“Austria? How the hell did they have time to transport me all the way here?”
He didn’t know why he was curious. “Where were you when the idiots took you?”
“Near Versailles. I work near there.”
A homesickness he hadn’t felt in years, spurred him to say more than he should. “I have another home near there. I used to spend high season in Paris each year. The Belle Époque was grand.” He stopped short of disclosing how much he had enjoyed gorging himself on the blood of the debutantes, soiling them, and then wiping their memories before they could be married off to the pimple-faced aristocrats of the day. Ruining unwitting virgins had been a favorite folly of his in his early years of being turned.
“I didn’t think anyone still used the term Belle Époque anymore.”
Her reply was a reminder he needed to be more careful. This little spitfire was no Irish idiot. Nor did he suspect her of being a naive virgin either.
He tested her by switching to a language he hadn’t had the opportunity to speak in over two decades. “Peut-être, mais à mon époque, c'était à la mode.”
Her own French reply was the impeccable translation of, “And when exactly was your day?”
He didn’t think it wise to let her know he’d been born in 1789, the year the French Revolution had begun.
He answered in English. “Before you were born, I’m afraid.”
“So how long have you been down here?” she probed.
Sadly, he repeated. “Before you were born, I’m afraid.”
“What? No way! You’ve been down here twenty-five years?”
He didn’t know why, but he answered honestly. “I am not entirely sure. What year is it now?”
“You don’t know what year it is?”
“I know many things, but sadly, that is not one of them.”
“Wow. That sucks.”
Her crude reply wouldn’t be his chosen response, but it somehow fit the occasion. “Yes, it does… as you say… suck. What I do know is I was entrapped on September 1st, 1999.”
“Holy shit. So that was almost twenty years ago. I would have been starting kindergarten on that day.”
Armand was used to feeling older than most, but hearing the beauty put it in those terms fueled his anger. So much time wasted. He would not rest until he’d made his enemies suffer and die at his own hand. He had grand plans of revenge and a young American woman named Lily Lewis did not have a place in those plans other than to stay alive long enough for him to grow strong and escape.
He pushed her name out of his brain. He didn’t want to think of her with a lovely name that reminded him of his mother’s favorite flower. That personalized what he was going to have to do to her. He must think of her as merely a means to an end.
“I’ll get you more water,” he added, distracted.
“No. I told you. I need a toilet.”
Armand went to the closet near the door and pulled out the five gallon bucket he’d used for the previous inhabitants of the devil’s chair. The seat was high enough that the bucket slid underneath.
It angered him that he hesitated before stepping around to the front of the chair. He’d never been self-conscious of his burned skin with the previous captives. She’d be dead in a week. What did it matter if he scared the shit out of her?
They each gasped as their eyes met for the first time. He’d expected her reaction to his burn scars, but he hadn’t anticipated his own surprise as he took in her youthful allure. She was a natural beauty, despite the bruise on her cheekbone. Even in the dim lighting, the caramel cream color swirled in her brown eyes, threatening to hypnotize him.
“Was there a fire?” she asked quietly.
He couldn’t blame her for the logical question.
He’d never had to explain the ordeal before. “Something like that,” he said as he remembered to place the bucket beneath her. Only inches away from her, he could smell the faint scent of the vanilla lotion she’d put on that day before she’d been snatched. So simple, yet it was the first taste of femininity he’d brushed up against in decades. He was used to feeling fury, but was not accustomed to this new anger that flared, recognizing it was anger on her behalf.
She didn’t deserve to have her life forfeited because an Irish idiot was horny.
Armand inhaled a deep breath, relieved when he only scented trace amounts of the foul captors on her. Had she been raped, the stench would be overwhelming. Seconds later his relief was replaced with renewed anger. Anger at himself for even caring. He needed to stay focused and not get distracted.
“I’ll never be able to go in a bucket, and I’m feeling sick to my stomach. You seriously need to untie me.”
Her boldness was beginning to irk him. People feared him. Enemies were supposed to cower. And defenseless women, like Lily Lewis, were supposed to quiver at his feet before falling under his spell.
“It doesn’t work like that,” he retorted.
“So how exactly does it work then?”
Her expressive eyes pored into him even as he towered over her. Other than her slightly elevated heart rate, she seemed unfazed by her nakedness in front of a stranger.
“It’s simple. You follow directions. Period.”
“That doesn’t work for me.” She paused before asserting, “I need to pee. I need to puke and then brush my teeth. I need sleep. In that order.”
What a spitfire. He squashed the smile that threatened and forced a gruff tone as he responded.
“Well, I have needs too, and top of the list is keeping you tied in this chair while we wait for the drugs to work their way out of your system.”
“But that could take days.”
“Yes.”
She looked around the dark room before challenging him again. “And where is it you think I’m going to go exactly? Aren’t we locked in here?”
Armand turned his back on her, walking back to his desk to put distance between them. It was ludicrous that it felt wrong to lie to her, yet lie he must.
