by Jez Strider
“How much?” A voice from behind me asked.
An increasingly familiar odor made my nostrils flare. Rot. Death. He was infected. I turned around to look at the man. His extremities, fingers, lips, and nose, were in an advanced state of necrosis. And he still wanted to buy my sex. I seriously doubted he could manage what he was offering to pay for. Tears flowed from my eyes and fell silently as I looked at what I would shortly become.
“Sorry, I am not….”
A plain, poor looking woman brushed by me and stepped in front of the man with a hand on one hip. From behind her, I could see by the motion of her arms she had tugged down the front of her dress to show him her goods. “I will service you.” She said, taking him by the hand, his blackened fingers entwining in hers as she led him away for a bit of privacy.
She’s going to die.
I wanted to stop her and warn her, but she had to know. Either she didn’t care or maybe she was already ill. Instead of saying anything, I fled again. Only, there was nowhere to go. If I went to my mother, she could contract my disease. Dante hated me. And none of my previous lovers would dare touch me if they suspected my illness. Antonio was gone. Not that I would have put him at risk more than I already had.
Eventually, I collapsed to the ground from the day’s traumas and exertion. It must have been hours before I came around because it was dark when I weakly opened my eyes. No one helped me. No one even looked in my direction. I crawled over to glance at my reflection in the moonlit water of the canal. Black Death shrouded me. The woman staring back at me was different from the one I’d seen in the mirror that morning. I curled into a ball as my muscles cramped and my body shook violently from the chills.
The superstitions are true. I thought. Vampires spread this god awful ailment to punish us. My hand went up to gingerly touch the bite mark. It had changed. The entire side of my neck was swollen and felt like it would burst open. Disgusting and painful buboes appeared at the sight of my lymph nodes.
Time is up. Goodbye, world.
At some point, hours or days later, I managed to drag myself into a hidden nook in a dark passage. The alley reeked of feces, urine, rotten vegetables, and death. Most of the city was kept clean, but this area had deteriorated.
The agony of my disease caused me to pass out again. The next time I roused, someone was gently stroking my hair away from my face. The touch comforted me, despite the pain it caused. Had I died? I wondered, but no, I knew I would not be hurting if I was dead. Unless I was in Hell.
“Open your eyes, my dear.” A soothing voice said. He sounded far away though his presence in front of me told me he was close.
“I cannot. Far too heavy. Go away before I give you the plague.” I turned my head away from the caressing fingers.
“Do not disobey me. Open your eyes.”
Dante.
From somewhere deep down I dug up the strength to open them and meet his gaze. The luminous color of his irises and the flowing of the white locks of his hair made him look like an angel. My heart leapt a little and I regretted ever disappointing him.
“I am sorry, Master Sanuto.” I said. My voice came out in a harsh croak.
“Why?” His tone massaged me into relaxation, seemed to take the edge off the pain.
For not loving you.
“For being a foolish girl. You gave me everything I could have ever wanted.”
He scooped me into his arms easily. My head rested against his chest. Safety. His heartbeat began to lull me into an induced coma. I could barely hear what he said. It sounded like, “I forgive you.”
If ever I loved Dante Sanuto, it was in that moment, during that embrace. The cruel monster he could be lay dormant and, in his arms, I met the man he should have been. He was my savior.
Somewhere in between consciousness, sleep, and an unreal dream world, the moment that would change me forever came. Disease would not take my life. A different affliction would save it.
A scrape against my neck made me shift uncomfortably. It was the opposing, less damaged side. Hands held me pinned to the bed. The pain didn’t last long. It kind of gave me relief, something different to focus on. I wanted to open my eyes, but I couldn’t wake up. Each second the lips suckled on my neck, the weakness in my body grew greater. The mouth left me at the moment when my heart struggled to beat any longer.
When the person beside me came close again, something fleshy pressed against my lips. Liquid instantly coated and healed my dry throat. It tasted metallic. I didn’t recognize it as blood in my state. All I knew was that I wanted more. My rotting, plague ridden body healed with each gulp. Each sip gave me energy and strength. The hair on my arms stood up as my skin tingled. It was like each cell in my body sprang to life.
“Beautiful once more, Evelina.”
A guttural purr escaped me and I opened my eyes wide to see Dante Sanuto. My nails had dug into his arm until he was bleeding from the wounds, not just the slit on his wrist firmly pressing into my mouth. He pushed me down to the mattress after prying his wrist free from my grasp and I knew he was going to take me. That’s when I let myself believe what I’d done, that I had been drinking blood. This realization sent my eyes rolling back in my head and I fainted.
After harsh lessons on feeding and lies about vampires, I discovered the Dante I thought I had met when he rescued me had disappeared. He forced me to kill an innocent during my first feeding and I did nothing to stop it. I was evil, blood my addiction, and night my solace.
In those early days, before I had stopped telling Dante I loved him, he would watch the stars with me as he stroked my long hair with his fingers. He would tell me stories of wars and places I had never been. Sweetly, I’d smile and nod, even ask questions. We had fled Italy and were now living in France. If being kept in captivity could be called living.
No matter what Dante said or did, in the end I was a pampered prisoner… a slave to his whims. Worst of all, my heart remained in Venice where I had loved completely for a short time. Perhaps that was where it belonged because I was no longer myself, just a cold shell of a woman.
Eternally miserable.
Vampire.
“I love you, my Queen.”
With effort, I answered as he required. “I love you, Master.”
From the Author
To learn more about Evelina and her life as a vampire, check out book one in the Vamp Life series, Vampire’s Eve. Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated.
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