*** June 11, 2008 ***
Elizabeth Mason sat on her bed settled into the far corner of her bedroom, a slight breeze unsettling the papers spread on her desk, situated against the wall to her right. She didn’t seem to take any notice of the movement, or the gentle sway of her lavender curtains on either side of her window, the curtains reaching to the carpet. The carpet was a shade darker than the curtains. Her attention seemed riveted on the cards that were spread on her bed, a book laying open at her side.
The cards were beautifully decorated with different pictures, symbols, and serpentine writing. Cards labeled things such as The Hanged Man and Temperance spread out before her on the bed. Though these names and their pictures meant little to her. They meant nothing really. She had no idea what any of them meant, though she longed desperately to know. So she continuously glanced back to the book at her side, strands of her long, rich brown hair falling about her fair-skinned face, over her small shoulders, and in front of her soft, hazel eyes.
Sighing in frustration, she took the book in her hand and closed it, tossing it across the room with an angry cry, softened by the girl biting down hard on her lower lip. It was almost midnight. She’d rather not risk waking her parents with her outbursts. She’d been at this for two hours, ever since she had finished her homework at ten o’clock. Still … there was nothing. She was no closer to knowing what the cards meant; no closer to being able to read them. She so longed to do that; to read the fortunes of others through the magic of the Tarot cards introduced to her by the traveling gypsy at the fair last month.
Of course, she’d been forced to hide the cards from her parents ever since she’d bought them and the instruction book in the local book store. Her parents would never allow, or approve of, such things present in their house. They would throw them in the hearth; Elizabeth was sure of that, and she couldn’t let that happen. Not before she had learned to read them, not until she unlocked their secrets, so deeply buried. This seemed to be coming to her rather slowly, if at all. Every time she worked with them, she got nothing, and every time she got nothing, she grew angry.
“Why can’t I do this?” she murmured, closing her eyes, taking deep breaths, hands reaching up to rest on either side of her head. Fingers tangled themselves in her hair, stick straight, as always. The image was one of a madwoman. She wasn’t; she was frustrated. She couldn’t seem to master this simple deck of cards no matter how hard she tried.
Her muscles ached, but she pushed this to the back of her mind, recognizing the pains only with a dull awareness. She wasn’t surprised. After all, muscles tended to ache when one didn’t sleep more than three or four hours a night before waking and going off to school for more than seven hours. Made to sit through seven hours of dull, tortuous classes, that didn’t do her a bit of good; classes that she was failing miserably. Her grades were suffering badly because of her lack of sleep. Even the work she bothered to do was splattered with mistakes, though most of the time she just simply didn’t do it. Her mind always seemed elsewhere.
“Elizabeth, are you still up?”
It was her mother, Anna Blacke. She must have heard the book hit the wall.
‘Oh hell …’ was her only thought before quickly gathering the cards into a pile once more, leaping off her bed to grab the book. She could hear the door of her parents’ bedroom creaking open, her mother’s shuffling footsteps making their way down the hallway. Panic flooded Elizabeth’s mind as she wrapped all of it - the book and the cards - into the silky purple cloth, before shoving them into her closet, on the shelf built into the back, behind all of her clothes.
“Elizabeth, sweetheart, you have school in the morning.”
Her mother was outside the door now, her hand on the doorknob. In a second, she had pushed open the door, standing just outside the room, peering in at her daughter. Elizabeth seemed the picture of innocence, sitting on the edge of the bed with a textbook open in her lap, though her cheeks were a little flushed. When her mother stepped inside, Elizabeth looked up, smiled as well as she could muster, her heart still beating too quickly.
“Oh, sorry, Mom. I guess time got away from me. I was studying for …” she trailed off, glancing quickly down at the book in her lap before continuing, “For a test I have tomorrow in my French class. I’m sorry, I’ll get to bed right away, promise.”
Closing the book and dropping to the floor, she stood and stretched her arms above her head, a yawn coming from her parted lips. She really was tired and a few hours of sleep before school would do her some good. Her smile still in place, she hugged her mother goodnight, kissing her on the cheek. This seemed to satisfy the woman for she smiled, returning her daughter’s embrace, before turning and leaving the room to return to her own.
Watching her go, Elizabeth shook her head, “Goodnight, Momma,” she murmured, biting back another yawn as she closed the door to her room. Turning around, she fell onto her bed, laying on her stomach. She didn’t even bother with changing clothes. She simply closed her eyes, hugging her pillow to her chest, and fell asleep, curled into a ball with her hands in loose fists against the pillow’s dark blue case.
