JENNIE
I hid in the drawing room for hours after she left.
I couldn't help it. Whenever I attempted to leave, I would picture her there, behind the door, waiting to jump from the shadows and shout, "Boo! You think you're so brave, Jennie? You're just a silly little fool; you can't hide from the devil."
Gradually, darkness fell and it was only when I saw the moon peeking from beyond the window's long curtains that I found the strength to finally stand. By the time I skulked back to my bedroom, midnight was approaching fast. After a frantic glance at the clock, I realized that I had barely an hour's time to get ready—without a set of ominous instructions to dress myself by.
Using Lisa's ambivalent answer—"it won't matter"—as my excuse, I decided to aim for comfort as I crept toward my closet, or as much 'comfort' as one could find in a wardrobe composed entirely by my mother. Pants, slacks or—God forbid—jeans had all been deemed unacceptable.
I found a tracksuit, surprisingly, hidden within a drawer; a holdout from the brief month when Yoga had been 'fashionable' enough for Mother to let me consider it, before all forms of sweating were deemed unseemly once again. The material was a soft lime-green and clung to my body like a second skin.
Wearing it, I felt like some deranged schoolgirl preparing for a field trip—though this was more like a one-way excursion to hell, no refunds.
Feeling helpless, I ran a brush through my hair and paced my bedroom until exactly eleven forty-five. Only then did I make my way downstairs where I managed to slip through the front doors just as a black car glided up the driveway. The driver ushered me inside and I climbed aboard the dark chariot, ready to be delivered to my doom.
The ride didn't take long. It felt like I'd only had time to blink before I found myself gazing up at the ominous spires of a cathedral, eerily silhouetted against the light of the moon. I wasn't surprised that Lisa had chosen this place as her 'restaurant' of choice. After all, I thought in a weak attempt at humor, everyone likes a good, home-cooked meal …
"Miss," the driver prompted and I realized that he'd been holding the door open for me.
Trembling, I climbed out onto the curb. The grounds were deserted. There was no one there to see me walk cautiously up the front path. No one to hear my screams, I thought with a nervous glance back at the retreating car. Though, while I couldn't see anyone, the hairs standing on the back of my neck warned that someone—or something—was watching my every step ...
My heart twitched in my chest when I finally approached those massive oak doors. They were unlocked, surprisingly, and I lingered on the threshold while my eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.
You could still run, I thought while taking in the rows of empty pews and a desolate altar. You could still—
"You're late."
In a flicker of shadow Lisa appeared from behind a column and escape was no longer a possibility. She wore black again tonight; a collared shirt, paired with dark pants. That blond hair hung uncharacteristically loose—as if she had been impatiently running her hands through it—instead of slicked back into that perfect coif. The longest strands nearly brushed her shoulders, longer even than mine.
"I-I'm not late!" I shifted, keeping my back along the stone wall as the door closed with a thud, trapping me inside. "I was waiting at twelve, just like you said."
He held up her wrist, revealing a small watch, and tapped the glass front with her finger; liar. "One minute past your expected time."
My heart raced as her words from earlier screamed through my mind; if you are late by even a second you will suffer for it. Her eyes glazed over and her nostrils flared as if she could smell my fear, but in an instant her gaze returned to a neutral gray. Then she turned and jerked her head in the direction of a nearby corridor rather than recall her threat aloud.
"Come."
I crept after her, unsurprised when we came before another "out of order" confessional at the hall's end—only this one revealed a hidden elevator when the false panel door was removed.
Without any explanation, Lisa slid inside and pressed the topmost button.
"Get in," she snapped when I didn't move.
I would have rather climbed all those flights of stairs again than be alone with her in such an enclosed space. Still, I held my head high and shuffled closer.
A good foot separated me from her bulk, and yet I still felt the full brunt of her chill. A freezer would have been warmer. As we ascended, my heartbeat counted the seconds—one, two, three—and ironically I imagined that had the elevator been heading down I would have truly descended into hell with the devil looming next to me.
Nearly a whole minute passed before the elevator doors reopened and I could breathe again. I recognized the entryway to her lair as our destination. This time, only a few candles on the walls were lit, leaving the rest of the hall swathed in shadow.
"You've already agreed to this," Lisa reminded me as we headed through a random archway.
Her voice was so low that I could feel the vibration of every single word in my bones. Any other day, I might have had the sense of mind to wonder why she felt the need to reiterate that. As it was, I couldn't focus on much of anything.
"You signed the contract," she reminded in the same, ominous tone. "So …I will expect no tantrums or hysterics."
She turned and I found myself ushered inside a wide room, the contents of which made my mouth fall open. I vaguely remembered speculating once that she might have had a 'torture' chamber hidden somewhere within her lair. As it turned out, the thought wasn't so funny after all.
