Bite Me: A Vampire Anthology

by Cain, Addison

The men worked in unison to load her still roped body onto a wheeled cart just long enough for her torso. With no support for her head, it felt too heavy to hold up on its own. Her nose slammed into the side of the cart with enough force she felt it pop just before warm liquid dripped down to her mouth.

  Thirsty, she licked her parched lips, tasting the metallic flavor of her own blood as her nose dripped drops onto the ugly carpet they were pushing her across. The men seemed too busy navigating the cart around pieces of furniture and down long corridors with huge closed doors to notice she was leaving a stream of blood drops. It was strangely comforting to Lily, as if she were Hansel or Gretel, leaving a trail of her DNA behind should someone ever bother to look for her.

  The men worked in unison and were out of breath by the time they’d had to lift the wheeled cart up and down several stairs. The only time they spoke was to discuss the need to fix the broken elevator so they could avoid this chore when it was time to feed whatever was waiting for her in the pen.

  She’d assumed they were joking around earlier, but the deeper they got in the bowels of the stone building, the more dire Lily’s situation became. They’d drugged her and stripped her. It was clear the father wasn’t planning on her staying with them. So if they weren’t moving her to a vehicle to take her off-property, the options of what was about to happen started to close in on her until there was only one thought left.

  They were going to chop her up and feed her to some wild animal they kept in a pen.

  As insane as it sounded, her addled brain recognized the idea as the truth. And as panicked as she should feel, the drugs coursing through her body had done their job, dulling her ability to care. Her headache had faded. Her aching muscles were numb to the pain. All that was left was an odd curiosity and a churning stomach.

  An eternity later, the men stopped the cart in front of a mammoth wooden door. There were multiple locks and barricades to ensure whatever was behind it never broke out. On either side of the door was a rounded stone wall with old-fashioned sconces, the only source of light in the dark and dank space.

  She had to crane her neck to watch the old man step up to a peep hole at his eye level. He stood watching intently whatever was on the other side of the door for several long seconds until she had to again drop her head, unable to hold it up any longer.

  Lily closed her eyes, listening for clues. It sounded like the old man slid something on the door just before he shouted, “Dinner time!”

  It was absurd that she didn’t scream. She thought about it. She even wanted to, but her tongue and mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

  “You know what to do! If you don’t want to be burned again, stay back until you’re instructed otherwise.”

  It struck Lily odd that the Irishman gave instructions to the animal in the cage as if he might actually understand. Would it be a ferocious lion or tiger? Whatever it was, she prayed it would be over quickly. At least before the drugs stopped working.

  Like in the movies, she saw her life flashing before her eyes, but the drugs had to be strong, because it was as if her life was a blank slate. She tried to think of the life she was leaving behind. Glimpses of friends and family flitted through her memory, but none were able to rise in importance to a level that could beat the pharmaceuticals coursing in her.

  By the time the men had turned all of the keys and unbolted all of the locks, only one regret was able to take hold and remain in her thoughts. She’d never known love. Not really. She’d chased it. She’d settled with the wrong man, wasting years of her life. And now, here she was. She’d die alone with no one to miss her. No one to mourn her.

  A blinding white light lit the entire dank hallway as soon as the heavy door was cracked open. A gust of air swished into the hall, spreading an odd scent that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, especially when compared to Junior. The father and son waited, keeping the door only open a crack, peering in as if to make sure the coast was clear before finally pulling the door wide and shoving the wheeled cart out into the glaring whiteness.

  Lily slammed her eyes closed, grateful at least they were obeying her command even if the rest of her body wasn’t. Even with her eyes closed, the blazing light seeped through her eyelids as if she were lying on the beach on a sunny day. She held on to that vision as it brought her comfort as she heard the two men running back to the door, slamming it shut. The clanking of the locks and bars locking her in were the sound of fate.

  Again, she wanted to scream, but all she could muster was a groan. Every inch of her body ached, yet she knew it was nothing compared to what was yet to come.

  “You’ve proven ya can’t be trusted! I hope ya’s ready, cuz you’ll only have three minutes this time. Three minutes and then ya get burned.”

  It was the old man’s voice taunting the animal waiting to eat her, only it was really her he tortured, telling her she had three minutes to live. She wished she could remember the Lord’s Prayer or how to recite the rosary, but even without the drugs coursing through her veins, those words were lost to her years ago. She was on her own. No god was going to save her.

  And then it happened. The brightest of lights turned to pitch blackness. Lily opened her eyes, but it was as if she were blind. She squinted, trying to see anything. Even the door they’d wheeled her through was lost to the black.

  She’d never been afraid of the dark before, but then again she’d never been in a blackness so pitch it felt devoid of humanity. Even as she thought that, she recognized it had to be the drugs giving her the crazy thoughts. Her heart raced faster as she sat like a piece of meat thrown into a lion’s den—waiting to be ripped to shreds.

  Time was a funny thing in times of crisis. It both stood still and rushed past as she waited. Her ears perked, listening for any movement—any signs of life as she tried to ignore the growing headache and sour stomach.

  “Exquisite.”