“Of course we are.”
At least he was since the real bonds that held him were the hundreds of specialized UV lamps that flooded the brick moat around the circular room. The irony was he’d built the dark haven as his own private paradise. His enemies had modified the space to trap him and then to ensure that even if he survived passing through the endless sunlight, they’d lined the exterior wall of the dungeon with threads of silver, creating an impenetrable wall.
But Lily Lewis would not be held by sunlight or silver. The locks on the exterior door were her only true deterrent to escape, save the devil’s throne.
Impossible. For the first time in twenty-years, a crushing wave of remorse hit him. Not once over the years had he felt a sliver of guilt for forfeiting the lives of the previous donors. Sure, he’d fed from them, but other than the redhead, they had died of their own starvation since he had no sustenance to offer them other than water. When their suffering had grown great, he’d taken mercy and put them out of their misery, casting himself into solitary confinement again until the next donor would arrive months later.
He hated the idea of watching the beauty behind him suffer the same fate, but it couldn’t be helped. He was too close now. He’d missed the opportunity to overpower them today and she’d never live long enough to make it to the next feeding when he planned to overpower the Irish idiots when they came to deliver the next blood source.
The sound of Lily gagging drew his attention back to her. The drugs were beginning to hit her hard. He rushed back to her, taking the bucket from beneath the devil’s throne and holding it up just in time as she started to be sick.
Playing nursemaid on the first days of their captivity was a service he was accustomed to providing his donors. He didn’t enjoy it in the least, yet if he were honest with himself, he did enjoy reaching out to hold the beauty’s long dark hair away from her face as she spit into the bucket. The strands of hair felt like the finest silk between his fingers.
&n
bsp; While she felt the ill effects of the drugs, he took the opportunity to study her closely. Small triangles of milky-white skin stood out at the tips of each pert and tanned breast.
Lily liked to sunbathe in her tiny bikini.
She wore several pairs of earrings in her right ear and a trail of tiny paw-print tattoos along her neck to her shoulder.
Lily liked to be inked and pierced.
A traditionalist, Armand had never considered such adornments necessary on the women he’d courted, yet he found himself wishing he could mark her body in his own special way. His teeth marks would look perfect nestled into her neck with the paw-prints.
Armand shook his head to try to knock some sense into himself. This was just another sign that he was truly starting to heal. It had been decades since he’d allowed such trivial thoughts. He needed to concentrate on only mission-critical things and that meant he had to stop wondering if Lily had a tiny triangle of white skin near her pussy where her bikini bottoms had covered her at the beach.
After she finished retching, Armand brought her another glass of water, forcing her to finish every drop by returning his hand to her hair and holding her head still with force.
“Drink it. You need to stay hydrated to flush the drugs out faster. It’s the only thing that will help you feel better.”
While technically true, he knew from experience that once the drugs had left her body, the days of hunger would begin to take their toll next followed by the drain of his feeding.
“Can I please go to the bathroom? You do have a bathroom, right?”
“Of course, but…”
“Please… I promise, I can’t go anywhere,” she begged.
Those caramel-swirled orbs pleaded with him. Dare he risk releasing her? She could dash out into the artificial sunlight and be lost to him. It could set his plans back months. He needed to feed from her if he was to have the power to follow-through with his plan.
He’d already unbuckled her right arm and wrist before he realized he’d made a decision. It felt less like a decision and more like instincts when he knelt in front of her to unbuckle each of her ankles and thighs. A rare glimpse of something close to déjà vu flashed too fast to grasp, but the snapshot calmed him.
“I’ll release the waist belt and then you’ll follow me to the bathroom. You can use the facilities and bathe and then return to me when you are finished.”
“Do I have any other choice?”
He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like the question.
“Of course not.” he admitted. “Now, follow me.”
Armand released the final restraint, hoping he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake in his nearly two-hundred and thirty years on the earth. He was too close to achieving his goal to let it slip through his fingers now.
He helped Lily to her feet. Between being tied for so long and the effects of the drugs, she was weak enough that she needed to lean on him all the way to the door to the bath chamber. It was his own torture to feel the soft curves of her body molded so perfectly against him.
While vampires didn’t need the facilities for the same reasons as their human counterparts, he was grateful to have had the opulent bathing chamber at his disposal the last twenty years. His captivity would have been infinitely more unbearable without the small luxury of bathing and shaving.
Lily’s surprised whistle as he flipped on the light switch brought another smile to his lips.
He forced a gruffness into his parting command before leaving her alone. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Chapter 3
An hour later, Lily was finally feeling marginally more like herself. After another bout of sickness, the good soak in a whirlpool bath was restorative. She felt only slightly guilty rummaging through the cabinets until she found an unopened toothbrush, but could find no trace of toothpaste.
