The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Heather Hildenbrand

  A noise came from outside my door.

  “Has she requested anything yet?” a muffled female voice asked.

  “Nothing. She’s just quietly sitting in there,” a male voice answered.

  I frowned and looked around the ceiling again, not seeing any cameras.

  “Get me a nutria-pack.”

  A moment later, my door opened, and a beautiful woman with long dark hair strode in. I stood as she took a step into my small room. For a long moment, we stared at each other.

  She didn’t look like a kidnapper. Not that I’d ever knowingly seen a kidnapper. She wore a cream business suit that made her look like a crossbred supermodel social worker.

  “My name is Julia,” she said, holding out an oversized juice box.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in my family home.” Seeing that I wasn’t reaching for the drink, she detached the straw from the side and stuck it in before offering me the box again.

  “You need to drink this before I can take you out of here. I don’t want you passing out.”

  I took the box from her hand and looked at it. It was some kind of supplemental drink. All vitamins and stuff.

  She moved closer to me and inhaled deeply.

  “He is going to love you. You smell of bottled sunlight.”

  Her expression indicated bottled sunlight wasn’t a good thing though.

  She reached out and flicked the end of my ponytail.

  “Not only do you smell like the sun, but you’re pretty too. You’ll be a temptation Lucas will be unable to resist. Especially in his current state, the adorable fool.”

  Ah, crap. Was I kidnapped to be someone’s sex toy? I gave the thought a moment to settle and waited for the fear. Nope. Nothing. Just curiosity and the hope the guy was at least cute. Why was I so not normal?

  “Go on.” She put her hand on the bottom of the nutria-box and tilted it to my mouth.

  I took a small sip. The smooth fruity flavor hit my greedy stomach with a wow, and I emptied the box in several long pulls.

  “Good girl. Now let’s get out of here before my brother goes too far.”

  She took me by the hand, her grip far stronger than I would have anticipated given her size, and pulled me from the room. In the hall, a large, pale man sat behind a desk sentineled by two glass door refrigerators stocked with those nutria-boxes.

  He tossed me another one as I passed, which I caught by reflex.

  “You’ll need that when you’re done.”

  Focusing on the hall and the passages from it, I continued to allow Julia to lead me by the hand. I paid close attention to every hall and door we passed and every turn we made. Not that it did any good. I quickly became hopelessly lost.

  “How big is this place?” My thought escaped my lips before I could stop it.

  Julia chuckled.

  “It is impressive, isn't it? The wonder wears off after a few decades, though. The renovations to keep it modern make things interesting though.” She pointed to a small, dark screen just outside a door we passed. “Fingerprint security and the ability to close the shutters and check UV levels before opening the door is a lifesaver. You should have seen the modern amenities father put in in the 1700s when we first came here.”

  She snorted, showing her level of crazy. She'd seemed so put together and refined to be responsible for kidnapping people. Finally, someone not normal like me. My smile went unnoticed by her.

  She walked up a set of stairs and stopped in front of the last door down the short hallway. Setting her hand to the screen, she waited. The monitor verified her access then reported no UV present.

  “Perfect. Now, do try not to scream. It annoys me.”

  She pushed the door open and shoved me inside. I stumbled forward, gagging as the smell of burnt hair clogged my nose. The crackling fire, the only source of light in the room, illuminated the crumpled form of a man in a suit. Smoke drifted up from the top of his head, a raw blistered and blackened mass of flesh.

  My mouth dropped open at the sight of him. He definitely wasn’t cute. He looked dead. Instead of being relieved that I wasn’t going to be a sex toy, I felt disappointed he was dead.

  “Lucas, get up,” Julia said. “I brought you a snack.”

  I frowned and looked at her.

  A low growl came from the fallen man, and I swung my gaze back at him as he started to move. Bracing his burned hands on the wood floor, he slowly lifted himself. Surprise flitted through me. Finally, an accurate emotion. Oh wait that wasn’t right. Most people would probably be trying to run in fear. Damn. So close.

  Julia sighed.

  “Is this really necessary, Lucas? I picked her out myself, just for you. Wait until you smell her. It’s like she has sunshine in her veins.”

  Me. She was talking about me. I was the snack.

  Just then Lucas lifted his head, and I saw his eyes. They glowed red. My heart started to race. Not in fear. In excitement.

  “What kind of freaks are you people?” I asked, studying Lucas as he made it to his feet.

  “The kind no human should ever have to suffer.”

  “Enough, Lucas,” Julia said irritably. “She’s a blood bag. Drink up. And, if you choose not to, know that burnt and scarred doesn’t matter. You will attend tonight. Mother and Father will not have it any other way.”

  He snarled at her, his eyes glowing more fiercely. I could only stare in wide-eyed fascination. I might not have the correct emotional responses all the time, but at least my eyes didn’t glow. People had to give him a really hard time for that.

  “Leave, Julia,” he said. “Lock the doors behind you.”

  I turned and saw the doors already closing.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice a rough rasp. When I looked at him, his eyes were no longer a glowing red but a peaceful deep blue.

  “Joseline Parker.”

