Page 9 of Cloak of the Vampire
The man stared at me for a long moment. Then everything blurred as he swiftly and quickly pushed me against the closed door, his fingers digging into my shoulders. I gasped, wincing at his hard hold, but said nothing.
“Name,” he repeated, growling.
“Aileen,” I let out, breathless. Goose bumps burst to life over my skin as I was hammered by both nerves and awful,awfulexhilaration.
He’s not hitting you, he’s not hitting you, he’s not hitting you ...
“Full name,” he said.
“Aileen ... Henderson,” I replied, my voice trembling even as my heartbeat seemed to slow. I forced my muscles to relax one by one, moderating my breaths.Calm down, Aileen; you’ve got to calm down ...
“Age,” he commanded.
“Twenty-one,” I retorted.
“Country of birth.”
“United States.”
“State?”
“Maine.”
“Ethnicity.”
That was an odd request, but I responded nonetheless, even though everything in me rebelled against it. “Scottish, Egyptian, Ukrainian.”
“Education.”
“Some high school.”
That made him pause. His face, previously brutally expressionless, contorted for a moment in what seemed like anger before regaining composure. “When did you drop out?”
It seemed like he wasn’t expecting to have a high school dropout on his hands, if I went by his asking a question instead of barking orders. “Eleventh grade.”
He moved on, returning to said barks. “Talents.”
“None.”
Another pause. Then—“Hobbies.”
This was a tricky one. I liked painting, but I wouldn’t consider it a hobby. My passion for it was ... complicated. “None,” I said, seeing as I didn’t have any notable talents or interests.
He released me and stepped back. “The name’s Ragnor, but you will address me asmy Lord,” he said curtly. “Sit. We need to talk.”
I wanted to laugh. Call himmy Lord? Who the hell did he think he was?
But one look at his harsh, unyielding face, and any humor I might’ve felt deserted me.
Even though the last thing I wanted was to do as he ordered, I groggily crossed the room and obediently sat down on the bed. He crouched before me until we were eye level. “I’m a vampire,” he said, voice neutral as he delivered the blows. “I gave you the Imprint, meaning you’re now a vampire too. With me so far?”
My throat was instantly dry, and for a split second, I wondered if this could be a sick joke—he didn’tgiveme anything; he only took everything away. The thing was, he was deadly serious.
Seeing as I wasn’t exactly responsive at the moment, he continued. “I will send someone over soon to give you paperwork to sign and explain everything else. Meanwhile, do not attempt to run away.” His eyes suddenly flashed an unnatural bright-neon-blue color. I froze in shock. “I would know if you did, and you do not want to anger me.”
He straightened and strode out of the room, then locked the door again from the outside.
I’d never been into those books, TV shows, or movies everyone seemed to love about the supernatural, including vampires. But if I had to choose a favorite mythological creature to be a fan of, I would probably be team werewolf.
