Page 5 of Stolen By the Vampire

Does he like it?

The stupid thought came unbidden. She quashed it in an instant. Whether the vampire that captured her, drank her blood, and thwarted her attempt to end her curse liked her name was, quite literally, the least of her concerns.

“I am Silas Obsidian-Claw,” he replied, as if they were meeting in any other circumstances where an introduction might be warranted.

“Lovely,” she drawled, sarcasm thick on her tongue.

“I’m delighted you think so.”

Gods, the vampire actually managed to sound sincere!

“Now that we know each other’s names and you’ve assaulted me, perhaps you could let me go, vampire?” she snapped, deliberately avoiding his name.

The vampire stilled, a preternatural stillness. Then, as suddenly as he’d been on her, he let her go, stepping back.

“You will not leave these caves.”

Once again, the thrall overpowered her. Like with the first command not to stab him again, it wasn’t so much that it forced her to do something as much as her body wouldn’t act in a way that disobeyed him.

She couldn’t leave? Couldn’t stab him? Fine.

She took a step forward and kicked him squarely in the shin.

The vampire balked, slightly, as if more surprised than hurt. The same couldn’t be said for Esmae, who was left clutching her foot, which hurt terribly even in the boot.

Once more, the vampire was on her. “Are you injured?” he demanded. “Why would you do such a thing?”

She glared up at him, ignoring the first question. “Because you deserve it for keeping me here!”

Something changed on the vampire’s face. “Then attack me in another way, Esmae. I’d be a fool to let you go, and if this is the price for that, so be it. Your ire, I can bear. Your pain, I cannot.”

She refused to ponder the intensity of his words. Rather, she was sorely tempted to take him up on that offer and ignore everything after that, but aside from the copper knife, nothing else could truly hurt a vampire.

“You really just plan to keep me captive and drink my blood?”

“Oh Esmae. I plan to do much more than that.”

More started with showing her the rest of the vampire’s dwellings in the Condemned Cliffs. When she’d tried to refuse, he’d compelled her again. It grated. Worse than being ordered around like some dog—at least a dog could refuse! But, she reasoned, seeing more of her prison could work in her favor. She had nothing to lose, anyway.

Plus, she was curious. Though she’d woken in a makeshift bed—perhaps he’d been worried about moving her too much?—it was obvious the vampire had access to some finer resources. Blazing torches lined the pathway, and with their light, she could see the fine embellishment on the vampire’s clothing. It wasn’t like the styles she was used to seeing in the village, not even on the merchants at the nearby marketplace. A variety of gold jewelry accented his features: rings, an armband, even an ear ornament that didn’t pierce the skin.

Esmae had always dreamed of traveling, seeing other cities and even continents beyond Eurobis. What she lacked in her own ability to travel, she’d tried to compensate by chasing down the rare traveler for details of the world beyond her small little village. It was one of the things that had attracted her to Jared—as the mayor’s son, he’d traveled a relatively large amount compared to their peers, and she loved hearing about it, even if for Jared, most recollections of travel boiled down to how pretty the women were and how short the skirts in fashion were.

She sighed, the memory weighing her down.

“You must be tired,” the vampire—she tried to avoid thinking of him as Silas—said, misunderstanding her thoughts. “I’ll carry you.”

Before she could get her protest out, he had scooped under her legs and lifted her from the ground so she was nestled against his chest. The silk of his shirt caressed her face, his body heat surprising her. She’d always heard vampires were cold-blooded, but her vampire’s chest was warm.

Her vampire. Gods, one pretty face, and she was laying claim to the beast that had captured her.

“I can walk.” It was hard to make a strong protest while he tenderly held her in his arms.

“You can walk slowly,” he agreed, her pride bristling from his condescending tone. “You’re still healing, however. I don’t want you to injure yourself.”

He said it so simply. He saved her because it pleased him. She could strike him, but not if it would hurt her. He didn’t want her to injure herself. For a vicious beast who killed any who entered the Condemned Cliffs he haunted, he was acting more concerned than the average nursemaid.

When she’d broken up with Jared, he’d accused her of having a heart of ice. How could she argue it? They’d been together six months, and she still enjoyed her time by herself more than her time with him, his pretty words always feeling too rehearsed to warrant a reaction. Yet when the vampire said this, mortal enemy to her species, her supposedly frozen heart beat a bit faster.

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