  “I will not hurt you, Joseline. My sister has the ability to royally piss me off. Do you have siblings?” He moved toward the bed, each step measured.

  “No. I was adopted.”

  “Was? Aren’t you still?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. Is. Was. Does it matter? Parents are parents. And mine are probably freaking out because I haven’t called them. You should probably let me go.”

  “I will. But I need your help first.”

  He lay on the mattress and motioned to the chains mounted to steel plates anchored in the stone walls.

  “With the chains.”

  Chapter Two

  Nothing To Fear

  Lucas

  I could hear the rapid flutter of her pulse from where I lay, but the scent of her fear had no hope of overwhelming the smell of my smoldering hair. It was her wide amber eyes that had me reaching up for the first cuff. Stretching created new splits in my dry and brittle skin. I needed to feed, but feeding in this state would be dangerous. Thus, the chains.

  The clank of the first shackle clicked into place and changed the direction of her frantically searching gaze.

  “I cannot do the second one on my own,” I said.

  She hesitated in her position near the fireplace.

  “What are you? Your eyes glowed red.”

  “Vampire. Please forgive my impatience, but the sooner you help chain me, the better. Julia will be back, and if I’m not properly full by then, she will insist you become a meal.”

  The girl’s brow furrowed. Human expressions were so intricate and beautiful to watch.

  “So you don’t plan to drink my blood?”

  “No. The blood I drink is in that ice chest behind you. Sorry, I mean refrigerator. All willingly donated, I assure you.”

  She glanced back at the small black refrigerator then at me. Taking two sidesteps, she took the poker from the fireplace.

  “Normal people wouldn’t willingly approach a vampire unarmed,” she said.

  I chuckled.

  “Don’t just kosh me over the head with that. If you’re going to use it, go f
or the heart.” Not that it would kill me.

  I closed my eyes as she started across the room and waited. The loose chain rattled, and I opened my eyes to watch her affix the dark, heavy cuff around my free wrist. The metal abraded my flesh, sending shards of pain through me, a distraction from her mouthwatering scent.

  “Thank you,” I said, exhaling slowly. “Would you be so kind as to bring me three of the bags from the refrigerator.”

  Her amber eyes locked with mine. The red-gold lashes matched the color of the freckles on the bridge of her nose. I’d never seen a human look more sun-kissed and pale at the same time.

  She eased away from me, forgetting the poker on the mattress, and fetched the bags as I’d requested. Her expression turned to one of curiosity as she studied the bags on the return to my side.

  “How exactly do you drink these? Are they like those juice bags in the stores?”

  “What an odd idea,” I said with a half-chuckle. “I’m a bit more civilized than that.” I glanced at the glass beside the bed.

  “Oh.”

  I closed my eyes and prepared myself for what would come, the rush of pleasure and the soul-crushing need. I wished I could send her away but knew she was locked in until I could free myself and personally return her to her home.

  All thought vanished the moment she opened the bag. My mouth salivated at the scent of the blood.

  “Are you ready?” she asked. “Do you want me to prop a pillow under you so you don’t spill?”

  “Feed me. Now.” The words were a harsh growl. I wanted to feel regret and shame. Instead, all I felt was hunger and the need to sink my teeth into flesh.

  Joseline

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. His eyes glowed red. I could see fangs poking out from his lips as he waited for his crystal wine glass of blood. Real, freaking blood. I know. I tasted it.

  I should have been in some form of crazed denial, thinking that I was dreaming or something. But, I wasn’t. It didn’t feel unreal. It felt terrifyingly right.

  With care, I tipped the glass toward his lips. His teeth clanked on the crystal a moment before he groaned. It wasn’t pain. It was the sound of a man in the throes of pleasure. I tipped the glass, keeping pace with his swallows. As soon as the glass was drained, I pulled it back from his lips. He licked them then opened his eyes. They still blazed red.

  “More.” The single word was a command and a threat.

  I almost smiled. Instead, I turned away from him and opened the second bag with the scissors waiting on his nightstand. He watched me hungrily as I lifted a second full glass to his lips.

  This time, he didn’t close his eyes as he drank. His gaze remained locked on mine. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he pretending he was drinking from me instead of the glass. The thought didn’t frighten me. I did wonder what it would feel like, though, to have his mouth on me. A spark of awareness lit inside of me, and I studied him closer.

  As I watched, some of the red glow began to fade. The burnt skin around his eyes loosened and fell away, revealing new, pink skin underneath.

  “Did she do this to you? Burn you?” I asked.

  His throat moved with the last swallow from the glass, and I withdrew the glass from his lips.

  “No. I did this to myself.”

  My mind seemed more than ready to accept glowing eyes and blood consumption, but it couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept that someone would so willingly cause the amount of self-harm I saw lying before me. That was one of the many reasons I laughed when the psychologists insisted I had a low self-worth. I didn’t want to die and honestly couldn’t understand why anyone would want to. Life was amazing, full of wonder if a person was looking for it. Like right now, watching him heal.

  I opened the next bag without being told and brought the glass to his lips again. His eyes closed after the first swallow. I could see his pain in each tiny movement. Everything hurt him. Studying his mangled face, I wondered what personal hell he’d been trying to escape by burning himself.