*********
Outside Elizabeth’s window stood a tall tree with sprawling branches, and perched in one of these branches was a tall man with a strong build, muscles ripping underneath a tight-fitting black shirt. His skin was smooth and fair as polished porcelain, and his golden eyes shone in the moonlight streaming in between the leaves. His back was resting against the tree trunk, his arms folded over his chest. Even from where he sat, he could see into the window of the thirteen year old girl’s room, watching the exchange between her and her mother. He continued watching as the older woman left, leaving little Lizzie by herself, watching as she fell onto the bed, and listening as her breathing slowed in sleep.
“Goodnight, my little one,” he murmured, jumping gracefully from his tree branch, his black hair falling with him, settling about his sharply chiseled face, reaching to just below his chin. He’d been watching this one for several months now, his fascination growing with every passing night. He was watching and waiting for the moment when he could make her his. He would not change her so young, but he wouldn’t wait for her to age before taking her away.
He’d been going over it in his head for some time now. Planning how he could get her away, take care of her parents. If he left them alive, they’d search for her, but if he killed them in front of Elizabeth, she’d never trust him. However, if she thought him to be her savior … he smirked at the thought, stepping closer to the house, reaching into the pocket of his jeans.
Pulling out a lighter, flicking it on and off, he walked around the side of the house, moving silently until he reached the window he knew led to the parents’ bedroom. Sticking his hand underneath the window, he pulled, yanking it upwards without a problem, without a sound. Looking in he saw both the mother and father asleep, the man’s arm resting across his wife’s waist. Damien watched them silently, still holding the lighter.
After a moment, he walked to their bedside, pulling a small container of lighter fuel from his other pocket, opening it and pouring it in a circle around their bed, being careful not to step in it as he did so. With this in place, he shot a look at the closed bedroom door, then picked up a sheet of paper from the bedside table, lit it on fire, and dropped the glowing sheet into the lighter fuel. In seconds, there was a ring of fire around the bed, licking at the wooden beside tables, spreading out across the carpet.
Before either of them could wake, Damien had slipped from the room, back into the night’s cool air, a smile on his face, waiting for the fire to spread, but not far enough that his Elizabeth would be put in harms way.
It didn’t take long. Screams erupted from the house, screams of panic and fear and of pain as the flames licked against the skin of mother and father, waking Elizabeth from her light sleep, a groan passing her lips. Hearing her mother screaming, Elizabeth shot up from the bed, tossing her pillow aside, “Momma! What’s wrong?” she cried, throwing open the bedroom door, stepping back when she felt the heat and saw the flames, already pouring out from her parents’ room, smoking thick and overpowering.
She backed up into her room, screaming for her mother and her father, cheeks burning and eyes being stung by the smoke. She fought to breathe past the smoke, falling to her knees, rubbing her hands in her eyes, trying to clear her vision; tears stung her eyes. She coughed violently as she breathed in the smoke from the hallway, fear flooding her every thought, panic surging in her chest.
After a moment, she felt strong arms around his waist, pulling her backwards against a broad chest, fingers resting gently against her sides. She didn’t know who it was, but she couldn’t see anything in front of her face or around her, she could barely breathe. If the arms were taking her out of the smoke, she didn’t care who it was. She fell back against the chest and closed her eyes, whimpering softly, “Momma,” was all she said before her head fell to one side, falling against the shoulder of her “savior.”
Damien looked down at the girl resting against him, taking in her soft, flowery scent, even through the smoke that was clinging to her hair … how sweet she smelled, and she was so soft against him. Shivering, he looked around, reminding himself of what he had to do. He was still surrounded by flames, and he had to get her out without being harmed. She’d never trust him if he brought her out and she was hurt. Pulling her into his arms, one arm underneath her shoulders, the other beneath her knees, he turned and leapt through her open window, into the soft grass outside.
Looking over his shoulders, watching as flames were slowly beginning to consume the little house. No longer were the mother and father screaming in pain … they had fallen silent. It wouldn’t be long before a neighbor called for help, but by the time help arrived, Damien and the girl would be gone. He smirked to himself, looking down at the sleeping girl in his arms, watching her chest rising and falling, her breathing slightly raspy from smoke. Her cheeks were smudged with gray and her shoulders shook, barely noticeable.
