a month’s rent. The roast potatoes on the side looked both fluffy and crunchy and golden through. For some reason, the meal choice infuriated me and I turned my back on it, and him, like a spoiled child.

  “You must eat.”

  “So you can eat me,” I said bitterly.

  “Yes.”

  He was honest, I had to give him that.

  “You do know that these days saying ‘I want to eat you’ means something entirely different,” I shot at him. “Why don’t you go find a nice vampire girl and give that a try instead of keeping me around? Or are you afraid to? Maybe you are afraid you will fall in love and end up with a few vampire kiddies? Do you have commitment issues or is it performance anxiety?” I knew I was goading him. Part of me was hoping he would snap and kill me. I didn’t want to die but I wanted even less to be held prisoner so he could feed off me at his leisure.

  My words had no effect. He merely began to carve the hunk of Kobe beef into tiny bits. Blood ran across the plate, pooling nicely against the baked potato.

  “You must replenish your iron.”

  He tapped the fork against my lips. My traitorous mouth opened to accept the steak. My lips closed around it and my eyelids fluttered as I savored the delicately seasoned morsel. Did I mention I’m a sucker for good food? If Owen does not kill me I will likely die from over consumption.

  The taste of the food made me realize how little I wanted to die. For the first time in my life I looked at my life as precious and I opened my eyes and stared at his face, my eyes tracing the curve of his cheek, the soft fan of his eyelashes as he looked down at the plate. How could a monster be so beautiful?

  I rebelled with words only. “I’m not eating for you. Despite you being the devil for tempting me with this fucking incredible meal.”

  I couldn’t get any reaction from him. He was like an animated corpse, only caring about keeping his food supply viable. He placed another bite of the meat in my mouth and I decided to try a different tactic.

  I clutched at my stomach and buckled over onto the mattress in fake pain, crying out and writhing. My performance was good enough to make Owen put down the steak knife to come to my aid.

  “Strawberry, what’s wrong?”

  The knife was within reach. It was cold steel, sharp and shining. While I still had the element of surprise I grabbed it and jabbed at his chest. I worried that his body would somehow simply deflect the blade like he was made of stone, but it didn’t. The blade went in. At least, it went in a little way. His skin was cold, dense, and the blade lodged hard into it. It may have stopped but my hand did not. It kept going, my palm streaked along the razor sharp edge. Blood swelled from the wound and dripped down his shirt front.

  I pulled my hand back, pain lancing into me. I screamed, unable to bear the sight of my body losing more of the precious liquid that kept me alive.

  “Troublesome food.” His anger was not white-hot, it was arctic cold. It was subzero. His face had frozen into an expression of such rage I was sure he was just going to reach over and snap my neck right off of my shoulders but he did not. Instead he pulled the blade out. The tip of it, the part that had been lodged in his chest was clean but my blood lay on the length, thin and red and beading up slowly like tears on the steel.

  His tongue came out and licked the blade with a slow sensual motion that made my belly flop loosely.

  “You obviously don’t want to eat,” he said in a low but lethal tone. “I do, however, and see no reason why one of us should go hungry.”

  I screamed and kicked but his cold hands shoved me down into the mattress. Hot salty tears fell down my cheeks and my feet kicked and flailed but to no avail. One of his hands pinned me down between my breasts, and the other grabbed my thigh, spreading my legs apart before him. He bent his face into me. Teeth grazed my sensitive upper thigh then went in deeply, laying open my femoral artery.

  Dizziness spun through me. I was so weak and so tired that my body could not decipher at first what was happening. I could only feel the ice of his lips and the hot flush of my blood. His jaw clenched around my flesh and a heat rose inside my belly and spread. My mouth opened in a cry that was no longer pain riddled but filled with ecstasy. The blood rushing through me, sucked through my upper thigh by Owen’s strong mouth was a sensation so close to an orgasm that it left me breathless. I tried to fight it, hating my traitorous body, but the more I tried to deny it the stronger the sensation grew until I was arching against his mouth and moaning. Pleasure and darkness washed over me. I fell back into the pillows limp and drifted into black nothingness.

  Chapter Four

  I woke up the next morning to the sight of my bandaged hand on the pillow beside me, the curtains tightly closed and Owen beside my bed. He looked tired and drawn. He caught sight of me staring at him and he lifted my head slightly to put a glass of sweet milk to my lips. I swallowed it and he laid my head back down with a tenderness I would never have believed him capable of. It wasn’t just being careful not to damage something prized. It was actual caring. I could see it in him and knew something had changed. Like that flicker of hesitation I saw once before. Maybe I had a chance, now, to get through to him.

  There was almost something vulnerable in his voice when he said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I don’t usually react with such violence.”

  Who the hell is he kidding? He’s a vampire. He lives off violence.

  I bit down my retort and said, “I don’t want to die.”

  “You will.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase that. I don’t want to die right now.”

  “I will keep you alive as long as possible.”

