Wordless: new adult paranormal romance (Age of Blood Book 1)

by May Sage

  Wordless

  May Sage

  ISBN-13: 978-1530859115

  ISBN-10: 1530859115

  WordlesS

  Blessed are the hearts that can bend;

  They shall never be broken.

  - Albert Camus

  One

  She'd been five the day the vampires took over; she’d never known any other world.

  Fay had it better than most in town; she was an AB neg and a virgin, to boot. In this world, that meant something.

  Shoulders back, spine straight, she repeated her usual motto to herself before walking in the dreaded drawing room.

  It could be worse.

  “Vincent,” the exquisite ebony beauty seated in front of her master cooed when Fay entered the overly dramatic chamber where most guests were received, tray in hand.

  She was carrying four cocktails with an alcohol content so high the scent was enough to intoxicate her.

  “Isn't she delightful!”

  Fay was used to her master showing her off, just like he displayed his collection of knockoff bric-a-brac he loved to call antiques; he summoned her every time he had company.

  There were three strangers in the room now; the woman, and two men, who all looked close to her age. That meant nothing: vampires usually seemed to be somewhere between twenty and thirty. What mattered were their eyes. The older they were, the more inhuman they became.

  While her master, the black beauty, and one of the strangers could have passed for humans – at least, if they’d had collars around their necks; every human in this house did – the last man in the room never would have been able to.

  His eyes were glowing like sapphires, frightening and stunning beyond belief.

  Worse yet: they weren't leaving her.

  Her nipples erected – a simple and natural reaction to his mesmerizing, penetrating gaze – but given the fact that she wore absolutely nothing, save for the chains on her hands and feet, she blushed knowing they all saw it.

  If they'd been kind, they would have ignored it, but they were vampires, so they openly laughed at her expense.

  She looked away from the ancient and concentrated on her job: setting their cocktails in front of them.

  When she passed the younger stranger, he put his hand on her thigh, between her legs and caressed her there, before thrusting a finger deep inside her.

  She didn't make a sound.

  “Careful,” Master Vincent said, narrowing his eyes. “She's pure. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Of course,” the vampire replied, knowing what that meant: he was allowed to do whatever he pleased with her, save from fucking her.

  Fay was lucky she was plain, despite the appeal of her blood and her purity, or she might have suffered more. Cece, her cousin, was a remarkable beauty, and an O positive. She got fucked everywhere, by everyone, every day.

  The vampire curved his finger and circled her clit with his thumb until she couldn't help it: she had to come.

  Just when she gasped a wordless cry of pleasure, he took her wrist and bit down. His now extended fangs only grazed her skin: she was there for their pleasure, not to feed them. Thankfully, and somewhat surprisingly, the vampires had passed a law clearly stipulating that the bulk of their sustenance had to come from animal or synthetic sources. Vincent obeyed that rule – mostly. It meant keeping his slaves alive as long as he wished to.

  Her orgasm was explosive, as usual. Whatever could be said about vampires, they definitely knew their way around vaginas, and the familiar sharp pain never failed to hone her senses.

  More laughter erupted around the table. Fay kept her eyes low on the ground but in the corner, she caught a glance of the old vampire again.

  He wasn't laughing. Not even smiling.

  “Fuck. That was good.”

  The vampire slapped one of her ass cheeks, before bringing his hand to his lips and licking his fingers clean of her body fluids.

  Gosh, bloodsuckers were so classy.

  “How did you acquire such a delicacy, Vincent?”

  A valid question: Vincent wasn't what one would call a powerful master. He owned his home and the little village of mortals around it was his to command, but Fay knew of vampires who held entire cities within their grasp. There was talk that New York belonged to just one vampire – one who was considered royalty, to them.

  Bottom line: Vincent could never have afforded to buy an AB neg virgin. His middle name might as well have been Nobody.

  “She’s from Riverville,” he replied, smirking.

  When the vampire had emerged fifteen years ago, they'd only asked for recognition, and acceptance. Obviously, the humans had some things to say about that; hate groups flourished overnight, stalking any vampire they found, attempting to kill them during the day. They'd called them abominations, monsters.

  Fay was quite certain the press had exaggerated the whole thing to justify their reaction, but be that as it may, she recalled enough of that period to agree that they hadn’t been welcomed with open arms.

  In the end, Bram Stoker had been humanity’s downfall: the detractors should have read Twilight, rather than Dracula. Vampires didn't need to sleep during the day; they simply preferred being active at night because the sun hurt their eyes. That meant that not only could they react to raids at noon, but they also woke up cranky as hell. Turned out, garlic and crosses had also been pretty useless against them.

  After a month, they decided that they actually didn’t need to endure the persecution, and they struck back. It took them three days to change the world to their advantage: they’d just murdered everyone who opposed them or questioned their authority. Then, they'd sat down calmly, and divided their new playground amongst their upper class.

