Nectar: DD Prince (8 page)

“You can’t leave.”

“So you
are
gonna kill me,” she said.

He shook his head, “Lay back down; you’re too weak. I’m not gonna kill ya.”

She touched the giant bandage on her throat. She wasn’t naked any longer. She was in a man’s black dress shirt but that was all. She examined her hands. No more blood on them. Where did it go? Blood before, blood in her dreams, where was it now?

“I don’t believe you,” she muttered, examining her hands by turning them over and over, “I don’t think you can stop yourself.”

“I can stop myself,” he said softly.

“If you aren’t going to kill me, why can’t I go? You can’t keep me here indefinitely.”

“Watch me.” He arched a brow at her in challenge and then shook it off, as if changing his mind about arguing, then got up and brought a tray over from the coffee table. He placed it on the night table. She spied a dish of fruit salad and a sandwich covered in plastic wrap as well as a large glass of amber liquid on the tray. Kyla couldn’t imagine swallowing food.

“Eat,” he urged.

“I can’t eat,” she spat, “There’s a big gaping fucking hole in my throat.”

“There’s not. You’re okay.”  His voice and expression were soft.

“Why can’t you just let me go? You got what you wanted. Fucking and blood, more than once.”

“Wasn’t enough,” he said.

“What? I don’t understand. Please Tristan, let me go. I won’t say anything.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then he swallowed hard, folded his arms across his chest and said nothing but motioned with his chin toward the food tray.

She felt so weak; maybe the food would help. She knew one thing; she needed a clear head so that she could figure this thing out. She leaned toward the tray, wincing at the pain in her body. He reached over, lifted it, and put it on the bed beside her, passing her the glass. It was apple juice. She took a slow sip and kept her eyes on him, trying to read his expression. He was sitting still, watching her, his expression broody. The juice tasted so good. She was suddenly ravenous.

There was a clatter outside the door. He jumped up and exited the room.

Kyla took a deep breath and then had a bite of a turkey sandwich.  This was all so surreal. She looked down at it and examined it more closely. It was roasted turkey with stuffing and cranberry on it. It tasted like Thanksgiving to her.  She thought it was odd to be served such a sandwich in June --- especially her favourite sandwich. This wasn’t deli turkey; it was like it came from a thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. She felt something wet on her neck and realized that she had blood seeping out of the bandage. She put the sandwich down and got up and went to the bathroom and washed her hands and then held pressure to the bandage for a few minutes.

As she headed back toward the bed she heard another bang outside the door. It jolted her. Then it was silent. She looked back at the sandwich.

A birthday gift for a vampire. She snickered, as she took another bite while still applying pressure to her neck.

Man, this is good!

But a bomb of a birthday gift, really, right? She didn’t fall under his spell and how bad for them both. Really bad for her. If she had those vacant eyes he was used to, she’d be back home by now, none the wiser. She’d have had some great sex, although she wouldn’t have remembered it, been a human blood bank, and then forgotten all about it.

“Why me?” she mumbled aloud, “Only me.” Everyone else got to be blissfully ignorant of the truth about the things that went bump in the night but not Kyla Spencer. Kyla had to face the bump in the night head on. Story of her life!

Her neck was suddenly sore. Like, really sore. Her pelvic bone felt badly bruised. Her ribs and legs were sore, too. And her girlie parts?  Raw and sore.

She had no idea what time it was now. She knew at least one if not both of her bosses and probably Daisy her roommate would be wondering where she was.

She worked at the sandwich for a few minutes. Her appetite disintegrated after a few bites but she knew she needed strength after all that blood loss. How much blood could she safely lose without dying? She wondered why he had taken blood in a needle. She never felt so weak in her life and her brain felt hazy, too. The wound on her neck seemed to stop bleeding.

She’d need brains and brawn to get out of here. Suddenly she felt rage rise in her,

“Damn it, you asshole!” She yelled at the closed door, “Let me fucking go!”