  “Gee, thanks. That is not what I mean and you know it. I want to go home. Being kept here, like this, is as good as death. Do you not see how cruel this is? I mean keeping me here so you can nibble at me until I’m all dried up? What would make you do something so awful? It’s inhuman!” Of course it is, you idiot, I thought, he’s not human.

  “Do you enjoy crab legs?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Yes, I love them. Why?”

  “Do you consider it fair to yank a crab from its home, tear off one leg and toss it back?”

  “I’ve never—”

  “They harvest stone crabs one leg at a time. The leg grows back but each time that crab is caught again its leg is taken. Is that human behavior?”

  I’ll never eat crabs again, I swear it. I changed the subject. “You used to be a human.”

  “Yes, a very long time ago.”

  “How old are you?” I asked, staring at his lean and elegant fingers, the wrinkle-free skin around his eyes. He didn’t look a day past twenty eight.

  “I have not been human for four hundred and thirty one years.”

  I choked. “Why did you become a vampire? Were you afraid of dying?”

  “I do not fear death.”

  “But I do. Can you not even understand that? Can’t you just let me go?”

  “No, I can’t. If you were anyone else, if you had any other blood you would be home already. Normally I feed and then make the human forget before releasing them. I have never kept anyone before. It’s far too risky, the chance of being discovered. But your blood is too delicious. I cannot let you go.”

  “Please!” I begged. Even now, when we could almost have a conversation like real people, I was
n’t getting anywhere and desperation broke over me like a cold sweat. “Do that, please. Brain wipe me and drop me off on some corner. There are probably people out looking for me. Lots of people.” No one. No one would be looking for me except debt collectors. I didn’t need to force tears for this scene.

  “I’m sorry.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth a confused expression crossed his face, then the anger slammed back over his features like a lid. “This is wrong. There’s something about you, having you here… Stop speaking to me. I will not apologize to my food. I should not have to.”

  “I’m not food.” I threw myself at him, grasping at his shirt. “I’m a person! Please! I’m a person!”

  He wrapped his hands around my wrists, halting my assault. A dark and troubled expression traveled his face and it hit me again how gorgeous he was, not just his looks, but a sort of smoldering sexuality in the hint of vulnerability he showed within that troubled expression.

  He lunged on me and I tensed.

  He did not bite me. He brushed cool and soft lips across my warm ones. I was stunned speechless by the gesture. I was also confused. He went from hot to cold so fast, from inhuman to human. He seemed more human today…

  Wait. Was there some connection with him feeding and his being more human? Before I could fully form that thought I remembered I was his captive. My arms came out in a reflexive motion and I pushed him back but really what I was shoving away was not just him but the fact that I was attracted to him. That I was enjoying the kiss.

  A heavy silence hung between us. I tried to slow my heart, cool the warmth of lust that spread through my body.

  With a confused and angry look, he vanished.

  Screw this shit. I was quickly going to go insane trying to judge the emotions and motives of my captor. I had to get out of here. The chain rattled and shook as I strained against it. I was sitting on the floor with my feet against the wall and pushing as hard as I could. My back ached and sweat was rolling down my body, drenching the night gown but the bed posts held and the chain was still in place.

  The door opened and the thrall came in, the same madhouse stare and smile on her face. I waved at her but she did not seem to notice me, instead she set the tray that held my breakfast down on the table and stripped the sheets off the bed. I found myself staring at her legs, blue varicose veins mottled her calves and her skinny butt almost hit me in the forehead. I was beyond grateful for the filthy khaki shorts she wore.

  I could not help but wonder if she would have made the bed with me in it. The way she tossed the sheets on and tucked them in made me think of the Stepford wives, only she was a hell of a lot less well-kept up.

  Her eyes were vacant when I looked into them, the wheels still turning but the hamster was dead. I waved a hand in front of her face and she did not even blink. Pity welled up in me. Had she once also been his meal plan? Blueberry, maybe?

  I shuddered all over. I would rather be dead than be a senseless… thing.

  That thought made me remember just how much I did not want to be dead and how little I trusted the vampire to keep me alive.

  Despondent I sat down on the bed and looked over at the breakfast tray. Tea slopped out of a pot and there was a small saucer but no food on it. Maybe the maid was feeling the same strain I was in captivity and rebelling in small ways.

  Chapter Five

  Two nights passed. Owen didn’t return. I hung there in that bedroom in a nearly suspended state. My body gradually began to heal. The thrall brought me nearly endless pots of tea, but food was random and sporadic, only enough to nibble on. I tried to talk to her, get her attention, but she just skulked in and out, creepy as all hell. The one time she actually looked at me, even briefly, I thought she was going to beat me to death rather than help me escape. I had nothing for company but the books on the shelves. They were a mixed bag of archaic philosophy, history texts, and long dead poets, but they were better than nothing. On and off I kept trying to plan an escape, but no new weapons miraculously emerged and the chain remained strong.

  At dusk of the third night, Owen finally came back. As tired of being alone as I was I was almost happy to see him.

