Page 10 of Awakening the Dhampir

Chapter 4

Lorna

Two meals, then Conrad left me another blood offering. Only this time, a silent glare was all I got with it. No threats or promises. I glared back from my spot on the bed.

Two meals after that and—you guessed it—another blood offering. Conrad was still silent.

The offerings came every two meals for five days. I had to assume I was getting fed twice a day; I had no other way to mark my time. Each time Conrad showed up, I missed out on a meal. I guess he thought that little puddle of blood he left me would do the trick.

Asshole.

My filthy jeans hung low on my hips; I’d lost weight in the last several days. I was constantly exhausted and losing strength. Either I learned to ignore my growling stomach, or it’d quit protesting about the lack of food.

Or maybe I just didn’t care. Lies! I wasn’t ready to die, but I didn’t even have the energy to keep up with my exercises. Had they put something in my food? I hadn’t missed that many meals, but I was quickly wasting away. Two meals a day should’ve been enough to at least keep me healthy.

Even worse, my resolve was weakening. Every time I had to wash away Conrad’s blood, my dhampir’s hunger increased, as did my sadness. If I were honest with myself, I’d call it depression, but I was in denial. I couldn’t accept my fate or the future staring at me from the spotlight on the ceiling. They never turned off the damned light.

If Conrad filled my room with vampires now, I wasn’t sure I could remain impassive. I might be able to stop myself from attacking them, but they would see my hunger.

I lay flat on my back on the cot. I must have gotten used to the stench. It certainly hadn’t gone away on its own. I washed myself as best I could in the sink, but without soap or a change of clothes, there was only so much I could do.

I longed for a hot bath and a scrub brush. Maybe even a scouring pad. I briefly wondered if I’d need one of those sand-blasting machines just to get the dirt off. An unwanted snicker erupted from my lips. I had to be losing my mind.

No, not yet. I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“I’m coming in, D’laej,” Jared’s voice echoed in my room.

I didn’t move. Didn’t even look his way when the door opened. The sound of a bag crinkling reached my ears.

“Yippee, another lovely sandwich,” I muttered.

When I didn’t hear the door close, I rolled my head just enough to see my visitor. The look of longing Jared normally gave me was replaced by something else. Maybe guilt or regret.

“How long have I been here, Jared?” I asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck and pulled his gaze from mine. I huffed and went back to staring at the ceiling. I don’t know why I’d expected an answer.

“Just leave,” I said.

“Eighteen days,” he whispered so quietly I barely heard.

I shot up off my cot, but the door closed, and the locks rolled into place before I could get to him.

“Eighteen days?” I repeated just as softly, hating the desperation in my voice. I’d been counting my meals completely wrong. They were only feeding me once a day, not twice. Did that mean I missed an entire day when Conrad left me his blood?

No wonder I was losing weight. The hateful bastards were barely giving me enough to keep me moving. My dhampir hammered against her cage, and I nodded in her direction. Enough was enough. No, I had no intention of drinking Conrad’s blood. But I was done being nice. I wouldn’t cooperate anymore.

Jared had just brought me meal number one in our twisted rotation. The next time he showed up, I’d be ready. A plan started forming in my head. The more detailed it became, the thinner the walls got around my dhampir. We both agreed we were done being a prisoner.

Yes, ‘we’. I’d accepted several days ago that she was a separate person from me. I could feel her in a way I didn’t feel Mallory or Gale because my other two personas were created by me. My dhampir was not.

Conrad’s tactics would only get harsher as time went on. I’d managed to deny him for way longer than I thought I could. I was sort of surprised he hadn’t escalated already. I’d bet everything I owned that fear was keeping him in check. After all, he couldn’t compel me. While I wanted to know why, it didn’t really matter.

He couldn’t force me to drink his blood, but he could knock me out and drink mine. Had he? I didn’t think so, but would I really know? The more I thought about it, the more I suspected he had. He probably stole my blood that first night when they knocked me out and moved me to this cell.

All he needed to gain access to my magic was for me to drink his blood. At least, according to Kenrid, that’s how it worked. A blood exchange would make both of us exponentially stronger. Giddiness fluttered in my stomach.

My dhampir liked that idea. With the power of a vampire’s blood, she could compel all of them, and we could escape. It wasn’t a bad plan. No matter how I looked at my situation, I had to awaken my magic to gain my freedom. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could fight them all without my dhampir.

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