Only once she’d rid herself of the sour taste did she pick up the old-fashioned hairbrush lying on an ornate mirrored tray and use it to comb the knots out of her still wet hair.
There was only one thing left to do before returning to the odd prison and even odder fellow prisoner. She still didn’t even know his name. Only that they were in his castle in Austria and that he’d been held captive there for twenty years.
She had so many questions, she didn’t even know where to begin. The only thing she did know with some clarity was that she was not going to parade back out there naked. After brushing her wet hair, she investigated behind a closed door. Lily flipped on the lights and was surprised to find a massive walk-in closet with racks and shelves full of dozens of tailored suits, tuxedos, and linen dress shirts. A dozen perfectly shined dress shoes were next to a rack of ties and belts. The room was almost big enough to pass for a gentleman's clothing store and had the same comforting scent of the odd prisoner.
She caught a glimpse of her naked body in the three-way mirror. The rope burns on her wrists and ankles pissed her off, but not nearly as much as the darkening bruise on her face. She wasn't one to wear a lot of makeup, but she was self-conscious about it.
Then she remembered the horrific burns the other captive had on his face and knew he'd suffered much worse. At least her wounds would heal when she got out of there. And she would get out of there. She wasn't sure she believed that he'd been held captive for twenty years.
Lily looked through the slightly faded white linen men's dress shirts, pulling the softest and most worn one from its hanger and sliding it on. It was large enough to be a makeshift dress. The sleeves were so long she had to roll them up at the cuff. She regretted having no panties, but it couldn't be helped.
It felt even darker when she returned to the main living space now that she had the alternatively bright bathroom to compare to. She stopped just inside the room, squinting into the darkness. Had he lied to her? Had he escaped and left her there alone?
She jumped when he spoke against her ear. “Feel better?” He was seriously stealthy.
“Much, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder and their eyes met. Most people would be afraid of someone who looked so burned, but she was honestly just so happy she hadn’t been thrown into a den of lions for food that Lily found it almost a relief to not be in captivity alone.
“I see you helped yourself to my favorite shirt.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind. You have so many and it’s not like you have anywhere to…” She let her voice trail off. It seemed rude to remind him that he was trapped, after all he knew that better than she did having been there for twenty years to her few hours.
“Ah, yes, but I have grand plans for those clothes. I will be needing them again very soon.”
The news brought her hope. He had an escape plan.
“That’s great. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here, too.” After she spoke, she again realized how her words sounded and tried to backpedal. “I mean, I can’t believe you’ve been down here most of my life. I’m sure you’re excited to get things back to normal.”
“You have no idea.”
Lily turned to face him and went to work trying to get answers to the plethora of questions she had. “So I bet you’ll be happy to see your friends and family again. They have to be really worried about what’s happened to you, right?”
The flash of fury that filled his face frightened her. She took an involuntary step away out of self-preservation as he answered her.
“The only people I’ll be happy to see again will be my enemies—as they burn in front of me.”
Many people say things like that as exaggerations while angry, yet she somehow knew with a certainty that her unlikely companion meant every single word… literally. Why didn’t that scare her more?
“Don’t you think it’s time that you at least tell me your name? I mean, I told you mine, and since it looks like we’re going to be stuck here together until we escape, it would be nice to call you something.”
He hesitated awkwardly before answering, “I don’t normally share persona
l information with my visitors.”
“I hardly think your name…” Her voice trailed off as it dawned on her. “Wait, how many other visitors like me have there been? And more importantly, where are they now?”
She may have just met him, but she was certain that was guilt on his face before he walked past her towards his desk, avoiding answering the question.
She stomped after him, not wanting him to get out of answering her. “I mean it. The Irish idiots made it sound like this is something they do often which means others have been sent down here. Where the fuck are they?”
Lily hated the panic in her voice as more questions flooded in, threatening to overwhelm her.
“Well?” she prompted when he had the audacity to take a seat in the chair behind the mammoth desk as if nothing was amiss. “I deserve answers,” she pressed.
“Ah, Lily, we both deserve many things, but I have learned life has no obligation to provide us that which we deserve.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she spat angrily. “I think you’ve been down here too long.”
His cool gray eyes met hers as he replied. “On that we can agree.”
She reached out and pounded on the desk with a closed fist. “What aren’t you telling me? I’m missing something… big.”
He had the audacity to sigh impatiently before replying. “Perhaps, but it won’t make you feel any better to get answers, so I advise you to be careful what you ask for fear that I just may provide you with the truth.”
The man was talking in riddles, yet she heard the edge to his tone and was smart enough to take him seriously. Her breath was heavy with anxiety as she thought through her questions and the options for getting answers.
“Fine. Then just give me your name to start.”
“Why is that so—”
“Because…” she cut him off, their eyes boring into each other as she stood over his desk. She watched him carefully for any reaction as she added, “… I’m hoping you won’t want to murder me as much if you share your name with me.”
Bite Me: A Vampire Anthology Page 28