At first glance, the room seemed bare to a fault; plain, sterile even. The walls were a dull shade of black and the floors were pristine, silver tile. It could have been something as innocent as an unused spare room if it weren't for the drain cover in the middle of the floor and the chains hanging from the ceiling. Actual chains—long and silver—dangled from hooks to pool in neat piles, ready for use.
Looking at them, I couldn't breathe.
The only other objects were a metal foot locker in the corner and a long, stainless steel slab, resembling one that might be found within a morgue—all within easy reach of those chains.
How …convenient. I might have crumbled into a puddle on the floor if Lisa wasn't there beside me.
"What is this?" I heard myself croak instead.
My eyes darted around the room, too terrified to settle over one object for too long: sharp points, metal cuffs, convenient drain and all that silver raining down from the ceiling, waiting to ensnare me if I got too close. It looked like the lair of a serial killer.
"Restraints," she explained in the same tone most might proclaim 'the sky is blue.' "I warned you. You will need to be—"
"Chained," I finished for her. My voice shook. I had to suck in air just to find the strength to ask, "But why?"
I flinched in anticipation of the answer; you taste better that way? Because it's standard vampire dining procedure? Because I said so?
With her back turned to me I couldn't see her face, which made the impact of her next words all the more terrifying.
"So that when you struggle, I don't hurt you."
I had to dig my nails into my wrists just to keep from hyperventilating. 'When' you struggle.
"I can hear your heart racing," she announced on a mirthless laugh. I blinked and she was in front of me, eyes burning. "What? Don't tell me ... Has the brave Jennie Kim finally realized how foolish she really is?"
I staggered back, nearly tripping over my heels. "I n-never claimed to be brave."
Just foolish! A point that that was proven when I just stood there meekly, while she seized the zipper of my jacket and yanked, revealing the simple white top I was wearing underneath. she twisted the hem between her fingers and then pulled the jacket off with one hand, while the other wrenched the shirt up over my head.
"From now on, whenever you are with me, wear only the clothing Jisoo supplies you with," she grunted while tossing both garments into the corner without a second glance.
I wasn't bold enough to mention that she had commanded I dress myself tonight. Instead, I nodded, relieved that she was speaking in terms of the future and not, if you survive tonight …
Besides, I wasn't so attached to my wardrobe to mourn the loss of matronly skirts and dowdy blouses—though, I would have given my soul for either as Lisa began to tug my sweatpants down my legs.
"Wait," I croaked as her icy fingers brushed my bare hip. "I-I thought—"
"This isn't about sex," she spat as if insulted. "But if you don't mind, I'd rather not make a mess."
Mess. The word conjured all sorts of horrific imagery: blood spatter, gore, all circling down that drain in the floor.
God, what in the hell had I gotten myself into?
I could only eye the chains with a lump in my throat as Lisa crouched to undo my heels and wrenched them, one by one, from my feet. Then she stood and steered me around to face her.
"Don't look so terrified," she snapped. But the way her eyes honed in on the frantic pulse surging through my throat resembled a wolf about to feast on a helpless fawn and …for once, my fear irritated her.
"I could always render you unconscious first," she suggested in a dark tone.
Suspicions about just how she might do that aside, I shook my head.
"No! I want to be awake."
To be fair, whether I was or not didn't seem to matter to her either way.
Stupid, foolish, idiot. she didn't have to say the words out loud. My own conscience sufficiently berated me in her place. Do you have a death wish, Jennie?
Standing there in my underwear while a vampire prepared to strap me down, I had to consider that possibility.
"Having second thoughts?" Lisa asked, almost as if she was willing me to say yes. She watched me from beneath a fringe of blond hair that she hadn't even bothered to tuck back into place. The slight flaw was not a good sign. It made her seem feral. Wild ...
A Lisa without her obsessive need for perfection in all things was not a person I wanted to be at the mercy of. Ever.
My mouth opened, though I had no idea what I had meant to say; answer yes to her question? Maybe. Tell her that my clothes were much too expensive to leave lying around on the floor? Ha, a poor excuse for a stall tactic. Scream? It was the obvious choice, but it was already too late.
She caught me by the wrist and hauled me forward without waiting for a reply. I staggered, almost running right into her chest—however, before I could make contact, she shoved me sideways and onto the morgue-like table.
My head hit a pillow placed at one end of the slab while my feet were lifted from the floor and unceremoniously dumped on the opposite end, all within the blink of an eye. A second later, my right wrist was immobile, then my left. Ignoring the chains attached to the ceiling, Lisa had apparently withdrawn two sets of cuffs from her pockets and secured my arms to the headboard. Uselessly, I tugged on both, just to help the fact sink in.
I was pinned down, unable to so much as lift my head.
The only part of me that remained free was my legs. I couldn't resist flexing my toes against the cold, solid surface for leverage while Lisa stood back to observe her handiwork.
