Page 1 of Incandescence

Chapter One

Alexander

Adeep, base hungerstirred inside me. My master had brought another woman into his nest. I tamped down the ceaseless ache to feed as I stared at her with a spark of interest, this one wholly unrelated to the blood craving the vampire had cultivated in me.

This woman didn’t scream or cry out. She didn’t even struggle. But her big green eyes flashed abstract terror as the vampire laid her on the floor, where a weak bubble of wintery dawn sunlight filtered through the dark-tinted window.

Even had she screamed, no one would hear her. We were isolated on the top floor of the Sydney high-rise apartment my master had made his own, living in a world that was as distant from the human ants I occasionally glimpsed far below as Mars was from Jupiter.

My master’s soft chuckle set my teeth on edge and caused my veins to itch and crawl, and my stomach to gurgle with hunger. His voice was congenial and smooth, his features pale but unremarkably pleasant, a perfect foil to the monster beneath. “Your new plaything, Alexander.”

Alexander wasn’t my real name, but my master always renamed his donors. What seemed like a lifetime ago, I’d been Jake Reynolds, a normal human with normal human aspirations. Not that I recalled much of anything about my past life these days.

“Over time,” my master continued, his voice unusually smug, “I believe Maya’s blood will be as sweet as your own.”

If I lived that long.

“I believe, too, that I’ve finally found the female counterpart to you. Maya’s mental strength should also extend her life expectancy.”

I put a careful hand on my forehead, covering what felt like a vein throbbing to life. Yet another innocent woman sentenced to a hell of the vampire’s making. But I couldn’t show any emotion, couldn’t let him know I cared. Nor did I answer. I never answered unless I was asked. And mostly I was too weak or consumed by my craving.

Even had my master allowed me to sip from his vein right now, I’d still want more. He’d trained my addiction to an exacting standard. And he’d do the same with this latest recruit.

I forced aside the mental image of my master’s blood dribbling down my throat to focus my attention on Maya. I wondered what her real name was—her identity was just the start of what my master would take from her—even as I ran an appreciative stare over her long dark hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. Bright pink runners encased her feet and sweatpants partially hid her long, legs. A bright pink Lycra top covered the swell of her breasts and exposed the taut, quivering plane of her tan belly.

Gym clothes?

My master really had raised his standards. He wasn’t just looking for mental strength and those super-rare humans whose distinct hormones and blood type would sustain him. He ensured the donors were physically stronger, more resilient.

Less likely to die.

“I ordered the usual breakfast to be sent up. I expect it all to be eaten.”

His mild voice held the threat of reprisal if the food was left untouched. He knew I couldn’t care less about eating and could easily have foregone a normal human diet and lived from those few drops of blood he allocated me. Except my health was to be at its most optimal when he fed from me, both for the nutrition he ingested and to ensure I survived the feeding.

Once a week, or thereabouts, he drank from me, and at times I think he almost drained me dry. But my reward was worth the near-death that I sometimes craved as much as the tiny sip of vampire blood that sustained me and kept me permanently youthful.

But though he drank from me, I was never to take too much in return. My master had informed me more than once that even one extra drop of his blood would kill me, in the same way too much crack would kill an addict.

I was worse than an addict. I was a blood-slave whose single goal in life was to taste a couple of bright crimson drops from my master.

“Eat the food. Then I’ll ease your craving.”

My master’s fangs glinted behind his thin lips, sharper than a razor, his soulless brown eyes glowing red for just a second before he blinked and masked his bloodlust. He’d subdue his own craving before I’d get to alleviate my utter dependence, just for a little while.

With a smile that contained no humor, my master turned and strode to the door that opened into his private chambers. He’d sleep now, through the day’s heat, allow his slumber to rejuvenate his centuries-old body before he fed from me tonight and became fully invigorated.

The door clicked shut behind him. The woman, Maya, pushed herself into a seated position. I’d bet shock and blood loss was to blame for her eyes that were glassy and empty of life.

My master had already sampled her.

She pulled her knees to her chest. “It’s not real,” she said in a broken whisper. “None of this is real.”

I didn’t move, though every instinct told me to go and comfort her. I’d seen enough women enter the nest to know not to get attached. Despite my master’s assurance, I doubted she’d last long. None endured it here. Most didn’t even make it past my master’s second or third feeding.

Possibly because they preferred to die rather than face the reality their world had become.

The elevator dinged and a mountain of a security guard stepped into our nest to stand watch by the elevator doors, while the chef from the ground floor restaurant pushed his catering trolley inside.

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