Chapter Two
Holly
My eyes opened and I looked around. I had no idea where I was, but that wasn’t terribly unusual. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve awakened in a strange place.
However, this room was different. Tan walls, no windows. My heart fell into my stomach at the toilet and sink mounted on the wall. This looked a little like a jail cell — but if so then it was a luxury prison because the mattress was comfortable, and I spotted a small refrigerator near the door.
The door had a small, barred window though, which seemed to verify I’d found my way to jail again.
My head throbbed when I sat up, but I ignored it. My satchel was on a small table, and jails never let you keep your stuff. Maybe I’d landed in another rehab facility? I looked down to see what I was wearing. A soft cotton nightgown. Ultrasoft. Expensive.
A flash of red caught my eye, and I moved my foot. Someone had painted my toenails. Also, my feet were clean.
I searched backwards for my most recent memories.
It took a moment, but I remembered needing a hit so bad I’d hurt.
I’d stolen three hundred dollars from my brother’s daughter’s bedroom, and then called a dealer I knew would come get me.
He’d taken me to a party in town. I remembered screwing a few people but couldn’t recall their faces.
I’d been there at least two nights. Or was it three?
Everything blurred in my head and I wasn’t sure.
Why had I left? I couldn’t remember that, either.
My next memories were of walking around downtown, and I must’ve really been out of it.
Traffic was scary, like the world was moving and I had to focus to stay on it.
So how had I ended up here? Had a cop seen me stumbling? No, they’d have taken me to jail. If I was in jail, my bag wouldn’t be here.
I tried standing but my legs didn’t want to hold me up.
I stumbled on the way to the refrigerator, and the sharp pain of my knee striking the hard tile floor helped me focus.
I scooted the rest of the way to the fridge and opened it.
Water, a few kinds of cola, several flavors of sports drinks, and orange juice.
I grabbed a Coke and drank most of it down while sitting on the floor with my head in the fridge.
The door opened and I quickly closed the refrigerator and did my best to keep from looking like the drug addict on the floor. There was no way to keep from being humiliated — trying to stand would’ve only proven I was in bad shape.
One of the men was in a fancy suit with a tie my eyes could get lost in if I wasn’t careful.
The other was in jeans and a plain white t-shirt.
He was hot, and just my type — so skinny you could see the outline of his bones, but this guy had some muscle on his thin frame.
Likely a recovering addict who’d come to talk to me about my problems.
“I’m Abbott,” said the taller man in the suit, “and this is Spencer.” His words were fancy.
Okay, the words weren’t, but his tone was.
How can a tone be fancy? Heck if I knew, but that tie was something else.
The bluest of blues in bits and pieces as they hid behind black and charcoal.
It was like an explosion of math. No, not math.
What was the word? Geometry? Geometric. Yeah.
Spencer squatted down and I almost fell into his blue eyes. God, what was with all the blue?
“You like Master Abbott’s tie?”
“You’re barefoot.” My brain processed his words a few seconds later. “Master? What the heck are you calling him master for?”
“You don’t have any shoes on either.” His eyes were kind, but I wished his smile wasn’t so sad. “I wasn’t sure what color you’d like, so I painted your toes and fingers red. Your nails were in rough shape and I couldn’t just leave them. We can change the color if you don’t like it.”
I looked at my hands and realized my fingernails were red, too. He’d filed and smoothed them. It looked like a professional job.
“Who are you? Where am I?”
“Ah,” said the older man with the crazy tie, still towering over me. “We finally get the right questions. Do you think you can hold food down, Holly?”
I’d lost my wallet and ID months ago, but since I didn’t have a car or a job, I hadn’t needed it. How did he know my name? Had they run my fingerprints? No, this wasn’t jail. Where was I? How did they know who I was?
As if he’d heard my thoughts, he said, “I’ll explain in due time. I believe you can handle some toast and perhaps a few bites of egg. We’ll start slow.”
I shook my head, nauseated at the thought of eggs. “Do you have watermelon?”
“I can send someone to the store. What else would you like?”
“If I get whatever I want, a fruit smoothie with bananas, blueberries, and milk.”