  With the third glass empty, the pinched tightness around his mouth eased.

  “You are safe here,” he said. “Leave the chains on until I wake.”

  His breathing slowed to the steady shallow rhythm of sleep. I stayed where I was, watching him and marveling at the changes occurring. Skin regrowing at a barely discernable rate. That I could discern it at all amazed me.

  Beneath the burns, I could see the proud angle of his nose and the strong line of his jaw. Before he’d hurt himself, I bet he’d been very handsome.

  Rather than continue to stare at him, I turned to inspect the room. Soft lighting illuminated every corner of the very masculine space. Heavy, large pieces of dark leather furniture created a sitting area before the fire. A built-in bookcase lined the wall around the fireplace and the wall with the only door. The wall with the single, steel-shuttered window was covered with paintings of various landscapes.

  I moved closer to the paintings. Some were incredibly large, making me feel like I was looking out the window at a sunny, summer afternoon. Others were small and intricately detailed depictions of flowers or insects.

  I glanced at the man on the bed then the paintings. He’d said he was a vampire. Julia had said the sensors outside the room detect UV before they entered. I looked at the heavy metal shutters over the window and the steel wheel beside it. Bits of charred skin stuck to the metal. Was his apparent fascination with daylight why he was burned?

  As I stood there, I realized how foolish I was being. Instead of pondering his problems, I needed to think of my own like a normal person. What would happen when Lucas woke up? Or worse yet, what would happen when Julia returned and saw he didn’t feed on me?

  With the technology I’d seen, there had to be a phone around here somewhere so I could let my parents know I was all right. I began searching the room in earnest until the only place left to look was him.

  I approached the bed slowly, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Vampire. I knew nothing more than what the movies I’d watched and the books I’d read had given me. The inability to walk in daylight seemed to be correct. But he was living and breathing. I gently touched his healing wrist and felt the coolness of his skin. Not exactly warm, but not completely cold either.

  When he didn’t react, I checked his suit pockets and found his cell phone. It wasn’t locked. I could easily make a call. Instead, I set it on the nightstand. If I called my parents from a strange number, they’d want to know why. What would I say to that? I couldn’t tell the truth, that I was kidnapped. I didn’t know how many vampires were here, but my gut said that police involvement meant more humans showing up, which was probably the worst idea ever. Normal people freaked out over the strange and not easily explained.

  I studied Lucas’s healing features, hints of the handsome man he’d been slowly reappearing with the growth of his eyelashes and brows. He’d said I would be safe. And, I believed him.

  “I really hope I’m not found dead in a ditch tomorrow,” I said softly.

  He continued to sleep.

  Turning away from him and the phone, I went to inspect the books. Unlike the paintings, the books did not have a singular theme. Classics were mixed in with modern fiction and different eras of poetry. The modern fiction made me curious. I found everything from epic fantasy to crime thrillers. His widely varied tastes just added to the puzzle.

  My gaze drifted to the bed. Who was Lucas? Dark dweller but daylight lover. Blood drinker but non-violent. So far, anyway. Angry with life but—my eyes went to the books—covets it too?

  Taking one of the books from the shelves, I went to the chair near the fire, a welcome comfort against the late October chill and my current circumstances. I curled up with the book and my second nutria-box and settled in to wait, hoping my instincts weren’t wrong about Lucas.

  Chapter Three

  The Unexpected

  Lucas

  The whirring of gears signaled nightfall and the opening of
my window. Moonlight streamed into my room.

  Waking from a healing sleep never put me in a good mood. This evening’s mood was worse than most because of the damn invitation.

  The soft sound of rustling paper drew my attention, and I turned my head to look at the woman Julia had brought to me. Joseline. A name as interesting as the woman who sat, curled up, in my favorite chair. Moonlight lit her face. Beyond her, the fire crackled and cast a slight orange glow on her profile. Her hair looked kissed by the sun and the moon. The two celestial objects that torment my existence.

  In her hands, she held a book. One of my books.

  Frowning, I glanced around the room, and I saw my phone on the nightstand beside me. She’d searched my pockets.

  “Find anything interesting?” I asked.

  She didn’t immediately acknowledge me. When she looked up from her page, her expression held a hint of impatience.

  “Yes. It’s a good book.”

  “I meant the phone. Did you call anyone?”

  “No. I had the feeling anyone I called wouldn’t have lived long after arriving here.”

  I struggled not to laugh. Our days of open murder and mayhem were long behind us. Humans respond much more favorably to promises of wealth and power than the threat of death, and my father saw the wisdom in bribery to rid his family of unpleasant meddling rather than murder. Although, it still occasionally occurred when someone thought to hunt us.

  “Very wise of you. The key to these cuffs is in the wardrobe on the top shelf. If you would be so kind as to fetch it and unlock me.”

  “I would prefer not.” She looked down at her book as if to continue reading and leave me on the bed in chains. The little minx didn’t have a trace of fear in her. It entertained me as much as it frustrated me. She’d listened better before when her eyes were wide.