He had plenty of time to watch her later, though. Looking up, he took off into the night, running so fast no human would be able to see anything more than a blur as he passed.
*********
Elizabeth groaned softly, her head hurting and her eyes stinging under her eyelids. Her chest hurt, too. Turning on her side and curling into a ball, she squeezed her eyes shut more tightly than before. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that something wasn’t right … but she ignored the alarm bells going off, not wanting to wake yet. She was too comfortable where she was … her bed was so large and soft, a lot more so than she could ever remember it being.
Coughing, Elizabeth opened her eyes, gasping for breath and shooting into a sitting position, eyes going wide. She looked down, taking in the blood red silk sheets wrapped around her body and the black comforter, smooth silk, as well. This wasn’t her bed. She looked around the room, taking in what she could with the dim lighting. Two lamps sat on either side of the bed, the only sources of light. There weren’t even any windows in the room. It was large, and she could tell it expanded past where the light ended.
She was still wearing the same clothes as she’d gone to bed in, and her hair still smelled like smoke. When she smelled this, her eyes flashed. Her mother and father, the person who’d saved her. Had he saved her parents, too? She threw the covers back and jumped out of the bed, landing barefoot on a chilly, hardwood floor, the cold eliciting a soft gasp from the girl.
“Master said you shouldn’t be out of bed, yet.” A girl stepped from the darkness, the light from one of the lamps lighting her too pale face, like she hadn’t seen sunshine in a long time. There were freckles on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, and her eyes were a deep, dark brown, though they held a dullness that sent chills up and down Elizabeth’s spine.
“What do you mean? Who’s ‘master,’ and why shouldn’t I be out of bed yet? I want to know where my parents are,” she demanded, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at the other girl. Elizabeth noted that the other girl was much too small, along with being too pale. She seemed very fragile and frail, as though a strong gust of wind would pick her up and blow her away.
When Elizabeth spoke, the girl shrank back, looking down and folding her hands in front of her, “I only know what Mister Damien told me, and that was to keep you in bed until he returned, and I have to do that or he’ll punish me, now please get back in bed,” the girl pleaded, eyes going wide, hands fluttering to her throat before returning to fold in front of her again.
Studying the girl, Elizabeth sighed, moving to perch on the edge of the bed, shifting uncomfortably. She needed to know where her parents were, if they had made it out of the fire, how the fire had started, how bad it was … so many questions. Too many questions. Needless to say, she was sure her cards had perished in that fire, but those were at the back of her head at the moment. Pushed back, behind her fear and her worry.
“Ah, my beautiful little Lizzie,” a voice purred from the darkness, and a moment later a tall man stepped into the light, eyes shining eerily, bright and oddly golden. He seemed to know her, but Elizabeth was sure she’d never seen the man before. He looked like he was in his early twenties with a very strong posture, and an intelligent face that held a hint of something dark, dangerous.
He moved closer to her until he was standing in front of her, noting how tense she seemed. Reaching down, he cupped her face in his hand, lifting her face so he could see it better, “You are very dirty, and you smell of smoke,” he murmured thoughtfully, wiping a finger across the smudge on her cheek, eyes narrowing slightly.
Elizabeth looked up at him in disbelief before reaching up to push his hand roughly away from her chin, narrowing her eyes into an icy glare, “Who are you, and where are my parents?” she demanded, voice almost a hiss, “Of course I smell like smoke, my house caught on fire, you big jerk! Where am I?” She jumped off the bed, darting around the man, spinning to face him when she’d gone past him.
Damien pressed his fingers to his temples before dropping them and turning to face her, “How inconsiderate of me, of course you would be wondering where your parents were … they’re dead, Lizzie,” he murmured, watching as tears instantly pooled in her eyes, the vulnerability there sending thrills down his spine. That delicious scent coming from beneath the smoke. He forced himself to focus, stepping closer to her even as she backed away from him, “Don’t cry, my dear, it was quick, I’m sure, and I’m here for you. I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”
“Don’t come near me!” she cried, backing from him still, until she felt herself run straight into something. Looking back, her gaze landed on that girl from before, too pale and too thin, “Both of you, leave me alone! I don’t know you, how can you be the one to take care of me? How do I know it’s not YOUR fault my parents are dead?”
When he neared her again, she cried out, bringing her small fists around and hitting him in the chest, darting past him again, running around to the other side of the bed, eyes wide. Damien sighed, touching a hand to his chest, then shook his head, “Stop fighting me, love. I don’t like it. I’m the one who saved you from that fire; you would think you could show a little more gratitude.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Damien moved quickly to the other side of the bed, too fast for her to react.