  His face was cold and still, remote as the moon that hung in the corner of the open doors of the balcony. My first thought, oh fucking shit. He’s going to kill me, faded out so fast I barely had time to register that cool trickle of fear in my belly for what it was.

  Owen gave me a distasteful look, then disappeared briefly into the bathroom before returning.

  I had remembered the way he had softened when he drank from me and was almost desperate to get him to bite me again. I didn’t know why that was, but it made some kind of sense. Even the best of us get grouchy when hungry. I wanted him to change from this dead monster into the almost human man I could talk to, that I had any chance of reaching. I have to keep him on my side, try and get in control of him or his emotions.

  “Been a while.” I said. “You must be hungry.” Oh, gee, that was really subtle. I should have just tilted my head and said, here vampire have a suck.

  He did not seem to notice that slip. “I am. But you are filthy. Why have you not bathed?”

  I wouldn’t. Not until I was free. It was the small pact I’d made myself. There was too much temptation here, luring me to give in and stay, live in luxury and be fed exquisite food, at the small price of being food myself.

  I deflected. “Why haven’t you been around? Your nutty maid has been all but starving me.”

  Owen frowned but there was no caring in the expression, just more distaste. “She has been strangely disobedient lately. I don’t know why. I will see that you receive adequate food from now on. Now, I require my food to be clean.”

  In a swift movement he uncuffed me and hauled me to my feet.

  Instinct kicked in. I flailed out my arms, hitting him in his sharp and straight nose. There was a small bit of satisfaction in that but even more satisfying was my run across the floor. My fingers reached for the doorknob but before I could turn it his muscular arms wound around my waist and he lifted me from the floor. My legs kept going, feet running nowhere even as I was hauled backwards.

  I screamed every curse word I had ever heard and even made a few of them up. I beat at his hands and arms, kicked his shins and head butted him, which made me see stars but did not seem to faze him at all.

  I was too busy screaming and fighting to notice where we were going until he dropped me in the middle of the bathtub. Water splashed up around me and slammed, wave-like, across the floor. My screams stopped, cutting off as abruptly as an air siren.

  The tub was so deep my chest was submerged. I rubbed my aching ass cheeks and shot him a nasty glare. The water was warm and soothing, smelling of lavender and lilies and the urge to just lie back and enjoy it was difficult to resist.

  The sodden night gown billowed out around me and the clotted and crusted blood on the front began to come loose in tiny, dark burgundy threads. Owen grabbed the gown and tore it from my body as easy as if it were wet tissue. A thrill shot through me and I gasped, grabbing at the lacy material being torn away. I slipped in the water, managing to dunk myself again.

  When I sat up, my drenched hair shedding water across my face, I screamed, “Are you trying to drown me?”

  “Bathe.” His voice held command.

  I curled forward, pulling my knees up to cover my exposed breasts. “What if I don’t want to?”

  “Then I will bathe you.”

  I’m normally an easygoing person. Hell, I’ve never really had much of a stomach for confrontation. When I told my folks I wanted to move to LA to become an actress the uproar was so great I simply waited until they were asleep one night, packed my stuff and left town. I left them a note. It was not like I ran away, I was nineteen when I drove off from home. I didn’t talk to them for a few weeks until they had calmed down just because I couldn’t stand to fight with them.

  That’s been my pattern my whole life. I hate to
fight and usually run from one. The only thing I had ever really fought for was my career. Or was it? Sitting there I could see how that wasn’t true. I had been a coward, settling for parts I knew were no good. I had chosen a low-rent agent, an agent who had trotted me out to a game that had landed me here, in the house of a vampire, because I was afraid to try for a better one.

  Sitting there I looked back at my career and wanted to laugh or cry. I had come to LA with such high hopes. I wanted to be rich and famous, get the attention I had never gotten growing up. My strict parents were not exactly the affectionate kind. I had found acting through a day camp for girls that they had sent me to during the summer. There were always openings for the plays they put one every year and I was in almost every single one of them. In acting I could be the person I always wanted to be, could be anyone else but me. It was my escape route.

  I had thought it would take me right out of my mundane little life and it seemed like that dream would come true, at least. I was going to be taken out of my life on a permanent basis and soon but not in the way I had expected.

  Rebellion surged into me. Rebellion and a reserve of courage I had never known I had. I was going to fight him and I was going to get out of here alive, period. I was not willing to die politely for him or anyone else. I had dreams and plans and a life to live.

  I remained still and stubborn. I would not be obedient, and if it meant he would have to wash me I hoped it would be one more way I could make him see me as more than food.

  Without a word, Owen’s cold hands ran down my body. I gawped at him, all my thoughts of fighting him gone as he dipped a soft washcloth into the water, lathered a bar of sweet smelling soap into it and began to wash me.

  Foamy circles bloomed on my chest and my body responded to his fingers and the cloth as he soaped my breasts. My nipples tightened painfully at that touch. I raised my arms to protect them from his gaze and hands. If he noticed that gesture he did not give any sign of it. He wiped tenderly around my neck, clearing away more dried blood before washing my back with a strong, massaging motion.