  Vincent, an inconsequential, lowly fiend with a drop of noble blood – as he openly admitted – was given Riverville, a small country dwelling with under five thousand inhabitants. Amongst them had been little Fay Turner and her now deceased doting parents.

  Fay was lucky. He might have called her to serve in his home the moment he smelt her blood, but he gave her a dozen precious years of freedom to go to school, and grow into a woman. Thankfully, he was no pedophile.

  Each time she compared him to the other vampires she’d met in his home, she counted her blessings. His boyish good looks – reddish brown hair, pouty mouth – made interactions with him bearable; especially given the fact that he didn’t have many kinks. He just liked to share her; when he did so, he always ensured that his guests didn’t damage her.

  It could be worse.

  How many times did she say those words to herself every day?

  “You're so lucky,” the ebony vampire sighed, tapping the table. “On here, child.”

  Fay knew better than to point out she was twenty-one; not a child, by any stretch of imagination. She obeyed, sitting on the hard wood.

  “Good girl. On your knees, face down, ass up.”

  She assumed the familiar position, and closed her eyes as she felt a wet, rough tongue lapping at her. Whose was it? No idea. It doesn't matter, she told herself.

  Fangs pierced the skin of her thighs, arms and legs, and she was lost in pain and pleasure, unable to stop herself from uttering a moan, this time.

  She didn’t like to make sounds; they loved it, so keeping her mouth shut was her only way to say fuck you.

  She bit her lip to stop herself from betraying how their touch made her feel…

  Then, he spoke.

  She wasn’t sure how she knew it was him, the old one. Perhaps because everyone else in the room froze, or because the voice held more
authority than anything she’d ever heard.

  “Enough.”

  Just like that, the three vampires stopped stroking her. Fay was relieved and slightly aggravated, too. In one hand, she hated feeling like a helpless rag doll, existing for their entertainment; she should have been ecstatic about the unexpected deliverance. On the other hand… she was very aroused, and he’d interrupted them before her release. She was confused, on edge, and wanting.

  A first for her, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “We’re here to discuss business, are we not?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Vincent cleared his throat, before saying, “I’ve never dealt with Adrian Klein

  personally. However, we frequent the same circles. I’d be delighted to tell you what I know.”

  Hell. Vincent was openly lying.

  Fay didn't move one muscle, but her heartbeat betrayed her. She desperately willed it to slow down.

  She knew Adrian Klein; he was a frequent visitor in the house. He’d bitten her so many times she couldn’t hope to count them.

  There had been no touches from him, though – oh, no. Adrian preferred men, to her endless joy: unlike most, who simply relished in humiliation, he loved inflicting excruciating pain.

  Most probably hearing the frantic rhythm of her heart, Vincent tapped the table, demanding her attention. She lifted her head.

  “Go, girl. You have an exam to study for, don't you?”

  She nodded and left as fast as she could without running.

  William sighed, tired of the gentle approach. If it had been up to him, the liar in front of him would have been hanging by his entrails, slowly bleeding on his ridiculously theatric red carpet, until he consented to speak.

  It wasn't solely up to him; not anymore. Now, they had a fucking government. One of the million stupid things which had resulted from the Great Reveal fifteen years ago.

  He'd been against coming out of the shadows at the time, and every single year, he was proven right. Vampires were old souls, reluctant to change; that meant the industrial progress that hadn’t slowed down for centuries had suddenly come to a close. They’d entered the Age of Blood, as the media loved to call it. Fitting, really. Now the thing that mattered most was the type of blood running in your veins.

  Many vampires saw it as an improvement; William knew that soon enough, they'd be back to tapping stones to build fires.

  Well, he amended, looking at the delightful ass of the petite brunette who fled out of the lounge, not every change was for the worse. In another life, a woman like her would never have crossed his path.

  She would have been a good girl, probably married right out of college, with a kiddy on the way by twenty-five.

  William’s contact with humans had solely been with those who were part of the decadent society, those who had no issue with power play, biting, and blood; those who unabashedly loved pain, as well as sex.

  Nowadays, he could enjoy what he loved: normalcy. Generally, he didn’t; he stuck to women who loved it rough – larger, experienced women who could take him.

  That being said, he’d been tempted to slum it.

  He would have loved to taste that pretty little thing, but orgies weren't his thing; the dozens of bites marring her skin had disgusted him. Revolted him. He'd wanted to throw her over his shoulder, take her out of there and take care of her until she craved nothing and no one but him.

  And where the bloody hell had that come from?

  Forcing himself to concentrate on the present situation, he smiled pleasantly at the liar.

  “Thank you. Any information on his whereabouts or his activities would be helpful.”

  “I’m not sure I can be of much help. Adrian owns the best synthetic blood factory in the state, so I get my supplies from him; that’s our main connection. But I’ve also bought into some of his ventures; only a few thousand worth of shares. As I am an investor, I do get updates, from time to time. A few weeks ago, he informed us that he was heading to London.”