“We have those items. Can you walk to the dining room?”
Spencer offered his hand. “I’ll help you up.”
The boy was stronger than he looked, and he was taller than I’d first assumed, too. I’m five foot seven inches and he was about three inches taller than me.
He looked fifteen but I had a feeling he was older. His eyes looked as if he’d lived several lifetimes, which told me this was likely some kind of rehab, and I’d been right about him being a recovering addict.
* * * *
Spencer
I helped the girl up and aimed her towards the door. I still didn’t know much about my new Master, but I’d known right away he was a good man. He’d proven me right at first, but now I worried perhaps I’d been wrong.
I’d spent time here, and then had been moved with the other wolves to the local coterie house. I’d been terrified when a vampire I didn’t know had told me to pack my things, but I’d obeyed. It wasn’t until we were in the car that he’d told me he was returning me to Master Abbott’s home.
All the shapeshifters I’d seen when I’d been here before had either been guards or part of his flock.
I’ve been a dishwasher and a fuckboy-pleasure-slave.
Nothing else. I don’t have the skills to be a guard.
Despair soaked into my soul, but I’d remained quiet and stared out the window at the dark, dark night on the drive up the mountain.
I’d hoped things might be different under Master Abbott.
I’d enjoyed the time spent learning math, reading, and even all the tests to see how well I could read, what I knew of history, and how much science I remembered.
I’d gotten my hopes up I might be more than a fuckboy under this new Master.
Slaves don’t ask questions, so I remained silent.
However, upon arrival, Master Abbott had shown me the unconscious girl and said, “You’ve had experience helping the humans detox when your former Master brought them in to be trained as slaves?”
“Yes, Master.” My heart had fallen into my feet. I had a skill I hadn’t considered, but I didn’t want to have to train his new slaves. Also, I’d believed the gossip and thought Master Abbott didn’t allow humans to be taken as slaves unless they were a danger to society.
My heart broke at the idea of being forced to help train humans in the proper way to please a vampire. I’d rather be a fuckboy.
“Look at me, Spencer.”
I lifted my gaze and met Master Abbott’s cool, clear eyes.
“I don’t have long before dawn. Have breakfast with my flock and ask them any questions you wish.
I’ll put out the word they’re to answer and be honest. I can’t stand the taste of Holly’s blood just yet, but I’ve been in her mind and she won’t wake until we can greet her together.
Get her cleaned up and into a gown. My housekeeper will get you anything you need, including a guard to help maneuver her if you need help.
We’ll plan to wake her and feed her around four this evening, so be sure you get plenty of sleep before then.
Once you’ve talked to my flock and dealt with Holly, you may continue your lessons if you have time before you sleep.
If you’d like to work out, any of my flock can show you to their workout room.
Again, ask them any questions. They’re all here because they wish to be. ”
A guard had walked me to a bedroom on a lower level, waited outside my room while I stowed my few personal items in the closet, and then led me to the kitchen.
Every human I spoke to claimed to be there of his or her own will.
I knew it was possible Abbott had gone into their heads and made them think they’d decided to live this way, but I didn’t think it was the case.
I discovered most of Master Abbott’s flock offered blood and sex in return for a place to live, but some only offered blood.
Many were in college, and Master Abbott even paid their tuition.
They were required to eat most meals at his home or from a specific menu in one of the many restaurants he owned, though they were allowed to eat out with friends as long as they avoided certain foods and weren’t up on the schedule in the next couple of days.
One of the women had been a drug addict when Abbott had found her.
He’d cleaned her up and kept her prisoner six months, but then had given her an offer to stay.
She’d refused and moved out, but had come back three weeks later to see if the offer was still open.
She’d managed to stay off drugs, but she couldn’t get a job and had no hope for the future.
Now, she was three years into her undergraduate degree and felt confident she’d be accepted into the Master’s program so she could be a therapist.
Everyone I spoke to truly seemed to have their free will.
They openly spoke of Abbott’s quirks, but there were far more positive things said than negative.
Still, if he’d been controlling them, they’d have never even seen some of the more personal, humorous eccentricities they joked about with affection as a group.