Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Samantha
The next time I open my eyes, I know where I am. At least in general terms. I know who I am. And I know what I am.
A fucking vampire.
The room doesn’t seem nearly as dark as I thought. The more I blink, the more my vision clears, and I can make out the walls, the bed, and… nothing else. The room is really sparsely furnished. It’s not small; there’s space for vanities and closets, but there’s nothing there.
Kinda reminds me of a cell. If he chained me to the bed—I wiggle my toes and lift my hands. No chains. And that door better not be locked either.
When I swallow, the craving hits me like a truck.
Blood.
The need for it blindsides me. It takes over my senses and wipes away any thought. My stomach cramps and my throat is parched. It hurts and all my limbs feel heavy. Quiet whimpering fills the air, and it takes a moment to register that the sound is coming from me.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
Unyielding need pounds in my chest where my heartbeat should be. Trying to get up from the bed, I realize how weak I am. Sitting up makes me dizzy and when I try to stand, I end up rolling and falling to the floor.
I gasp in air and get overwhelmed by all the nuances my senses pick up. The air is cool, but I don’t feel cold. Despite being naked. Why am I naked? Fucking Rafael.
Thinking his name frizzes out my brain and my nipples harden. Because of the cold. Not him. I’m not lusting after the fucking vampire when I can barely move.
Get a fucking grip, Samantha.
I don’t smell his scent in the air—not beyond a whiff, like something left over from some time ago—but that’s enough to remind me of his blood. I need it. Now. Drink him down.
I gag.
No. I’m not drinking blood. His or anyone else’s either. Gross.
Except that the idea of sinking my fangs into his throat makes my pussy pulse. A sharp hit of lust that I can’t deny. I should be disgusted by the idea of biting him and drinking his blood, but I want it so bad it hurts.
Splendid, Samantha. Not only are you lying on the floor, naked, but you are lusting after the vampire who left you here alone.
Where the hell is he?
The bastard turned me into a vampire when I explicitly told him not to, and now he’s nowhere to be found.
I will my arms to hold my weight and push up. I make it to my knees and lean against the bed. I don’t think I can make it all the way up there.
Rage sparks deep in my gut. I refuse to lie on the fucking floor and wait for him. My throat hurts; it’s so dry. My skin itches.
I want some ice water, a triple cheese pizza, and the longest shower known to mankind. No blood. No fucking. If he tries to touch me, I’ll bite him!
His blood tasted so fucking good.
Okay, that’s enough of that. With a heave, I get to my feet and stumble over to the door. I thought vampires were supposed to be graceful, but clearly, I was misled.
Fucking false advertising.
I try the door handle, but it breaks in my hand.
Huh.
The strength might have not been false advertising. So how am I going to get out of here now? Just punch through the door? I try pushing gently, but nothing moves. My muscles tremble when I add a bit of power and still nothing happens.
Well, at least I gave it a try.
Taking a step back, I turn my hip and kick, putting my whole bodyweight behind it. The door cracks and part of it crashes down. In a dizzying tumble, I fall through as my strength gives out all at once.
At least there’s a carpet beneath me this time. I’m starting to get tired of naked floor time.
It’s still dark but not as dark as it was in the room. The hallway looks long, at least from this angle, and there’s a staircase at the other end.
I smell blood.
Gods, I’m so hungry.
Frantically, I look around for the source of that enticing smell and notice the blood on my leg. I must’ve injured it while kicking through the door, but the skin is already healed. Just the blood remains.
It’s like I’m watching myself from the outside as my hand reaches over and gathers a smear of blood on the finger.
No. Stop! A part of me is screaming, but I can’t override the instinct that demands blood. I lift my trembling hand up to my lips and lick my fingers.
So that’s what I taste like. Kind of like wildflower honey mixed with rich red wine.
My stomach roils and then I’m throwing up. I heave and heave until there’s nothing left. Not that there was much in the first place, but it seems that my body is determined to expel even the tiniest hints of the blood I ingested.
Note to self: don’t drink blood.
My vampiric life is off to a fantastic start.
Once I’m settled, I wipe my hand on the carpet to make sure I don’t lick the blood again. Now I desperately need that shower. And a toothbrush. I need a plan to get out of this mess.
First step: Find Rafael and tear his head off.
That decided, I begin to crawl toward the staircase. Clothes would be nice, or even a sheet, but I’m not sure I can convince myself to move again if I go back to that room and anywhere close to that bed.
The farther I get, the more my body seems to wake up and remember what it’s supposed to be doing. Halfway down the hallway, I manage to get to my feet, hunger driving my every step.
Can I drink animal blood?