  It was but a whisper. The single word had been uttered right next to her, despite her hearing no footsteps prior. She flinched violently in her binds.

  “Who’s there?” she shouted in her brain. The words were lost, however, somewhere between their thought and execution, coming out only as a forlorn moan.

  She felt the cart start to move through the pitch darkness, unsure how anyone could see well enough to navigate the blinding gloom. The floor was bumpy as she bounced along, falling deeper into a trancelike state with each foot they traveled.

  “Ten second warning!” This time, the old man’s voice sounded distant. It didn’t seem to impact the speed the person in the dark was moving. On the contrary, the trolley was moving slow and deliberate. The only indication she was not alone was the cart’s bouncing and the odd scent.

  The sounds of a new lock—closer this time—made it through her hazed brain. She was straining to pick up clues with only a soft glow flickering from across the room. It wasn’t bright at all, but after being in darkness, she had to squint at the adjustment. She lifted her head frantically to glance around the space.

  Through the dimness, she could make out books and papers piled everywhere. Shelves lined the walls, full of old-looking volumes from the historical section of a library. A mammoth desk sat near a roaring fireplace that sprang to life in a split second along with a few stray candles dispersed around the space.

  Lily craned her neck the other way, trying to see what was beyond an odd piece of furniture set up in the middle of the room. She held her head up long enough she felt the line of blood dripping from her still bleeding nose, spilling down her chin to splat on the expensive looking carpet.

  As she watched the red stain expand, two well-shined men’s dress shoes came into view next to her. The black dress pants looked frayed with age, yet clean. Was she hallucinating? She’d expected wild animals, not libraries and gentlemen.

  The drugs choose that moment to surge. She gagged, fighting against the urge to throw-up all over those fancy shoes.

  Lily flailed in her bonds, pain coursing through her as seconds t
urned to minutes. She still could not speak and she was grateful, because if she could, she knew without a doubt she’d be begging the stranger not to hurt her.

  Through it all, the shoes remained planted, not moving so much as an inch as the man stood above her, watching her writhe in agony. What was he thinking? Was he enjoying her plight? Why was he not speaking?

  She struggled until she had no energy left. She fell back against the cart in utter defeat, her face mashing back into the side as she released a sob. There was only one thing left to do.

  Wait to die.

  And then a hand was gentle on her hair, stroking her in an almost soothing way. She wished she had saved at least enough energy to be able to look up one last time to catch a glimpse of the man in the darkness. His touch calmed her brain, but flamed a new fire in her a bit lower. It was beyond primal and it annoyed her that her body was betraying her.

  She wished he would at least say something—anything.

  And then it happened. He squatted in front of her, thrusting the fingers that had been massaging her head soothingly into her messed hair. He yanked her head up with a force that could have broken her neck had he lifted her head so much as a quarter-inch more.

  It took a few seconds for her drug-addled brain to focus on his face, now only inches away from hers. When she did, the scream she’d been trying to get out finally came.

  It was the scarred face of a true monster.

  Thankfully, the darkness was back, claiming Lily for its victim. Her last thought was to pray she never woke up to find out what was about to happen to her.

  Chapter 2

  Taking in a long drag of her heavenly scent, he realized he had forgotten how amazing a beautiful woman could look and smell. It had been even longer since he’d felt the stir of desire in his loins at the thought of a woman’s touch. A rare spark of excitement ignited as he envisioned the beauty’s tight pussy clenching his cock as he rode her long and hard to his completion.

  As important as all of those sensations were, all he really cared about was how fantastic she was going to taste. He was literally starving for her.

  Armand von Kassel had had only fury as his companion for decades. Plotting his escape and ultimate revenge was a full-time job. With the introduction of the Irish idiots who had recently taken over his castle—and make no mistake, it was still his castle—he was finally on the verge of putting his plan into action.

  The thought of spending a few more days, let alone years, in his hellish captivity had become unbearable. While technically a year was just a blink of the eye for an immortal such as he, time had taken on a whole new dimension since he’d been careless enough to be trapped like a caged animal by his powerful enemies. He'd paid a high price for trusting the wrong people.

  Armand held the unconscious young woman’s head up while using his right index finger to swipe at the stream of bright red, healthy blood dripping down her chin. Just as some men enjoyed a fine wine, he raised the blood to his nose, taking a drag of her heavenly scent before swishing his tongue across the wet stain, savoring the rich flavor palate.

  As he expected, the only thing ruining his much anticipated next meal was the foul cocktail of St. John’s Wort, silver nitrate, and garlic extract coursing through her veins, contaminating her valuable blood. He lapped at the final drop on his finger, enjoying the sample, in spite of the burn it left behind on his tongue. He’d have to wait days to get his fill of her blood or he’d risk jeopardizing his own recovery.

  Armand’s cheeks lifted in a rare grin. He could think of a few fun things he could do to pass the time while he waited for the poison to leave her bloodstream.

  How long had it been since he’d fed from a young human woman? Flashes of a screaming redhead flipped through his memory. He pushed them away, refusing to focus on his first years in captivity when he’d been left to starve for years, wasting away in his dark haven that had turned into his hell. By the time they’d thrown the beauty in to him, he’d been crazed with hunger. He’d torn her apart like the animal his enemies had falsely accused him of being.

