Page 7 of Kept 3
I think over what he has said. At least for the ‘time being,’ my blood might be spared if I agree to this arrangement. Perhaps I can buy myself some time and escape.
“You would bring in a chef to train me?” I raise my eyes to his.
“We have already established, Josephine,” he says dryly, “I will do anything you desire.”
“No,” I frown, my tone belligerent, “we have established that will be the case if I agree to be kept. Which, I have not and will never agree to. What I desire now is to be set free.”
He shrugs.
“Let us consider this a peace offering. Live with me, get to know me, and I will bring in a chef on Monday. If he is unsuitable, I will replace him.”
“Replace orreplace,” I sneer, my inference obvious.
“I may kill him,” he shrugs, “but that is my prerogative, Josephine, after all,” he raises his hands in supplication, “a man must eat.”
His words inflame me, and I shake my head at my own stupidity, almost falling for his guile. He knows I love cooking and has simply used that to try and coerce me into accepting my captivity, and I almost fell for it. How stupid does he think I am?‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.’
“You are not a man,” I growl, “you are a monster – a murderer of people with far less strength and speed than you – which makes you a coward and a psychopath.”
“That makes two of us,” he replies, scowling, “every time you order beef at a restaurant, you are complicit in the murder of a cow – a creature with far less strength and speed than you. How do you reconcile that, Josephine?”
I scowl back. Hadn’t I had this very conversation with myself on several occasions since I’d discovered his journals. I was starting to believe vegetarianism might be the only way forward if this conversation was followed to its logical conclusion.
“You may be right,” I shrug, trying to calm down and taking a sip of my water, “but cows can’t talk.”
“They simply can’t talk our language,” he smirks, “they do talk to one another.”
I breathe out deeply. Of course, there is one big difference between what I want to do with my food, and what he wants to do with his, or more specifically, me.
“I don’t want to fuck a cow.”
He growls.
“And,” I press, “I don’t understand why vampires only sleep with their Kept. If it is sex you want, just screw me, get it over with and let me be on my way.”
“You think you understand, because of the small amount you have read in my journals,” he says, his voice deadly, even, “but you comprehend nothing.”
“Then enlighten me,” I shout, throwing down my fork, all pretence at civility gone, “tell me what it is I’m apparently ignorant of. What is it I don’t know that will suddenly make me want to sacrifice my life to you?”
I can see I have angered him, but he keeps his voice even.
“When a vampire offers to share his life with a human, he is giving up his secrets. The Kept is giving up their independence, to a degree, but gaining oh, so much more,” he says, his voice becoming seductive. “We trade blood, Josephine. The vampire ties themselves, binds themselves to their chosen Kept. We feel all your emotions, we know where you are at any given time, we protect you with our lives and you, you sustain ours with your blood. Can you imagine, beautiful girl, how wonderful it is to make love with a man who knowsexactlyhow you are feeling at all times.”
“You are trying to make it sound romantic,” I shake my head in disgust, “but you don’t make love. The bottom line is you suck and fuck a woman until she begins to care for you, and then you kill her.”
“But until then,” he ignores my crude language, “that woman receives the vampire’s utmost attention. We want our Kept happy, healthy, content. Vampires as old and rich as I can ensure their companions want for nothing. Our blood gives the gift of health; no sickness, no accident, nothing can kill you or harm you when you become Kept.”
“Except you, the Keeper.”
“The Master, yes,” he shrugs.
“You want me to call you, Master?” I choke in disgust.
“No, of course not,” he shakes his head, becoming angry now, “but that is the reality of the relationship, Josephine, I am simply being honest with you.”
“Why do you even bother?” I shake my head from side to side and roll my eyes, “you are a handsome man, your eyes hypnotise or something; any woman would be happy to let you into her bed, hell, they might not even mind if you suck their blood. Why bother binding someone to you?”
He sighs.