Grabbing her wrist, his grip tight, he narrowed his eyes at her, “Now, you have a choice, you will let Anna help you with a bath, or I will help you,” he growled, losing his patience with his prize. He had admired her attitude from afar, and he still did, but he would not let her outdo him. She would learn to obey him and respect him. “Which will it be, my sweet?” he purred, voice softening as he leaned down, lips near her ear.
Elizabeth jerked at her wrist, crying out in frustration, “I’ll go with Anna. Now get your filthy hands off me!” she hissed, returning his glare with her own, moving her head so her ear wasn’t so close to his warm breath.
Damien simply shrugged, “I would have liked it if you’d chosen the second option, but I gave you a choice, so therefore I must honor your decision,” he murmured thoughtfully, then leaned in to brush his lips over her ear, “Be good, my child. If you give Anna a hard time, you will regret it later,” he warned, releasing her roughly so that she stumbled towards the girl, Anna, before disappearing once more into the darkness.
Elizabeth caught herself, even as tears streamed down her cheeks, thoughts of her mother and father clouding her mind as Anna led her out of the room, into another, where a hot bath awaited her.
*********
“Elizabeth!” The cry was loud and insistent, demanding her presence.
The seventeen year old moaned, climbing out of her bed, rubbing at her eyes before grabbing the crimson, silk robe that hung beside the bed. Pulling it tightly around her slender frame, the girl raced from the room, knowing better than to keep Damien waiting for even a moment too long.
Her hair was long, reaching to her elbows, falling into her face as she moved gracefully through the hallway, stopping outside of Damien’s open door. He stood in front of his desk, arms crossed, impatience written across his features. When she finally showed up, his gazed scanned the length of her body and he quickly moved to stand in front of her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against him.
“I want to go to a party, Lizzie,” he purred, tongue playing across the skin of her neck, Elizabeth standing stiffly in his arms, “But I won’t be going alone. You’ll be accompanying me. But not like that … that’s much too much of a temptation to my comrades,” he teased, playing with the sash of the robe, “I’ve chosen something much more fitting. It will be waiting for you in your room, now go. Don’t keep me waiting, Elizabeth,” he warned, releasing her and pushing her gently towards her room.
*********
Elizabeth clung tightly to Damien’s arm as they walked away from his sleek, black Mustang, her eyes wide with fear. Her master was leading her into a lion’s den, as far as she was concerned. Though she wore Damien’s brand of a black rose on the inside of her right wrist, marking her as Damien’s property, a Vampire nearly three centuries old, that didn’t make her any less uncomfortable coming along with him to this “get together.” In fact, knowing how many enemies her master had surely made over those three centuries, his mark on her skin made her more uneasy than she’d already been.
“Quiet, my dear girl,” Damien purred, reaching over to pry her fingers from his arm, clothed in the fabric of his black silk shirt, its top two buttons left undone to show his sculpted chest, “You look lovely, and if anyone dares mess with you or take things too far, you know they’ll have me to deal with. I worked too hard to get to you to lose you to some fledgling.”
This still didn’t manage to put her at ease. Elizabeth still wasn’t sure why Damien had insisted she come along, though she was sure he was entirely certain of his own reasoning. And he was, of course. He wanted to show off his little human pet, maybe add to his social standings, show off what he’d obtained four years prior. Elizabeth was dressed in the clothes Damien had chosen for her, like a doll forced into whatever its handler decided on. A tight black tank top that plunged low in the front and ended about an inch from her too tight, too short black leather skirt, and a pair of black boots with stiletto heels. The entire outfit was topped off by a strap of leather fastened around her slender throat, a single silver rose charm dangling at the center, the collar covering the first spot a Vampire would go to bite, while at the same time showing even more clearly who owned her.
She was slender, having grown into a woman over the past four years since Damien had “taken her in,” and not very tall, giving an overall rather delicate appearance. Her skin was fair, the kind of ivory skin that would come with being deprived of sunlight for four years, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders, freshly washed and combed till it shone.
Damien ran a finger over Elizabeth’s jaw, making her shiver slightly, then smirked, “Now, make me proud, my little Lizzie,” he murmured, putting his other hand on the small of her back and pushing her gently forward, towards the abandoned warehouse that had been chosen for this particular Vampiric party.