  Armand grabbed a pair of scissors from his mahogany desk and, with some effort, cut the ropes holding the naked woman captive. Her limp limbs flopped down, landing with enough momentum that her petite body almost rolled off the too-small cart. He reached to catch her just in the nick of time, cradling her in his arms as he carried her the few feet to the waiting devil’s throne.

  The walk wasn’t far, yet he was winded by the time he had her seated in the specialized chair he used to restrain his food source until he was done drinking his fill. It angered him that he was still so weak, yet then remembered that there was a time when he could have never carried her at all. His original captors had kept him so starved, he’d been able to do little more than hibernate in the early years. The realization that he was much stronger now than he had been just two years before pleased him.

  Not knowing how long she would be unconscious, he got to work securing her to the padded chair at the wrists, biceps, ankles, thighs, and waist. He briefly considered just carrying her to the couch near the fireplace instead, but had to acknowledge that he still wasn’t strong enough to subdue her should she try to fight him.

  And she would most certainly fight.

  Had he been at full strength, he’d have erased the ugly scars covering his body. If he were healthy again, he’d use his magnificent powers to enthrall her with an unspoken command, making the barbaric chair unnecessary.

  But at this precarious stage of his recovery, all energy must go towards ensuring his escape, which meant she’d be restrained for the duration of her service.

  It had been easier to stay focused on his recovery with the last few sacrificial food sources the Irish idiots had thrown to him. The elderly baker and the strong bricklayer had each served him well. He was determined to make the naked beauty no different, although the erection tenting his too-loose slacks would have called him a liar if it could talk.

  At the sound of the captive’s groan of pain as she started to regain consciousness, Armand used a thread of his power to snuff out the candles, leaving only the low glow of the fireplace across the room as the only light source.

  He was about to welcome her in German when she spoke.

  “Who’s there? Why am I tied down?”

  Armand switched to English seamlessly. “Stay calm, little one. I tied you so you did not hurt yourself.”

  The young beauty’s head spun to look into the shadows where he stood, camouflaged by the darkness.

  “Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?” she snapped, her anger stronger than her fear.

  He was filled with an out-of-place pride at her bravery. Most of his blood sources had been crying and begging for their freedom by now.

  “I’m afraid you have me confused with the Irish idiots upstairs. I am not responsible for your plight, although I confess, I will be benefiting from it greatly.”

  Why was he being so polite? He didn’t owe her anything.

  The woman’s small bark of laughter was like music to his ears. He hadn’t heard the sound of laughter in so long, he hadn’t known he’d missed it.

  “That’s my nickname for them too. They really are idiots.”

  For the second time in minutes, Armand caught himself smiling. He shook his head, chasing the lightness away, determined to keep his relationship with the captive all business. She was a means to his end. It would do no good to confuse their time together as anything but a step towards freedom.

  “Where is the wild animal? They said they were throwing me into a pen to be eaten.”

  The burning anger in his core flamed higher at her words. While technically true, he resented the analogy of what he did to a beast’s actions. They may have reduced him to that wild animal through starvation, but he had not been so barbaric in the first centuries of his immortality.

  “There is no wild animal,” he barked defensively.

  “Then why am I being restrained? Can�
��t I go home?”

  She wouldn’t like his answers to those questions, so he ignored them.

  “Try to relax.”

  “I can’t. I feel sick. I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “It’s the cocktail of drugs they gave you. They won’t hurt you, but will make you nauseous.”

  And completely incapacitate me.

  Armand crossed to the small wet-bar near the door to his haven. He filled a glass with tap water before approaching his new guest from behind. He reached around to her face with the glass, holding it up to her lips.

  “You need to drink a lot of water to start flushing the drugs out of your system faster.”

  She took a few swigs, clearly thirsty, as excess water splashed down her chin to her pert breasts, mingling with the streak of blood already there.

  “I don’t want to drink too much. I need to pee,” she commented between gulps.

  “I have a bucket for that.”

  “I don’t like to camp.”

  His chuckle escaped before he could stop it. He was beginning to wonder if she was brave or stupid.

  “I can assure you, neither do I.”

  “Good. Then undo me and show me where the bathroom is. I need a shower. And what do you have to eat? I’m starving,” she asked.

  Her assertiveness under the conditions astounded him. “Excuse me?”

  She had no idea what starvation really felt like. He’d survived years with nothing but a gnawing need as his only companion. He would not be distracted from achieving his well-deserved revenge.

  Undeterred, she pressed. “What’s your name?”

  She had started to crane her neck to look back at him. He took a step back into the darkness as he answered. “That’s not important.”

  “I’m Lily Lewis. I’m American, but I’m living in Paris. Are we in Ireland?”

  That explained a lot. Every American he’d had the displeasure of meeting over the centuries had been just as bold.

  “Not that it matters, but we are most certainly not in Ireland. We are both being held captive in the dungeon of Schloss von Kassle, my ancestral home in the mountains of Austria.”