  William promptly crossed London from the list of potential hideouts. Sure, Vincent might have tried to play him – counting on him to believe the opposite of what he said – but chances were, he just wasn’t that clever.

  “There’s nothing untoward about his company, right?” Vincent asked, playing the part of a concerned business associate.

  “Not that I know of. The King has summoned him a month ago now – and he's not happy about being ignored.”

  Actually the King didn't give a fuck about Adrian; William, on the other hand, cared very much.

  “I can imagine. Why has he been summoned?”

  William’s eyes flashed silver – a brief, silent warning – and Vincent looked away. Good, the man wasn't a total idiot.

  “Nothing of importance. Well, I see there's no cause for my being here, after all. Jessica, Mark.”

  His captain and his soldier rose, leaving the room before him to get the car ready.

  Then, just as he'd reached the doorframe, as though it had barely been an afterthought, William turned back and said:

  “By the way… that AB neg?”

  Vincent appeared surprised; he'd probably noticed he hadn't touched her or paid much attention to her. Openly, at least.

  “What about her?”

  William served him his best smile.

  “How much do you want for her?”

  She'd gone back to her small, barren bedroom; a single bed with a thin cover under which she shivered every winter, barred windows, a small wardrobe, and in the corner, a tiny school desk mostly taken up by an antediluvian computer. Next to it, stood the only thing that allowed her to stay sane: her bookcase.

  They were all given a treat every week; some asked for clothes, or chocolate. One hundred and sixty-seven books stood proudly, each of them marking one week in that dreadful place.

  Fay sat behind her desk and as she'd been asked to, opened her textbooks.

  She already had a bachelor’s degree, but Vincent was making her take a master’s. Slaves like her had one common purpose: they were there to impress. Occasionally, she was required to talk – and when she did so, she had to stand out.

  It was far from a chore, as he’d let her choose the subject: literature. She got to lose herself in the purest form of escapism every day.

  Not right now though; her body, cheated of an orgasm, just wouldn’t let her concentrate.

  After a while, she gave up and put her fingers between her legs, trying to get the edge off by herself. She'd never been very good at that.

  She sighed, returning to damn Oscar Wilde, but the words wouldn't make sense in her mind, until suddenly, a sentence stuck out.

  Resist it, and your soul grows sick with the longing for the things it has forbidden itself.

  Lord Henry was the wisest of men.

  Attempting again, she closed her eyes and wet a finger with her lips before caressing her clit.

  Better.

  Her moan surprised her, making her smile. Another hand tentatively touched her nipples. This was getting interesting.

  She'd been masturbating for a good five minutes when she realized why it was uncommonly pleasurable: she’d closed her eyes and managed to fool herself into believing that someone else’s fingers were on her skin. Nothing alarming in that, but she recognized the face of the partner she’d conjured in her mind.

  Hell. That old vampire.

  She might have chastised herself for it, but she could understand the fascination.

  Most vampires loved to fit the stereotype, with dark, edgy clothing; capes, sometimes. He'd worn a smart, sharp, light blue suit that failed to hide his lean musculature, and his dark golden hair had been a mess – he rocked the just fucked look.

  Shit. What a poor excuse for a human she was, lusting after someone who saw her as an entertaining toy, or maybe an appetizer.

  She'd decided to take a shower when the door of her bedroom opened; no knock, so she
immediately dropped to her knees, her head hanging low.

  Another human would have asked permission to enter; they generally respected each other.

  She wondered who it could be; Vincent himself, or one of the others, who had permission to enjoy whomever they pleased? She wasn’t the most popular choice: they weren’t allowed to bite her without an express authorization, and penetrating her wasn’t an option either… but as she’d learnt over the last three years, there were plenty of other things to do.

  “For Christ’s sake, get up!”

  For the first time since she'd been brought to the house, she failed to obey an order; instead, she lifted her head and stared, open mouthed, in shock.

  It was him. The object of her dirty fantasy. She could only gawk and blush, recalling what he’d just been up to – at least, in her overactive mind.

  “Do you have clothes here?”

  It took her a while, but she managed to gather her wits, and nodded.

  Sometimes, when they were having a formal ball, Vincent liked to show her off with clothing. Of a sort.

  “Then get dressed. We don't have a lot of time.”

  Finally finding her voice, she replied:

  “I don't understand.”

  Then, with a few simple words, he forever changed her world. For better or worse, she couldn't yet tell.

  “I've bought you.”

  Two

  William was pleasantly surprised.

  He had seen his fair share of slaves; he could generally tell which ones had lost their spirits.

  In the lounge, he would have sworn she had. She’d reeked of fear, without a single strand of rebellion in her demeanor. She’d been an automat, a doll coming on demand. Even as he bought her, he wondered if she would ever manage to adapt to the life he wanted to give her.

  The woman he saw in front of his eyes now was a completely new kettle of fish.

  Her eyes had questions, and she met his gaze. Sure, she looked away after a while, but he had hope.