She threw the plate across the room. It bounced against the door and landed on the carpet. She threw the dish of fruit, too. She was exhausted and weak. She surrendered to more sleep, her hand holding the bandage tight.

She woke up some time later when she heard the door open. A tall and good-looking blond guy dressed in black suit pants and a black turtle neck sweater entered. He looked about her age, maybe, and had a boy-next-door wholesomeness to his face. He assessed her with a serious look as he walked toward her. She looked at him expectantly. She didn’t know whether or not to be afraid. Right now she was too tired and weak to be afraid. He didn’t
seem
menacing. But then again, neither would Tristan to anyone who didn’t know different.

“Kyla,” he said, looking into her eyes and speaking slowly, “Stay there. Tristan won’t be back until later. If you need anything, use this.” He put a two-way radio on the nightstand and pointed to his own hip. There was another like it on his waistband, “I’m Joseph. Joe. If you try anything you’ll be restrained. The door will be locked.”

She blinked at him.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him.  He backed away slowly and gave her a polite nod and then turned on his heel when he reached the door.  She heard it lock. The fruit and cranberry smears had been wiped from the door sometime while she slept, evidently.

She lifted the radio and was about to fling it at the door, too, but stopped herself and put it down on the bed then bolted up out of the bed and started rifling through the drawers in a big chest of drawers near the bed. They were all empty. She looked in the drawers of the night tables. Empty, but for an extra set of sheets, box of condoms, and a bottle of KY Jelly. She tossed the condoms and tube of lube across the room in disgust. Then it dawned on her that he hadn’t bothered to use a condom on her. Her face heated at that. She couldn’t think about that right now.

She darted to the trunk coffee table and opened it. Just a blanket. Closet? Empty. She tried the balcony door. It started to turn. Unlocked. Okay, that was good, had potential. She decided to not open it yet. She glanced down at her bare legs and bare feet. She wasn’t even wearing underwear; only a black dress shirt that thankfully covered her bottom but only came to her thighs. She dashed into the bathroom. There was nothing in here that she could use as a weapon or to get dressed with. She resisted the queasiness and the urge to climb back into the bed. She had to figure this out. This was going to be complicated. 

If she could get the blond guy back in here and overpower him and then lock him in the room maybe she’d find clothes on the other side of the door. But she wondered if Joseph was a vampire, too. She wasn’t a very tall girl but she was no wallflower and could hold her own in a fight. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as that guy but perhaps she could catch him off guard and knock him over the head with something. She eyed the large heavy-looking white porcelain vase of roses on the bathroom vanity.

Where had Tristan gone? Was he gone looking for a more willing female to abduct? Was he in the building? How much time did she have before he got back? She looked out the window and guessed it might be late afternoon or early evening. She didn’t even know where she was but she knew it would be best to get out of here before dark as who knew what was out there?  The thought lingered in her mind for a moment.  Since vampires were real what else was out there? Witches, warlocks, werewolves, and other shape-shifters? She shuddered. Then she started to pace.

Was this a golden opportunity to get out of here that she was about to blow with inaction? She glanced out the windows again. They led to a courtyard, so a big pit, essentially. But there would be a door on the main level inside of the courtyard and then that would lead to the outside.  She wondered about the bathroom window. She found that it was on an outside wall, facing the courtyard but that it was too high and too small. Was the balcony too exposed to take a chance with?

Fuck! What then? Come on, Kyla. Think! Your life depends on this!

She stared at the two-way radio and pondered what to do for ages. She paced, carrying it, then walked with it into the bathroom and eyed the vase of flowers on top of the vanity again. She lifted the flowers out and a thorn pricked her finger and revealed a droplet of blood. She dropped the flowers on the vanity top and dumped the water into the sink. It was a heavy ceramic vase.  It must’ve weighed 10 or 15 pounds. It’d have to do.

She wiped her finger on the shirt she was wearing and pressed the call button on the radio. A voice came out of it.