I never asked about that. At least I know I don’t have to kill humans. I just need to have enough control to stop. My fangs ache at the thought of human blood and I get the sneaking suspicion that control might be hard to come by in my current state.
Drinking from another vampire is also a huge question mark. Rafael forced his blood on me, but I’ve not heard of it being a thing before. At the memory of his blood, my body involuntarily jerks and I start moving. While shuffling up the steps, a sickening ache begins behind my eye.
Oh, really? I get turned into an undead, and I’m still not free of these fucking headaches.
I’ll demand a refund the first chance I get.
Blinding pain strikes so fast that I don’t have time to brace and I fall, my knees hitting the edge of the stairs in the process. I don’t feel that pain, but maybe it’ll come later once my head’s done exploding.
Closing my eyes doesn’t help. Nothing helps.
Small whimpers escape me and I sway in place, trying to self-soothe.
It never works, but staying still is somehow worse.
Something crashes and I stare at the hole in the floorboards.
The pain radiating from my hand overrides the blinding headache for a moment, just enough to make the fire in my throat the prevalent agony.
Blood. I need blood right now!
I force myself to crawl up the stairs.
Once I find Rafael, I’m going to drain him dry. That thought keeps me going. My vision is hazy, my fangs ache, and every muscle in my body trembles. But I keep moving.
At the top of the staircase is another closed door and the handle crumbles in my hand when I try to use it as leverage to get up. I want out of here. The pain begins to wane, just a little, but it leaves my vision clearer.
The door is made of some dark, polished wood. There are carvings on it and the doorframe that look something like the ward runes for evil spirits Thea showed me.
I am the evil spirit. There’s no containing me now. A hysterical giggle bursts out of me as I throw myself against the door. It caves just as easily as the one in the bedroom and I find myself lying on more polished wood.
Taking a moment, I look around. Or I tell myself that I’m taking a moment. It’s not that I’m too weak to move. And maybe I’m waiting to see if Rafael comes running at the sound of a crashing door.
It’s silent.
The light is muted and there’s frost on the windows. Or is that snow falling? My vision seems to be zooming in and out, focusing on details without my control. All of it makes me nauseous, so I look away from the windows and take in the rest of the room.
A lobby. Foyer. I don’t know what to call it, but it’s spacious. Large windows on both sides of the front door. The entrance I crashed through is on the right side of it and opposite is another hallway. At the back end of the room, a beautiful curving staircase leads upstairs.
The staircase is made of wood and has carvings of flowers and vines all over it. It looks like a dwarf built it, sturdy and wide, and then someone let out an elf to decorate it all. Not that there are dwarves or elves. Thea laughed herself sick when I asked.
All right, enough lying on the floor. I get up and shuffle toward the door on the right side of the lobby-foyer. The door is plain and doesn’t pull attention to it, so I hope it’ll lead to the servants’ quarters or kitchen. Somewhere I can get my hands on blood.
By pure stubbornness, I keep moving until I find myself in a kitchen. It’s pretty small, or normal size, but feels small for this house. From the looks of it, it’s well used by someone who actually eats food, unlike Rafael.
Where did he leave me? Why is there no one here? Hurt flashes through my chest, different from the gnawing pain that has been my constant companion. It makes me feel vulnerable, and I grab the apron hanging on a hook by the door.
I need clothes, but I need blood more. The idea of biting into one of the apples on the table twists my stomach so badly that I can’t deny the truth any longer.
The fridge door tears from its hinges when I pull it open.
A faint smell of blood hits my nose and I dive in, looking for it, not caring about the mess I make.
I grab the blood bag, similar to the ones they use in hospitals, and slump to the floor among the spilled tomato juice as I tear into it.
I try to ignore the too-thick feeling of the cold blood.
Should I warm it up? Would that make it taste more palatable?
Of course it would. Rafael’s blood tasted divine, warm, electrifying…
For a moment, all my senses light up. Human blood. I drink it like a person dying of thirst. The pain vanishes from my head, my body relaxes, and my stomach eases its cramps.
I feel alive—and then my mouth feels like it’s filled with ashes. The nausea hits like a freight train. All I manage to do is turn my head away from the fridge before I vomit all over the floor.
It’s like the moment in the basement all over again, except worse. After I expel every drop I drank, I keep dry heaving. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I dimly register that I don’t suffer from the loss of air, but the splintering pain in my head quickly drowns out that relief from my mind.
It radiates all over my body, finds every secret place in my mind, and takes it over. I try hiding from it, but there is no place to escape, no relief of unconsciousness, no blackness to welcome me into its arms.
I try to focus on my breathing, on blocking the pain, forcing my muscles to relax, but it all just brings more searing agony until the only thing I can grasp in the midst of that torture is Rafael’s name.