She almost stumbled, not used to walking in such high heels, but then quickly caught herself, walking ahead of Damien, and into the place. Inside, it was dimly lit. Vampires didn’t need much light to see, but the few lights in the place didn’t do much for Elizabeth. There was groups of Vampires clumped together, talking with one another. Music played from a stereo system in the corner of the room and there were couches and chairs set up around the place, a spot cleared in the center of the large room for a dance floor where several couples moved in time to the music, their every move sensual, graceful, and almost hypnotic.
She wasn’t the only human. That much was somewhat comforting, except for seeing those barring their necks for the vampires in attendance. Damien came up next to her and snaked an arm around her waist, leaning close so his lips were near her ear, “Come on, love, don’t be shy. I would tell you they don’t bite, but you know how my kind can be sometimes when they get too eager. Be friendly tonight, make a good impression for me, and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded for it.” Without another word, he released her and disappeared into the crowds, leaving her on her own near the door.
Elizabeth sighed, pushing her hair out of her face, before venturing into the lion’s den, dodging the Vampires, careful never to get too close to one group or another. She steered clear of the humans luring Vampires into dark corners to drink from them. These humans, all free to come and go as they pleased, all somehow found pleasure from being around the creatures the Elizabeth had learned to fear and loathe over the past four years.
She sighed and shook her head, looking around her. There were so many of them. It was easy enough when it was just her master, but he was only one, lone vampire. So many in one room with their strange beauty, deadly fangs, and their keen senses unnerved her to her core, though she fought it, not wanting to disappoint Damien. She knew better than to disappoint Damien. He was not a harsh master. In fact, he was quite playful and jovial at times, but when he was angry, he frightened Elizabeth more than any monster under her bed she may have feared as a child.
He was real. Those monsters weren't. That made it all the scarier. And the vampires dancing and twirling around her, chatting with one another, were just as real, and just as dangerous.
As she walked, she almost bumped into a tall male, obviously a Vampire. No mortal could possess such brilliant, electric blue eyes against such stark white skin, smooth and perfect like cold granite. His face was framed by silver-gold hair, the strands brushing his chin, and a scar, paler than the rest of him, ran its way from his chin to his eye in a sort of half moon. His shoulders were broad and his posture strong. He looked down at her, arching a brow, taking in the collar and the mark on her wrist, “Damien’s pet, I see,” he murmured, looking over her.
Damien had been boasting about this girl for years now, and the Vampire could now see with his own eyes where Damien felt he could brag. The man hadn’t quite done the girl justice. She was beautiful, as far as mortals went. She was so small, almost half a foot shorter than himself, and her aura was drenched in a cautious fear of the Vampires around her. So delicate … a man such as himself could break her easily, if he wished it.
Elizabeth bowed her head, backing up a step from the tall Vampire, taken aback by his beauty. Even after having lived with Damien for so many years, this Vampire in particular took her breath away. His beauty was much more evident, though … not Damien’s dark, mysterious beauty. The scar only served to heighten his looks, instead of taking away from them. Remembering herself, Elizabeth nodded, “Yes, Damien is my master,” she murmured, reaching up absent-mindedly to brush her fingers over the charm at her neck.
The man nodded, already aware of this fact, “You’re more delectable than he boasted, little one,” he told her, before dropping into a quick bow, revealing that he was a rather old Vampire, “My name is Amadeus, lady, and it is so very nice to finally meet the lady I’ve heard so much about in the past few years, both through your Damien and the community to which he talks to. He is a talker, your master.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed slightly and she nodded, “Thank you, Amadeus, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know about Master Damien,” she said lightly, a smile on her lips.
Shrugging, Amadeus looked towards the dance floor, “I don’t suppose you would permit me a dance, would you?” he asked, offering her his hand, a smirk on his lips.
Elizabeth eyes darted from his face, scanning the room around her, before returning to the Vampire in front of her, eyes going to his hand warily. Nodding once, she lifted her hand, putting it in his and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor, all the while the girl still incredibly aware of how many of the creatures were in the room with her, including the one right in front of her.
Pulling her close to him as a slower song began to play, putting his hands gently on her hips, Amadeus smirked down at her, arching a brow. She seemed very nervous for a girl that had lived with a Vampire for so many years. Shrugging the thought aside, Amadeus supposed that could be the very reason the poor girl did seem so wary of her surroundings.