“Yes?”

She pressed the button again.

“Yes? I’m here,” he repeated.

She pressed it again and waited. A moment later she heard noise out in the bedroom. She waited behind the bathroom door, holding the heavy vase up above her head. Her knees were knocking together and her arms ached from the weight of it.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “It’s Joe. You alright in there?”

He got louder, “Hello?”

Kyla chewed the inside of her cheek.

“I smell blood!” His voice sounded urgent. She glanced up above her head at her finger where she’d caught the thorn. There was only a tiny droplet but there was a bloody smear on the vase.

Shit. He’s a vampire, too.

He knocked on the door. “Are you okay in there? I’m coming in.” She took a step back, in time for him to turn the knob. They made eye contact.  He eyed her bleeding finger. Fangs protruded slowly from him mouth and his eyes widened and darkened. It looked like the colour was draining from his face leaving his skin with a greyish hue.

With all her might she smashed the vase over his head, cracking it in two before it smashed on the ceramic floor into what looked like hundreds of small pieces. He stood, dumbfounded and then started to sink to the floor in slow motion. She didn’t wait for him to land, but hopped over and ran past him. She didn’t look back, just bolted for the door. It was unlocked. She shut it behind her, noticing that a key was still in the lock. She fumbled and turned it quickly and pulled the key and stepped back. She was in a long hallway and down a ways was a set of double doors. In the opposite direction there might be stairs. She ran, hoping to find them, dropping the key on her way.

There was a long Scarlet O’Hara style staircase ahead. This was quite the house! She tore down the stairs as quickly as she could, skipping two steps at one point and almost taking a tumble. The front door was straight ahead past a circular foyer. There was no time to look for shoes or skirts or purses or anything else. She’d have to take her chances wearing a man’s shirt and no underwear. She grabbed the front door handle, twisted a large lock, and opened it.

Straight ahead she saw a long and winding stone driveway flanked by mature trees on both sides.  A big black SUV was racing up outside. The brakes made a squealing sound and the driver’s door flew open.

Oh no.

Tristan climbed out and on his face was a scowl. He’d spotted her. Now he was running toward the house!

Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!

She backed up into the house, almost tripping, deciding to try to find another way out, maybe a back door, or find the kitchen and grab a butcher knife to defend herself. Before she had a chance to think any further, he was there, in front of her. How had he gotten here so fast?  He had her wrists in his grip.

“What do you think you’re doing? And what have you done with Joe?” he looked surprisingly calm. If Kyla had to name the expression, she’d call it calculating.

She let out a small cry as she tried to break free but he wasn’t letting go.

“Come with me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah come now,” he laughed low in his throat, “Let’s keep this civilized. Or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you? Don’t force me to be a barbarian.”

“Monster!” Kyla spat out.

His eyes lit up with amusement, “Damn straight. You’d do well to remember that.” His eyes appeared to darken, slightly, and her blood ran cold. He clenched his teeth together and fear prickled the back of her neck but then he smirked at her.

He climbed the stairs, pulling her with him. She tried to struggle and swatted at his face. He dodged her slap and then leaned forward and did just as he’d threatened --- he hoisted her over one shoulder like a sack of flour and then he slapped her bare ass.

“Behave!” he hissed, “Don’t make the monster angry…”

How humiliating!
“You need to let me go, you motherfucker! I’m not staying here so you can drain me dry. Put me the fuck down!”

“What a potty mouth, Missy,” he slapped her ass again and then dug his fingertips in, “Wait, are you bleeding?” He hoisted her back halfway off his shoulder so she slid down his chest. He caught her by the ass while she was still plastered to his front. He grabbed her hand with his free one and sucked her finger, “Did Joe?” He didn’t finish the sentence. He hoisted her back over his shoulder and then moved faster, almost faster than seemed possible; the space around her sort of blurred by. Then they were outside the bedroom door and Kyla felt dizzy. He jiggled the knob but it was locked.