Amadeus was both tall and powerful, everything in his posture hinting at the creature that he was. His movements were fluid and graceful, the perfect predator, and the thought made Elizabeth’s hands shake as she raised them to rest on his shoulders, muscles rippling under his simple, crimson shirt, buttoned all the way, unlike her showy master’s.
From a distance, Damien watched the two, a frown on his pale lips, then returned to the Vampiress at his side, hand resting in her vivid, red hair, a striking contrast to her pale skin and icy blue eyes. Anger flicked through his eyes. Of all the Vampires in the room, why did Elizabeth have to attract the attention of Amadeus? Damien growled softly, suppressing the urge to get up and rip his pet from away from the other. She would go to the very Vampire that Damien had been feuding with for almost two centuries.
Not noticing how closely they were being chaperoned, Amadeus looked down at Elizabeth through gleaming eyes, “Forgive my boldness … but I daresay you’re probably the most charming human girl in this room,” he said, his voice a low rumble, his eyes darting around to the girls on the couches, and those throwing themselves at the Vampires around the room, a look of disgust behind those beautiful blue eyes.
Unlike Amadeus, Elizabeth felt the eyes of her master as he watched them, and she shifted uncomfortably under his stare, not sure what she had done wrong now. She was being friendly, as he’d told her to be. Or at least she was trying very hard. Elizabeth looked up at the Vampire in front of her, doing her best to ignore the Vampires around her, some of them far too close for her person comfort.
“Thank you, Amadeus,” she murmured, cheeks flushing a pale scarlet against her fair skin, “But I don’t see how that could be very hard. After all, I haven’t fallen at your feet, yet, or begged you to drink my blood, now have I?” she asked him with a slight tilt of her head and an arch of a brow.
Shrugging, Amadeus pulled the girl slightly closer, now aware of being watched. He lifted his head, looking over at Damien with a barely noticeable smirk on the corners of his lips, a look of amusement dancing in his eyes when he realized the jealousy rolling off Damien in waves. He lifted a hand from Elizabeth’s waist to her chin, tilting her head up to search her face, “Damien is a fool,” he purred with a shake of his head, hair shifting like a lion’s mane, reminding her of her comparison of this place to a den, “He cannot stand to see you with another Vampire, yet he brings you into this place and leaves you alone.” As he said this, his hand trailed down her neck, resting on the skin over her pulsing vein, her sweet blood flowing, strong and alive.
Elizabeth laughed nervously at the hand on her chin and then her throat, that hand causing every kind of warning bell to begin sounding loudly in her head. Still, she didn’t move away from him, or even attempt to, knowing he could overpower her in a matter of seconds.
Amadeus shook his head and took his hand away from her throat, dropping it to take one of her smaller hands gently in his own, “Come with me, my dear,” he murmured, voice low enough to not be overheard by those around them. He led her out of the mob of dancers, pulling to a secluded area on the side, picking out a couch and sitting on one end, allowing her to sit on the other.
Turning his body to face her, Amadeus remained silent, watching as Elizabeth locked her fingers together, almost hugging her knees to her, her small shoulders slightly shaking. She wouldn’t meet his eyes and after a moment, Amadeus sighed, “Why did Damien bring you here, Elizabeth?” he asked her, moving closer to her so that he could push a strand of her hair behind her ear, tucking it safely out of her eyes, “Why would a Vampire as proud as your Master bring his most prized possession to a place like this? I’m sure he understands what kind of danger he’s putting you in … overeager fledglings getting their hands on you and draining you dry, idiotic, centuries old Vampires who get a taste and want more … these parties are dangerous; nothing is sacred here.”
He kept his voice low, not wanting to draw attention to them. Elizabeth finally lifted her gaze, searching his face, fear written plainly in her wide eyes. Amadeus pulled his hand away from her, backing away from that fear, not trusting his predatory instincts for a moment.
"I do not have an answer to your musings, Amadeus, because I have never claimed to understand what goes in Master Damien's head. From the moment he brought me into his home, he's confused me. I went from being part of a good, loving family in some boring little neighborhood, getting barely passable grades in school, to being some obsessed vampire's little plaything. So you maybe you can understand and maybe you can't, but either way, it is how it is, right?" She looked down at her hands and shook her head, wishing Damien had just allowed her to stay at home while he dragged one of his other little pets to this little blood fest. She didn't want any part of it, never had. She only did as he asked because he would punish her if she were to ever put up a fight and his punishment was no light matter.
Secret Requiem Community Member 
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