"I should immobilize you," she surmised, eyes on my flailing feet.
"W-Why?"
She shrugged, eyes an unreadable shade of steel. "Contrary to popular belief, Jennie …I do not want to hurt you."
The sincerity of that statement knocked me senseless. For once, there was a real emotion hidden within that deep baritone as well—unease.
How funny that she seemed to speak more freely when I was tied up.
"Not only would I completely waste my investment in you," she added in an undertone, "but the mess …"
I grimaced at the thought of my blood splattering the walls.
"So nice to know you care," I croaked, but something in her words struck me once again; the mess. I thought of her 'not-biting' bites from that night in the club, that pain, that mind-numbing ache. The blood …
If those had been mere 'nibbles' according to her, then just what horrors awaited me tonight?
My teeth descended into my bottom lip at the possibilities.
Lisa caught the motion and her eyes narrowed even more. she walked over to the door, casually closing it with a swing of her hand.
Trapped! The thought exploded through my mind, laced with fear as she came to stand before me. For the longest time, she just stood there, an intensity burning in her eyes, watching me carefully.
Was this how a steak dinner felt, at the mercy of a hungry diner trying to decide where to make the first bite?
I flinched when she moved, but it was only to reach for her collar and swiftly undo the buttons of her shirt.
In an instant, I forgot all about the potential 'feeding' or the fact that I was currently strapped down to a bed by my wrists.
God, she was beautiful. Evil and cold and unnervingly pale, yes—but breathtaking nonetheless, and as she slowly shed her shirt I had to admit that I was struck dumb. She was perfection in human form, shaped from ivory skin and chiseled muscles.
That silver chain hung from her throat. Long, it almost reached her navel, where the cross dangled, glinting off her skin.
Does that necklace ever come off? I wondered, and in answer to my unspoken question, Lisa unclasped the chain and lifted it over her head—but just as the cross was ready to clear her shoulder, she hesitated and for the first time I could make out the expression that I guessed had been lurking behind those eyes all along: hunger.
In a violent motion, she swung the chain up, gathering the entire necklace in a fist, and then tucked it into her pocket.
It was as if a spell over her had been lifted. Her eyes seemed lit from within, fiery, calculating, demonic. No longer enslaved to perfect posture, she leaned forward on the balls of her feet, like a wolf ready to lunge for my throat at a moment's notice.
My gloating, infuriatingly emotionless Lisa was gone. The person standing above me was a predator, ravenous and untamed. In her eyes Jennie Kim had ceased to exist and all that remained was prey.
Tendrils of terror coiled in my belly—especially when she opened her mouth, revealing fangs that glinted in the light: sharp, curved and the color of ivory.
An instinctive urge to survive flooded my veins and I struggled against my bonds as she crept closer. Panicked thoughts raced through my mind: Fight! Run! Scream!
Ironically, the room remained so silent that I could hear my own breathing, loud and erratic as she crouched down near the foot of the slab, seized my calf and lifted the left leg for inspection.
I imagined her scanning the skin, searching for a vein.
Was she like a bat with sonar in her ability to sense blood? Could she hear my pulse, even now rushing with every beat of my heart?
Or did technique not matter at all, as she lowered her head, spread those icy lips against the skin, and finally bit …
It was just like the first time she'd bitten me at the club.
I wanted to scream.
I tried to.
But I didn't even have the time to gasp for air before she clamped down—fangs piercing through flesh—and suddenly nothing else mattered.
Heat flooded my veins, smothering everything with a raging fervor. Loud and intense, it hammered against my eardrums.
Time slowed. The world stopped spinning.
I could only lay there, pinned, as Lisa consumed me.
I now realized that she hadn't been bluffing; this was nothing like before. She had merely been nibbling then, I suppose—tasting me like one might sample wine.
This time, she drank; unashamedly, uncontrollably. Not even my pathetic little whimpers were enough to hold her back.
She clutched my ankle so tightly I thought it might snap, keeping the limb immobile while she fed, unconcerned by the alarming amounts of warm liquid dribbling down my leg to pool on the cool steel underneath.
Drip.
Drip.
I could only stare, entranced, as her shoulders moved in sync, rippling with coiled muscle and I swore that I could hear every ravenous swallow, feel every savoring caress of her tongue …
Oh God! she is out of control; She's draining you dry, Jennie, I thought hysterically. Gulp, sip … Soon there'd be nothing left.
A smart woman would have been afraid. But when I finally remembered how to make my body move … It was only to flex my calf, silently urging her to bite deeper, harder, swallow every last bit of me until there was nothing left at all …
Suddenly, my leg hit the slab with a thump. The icy chill withdrew and I glanced down, dazed to find a scene from a horror movie.
Blood was everywhere. A bright, garish scarlet painted my leg. It flowed over the edge of the table, splashing the floor beneath … So much blood.
"Jennie—" I shuddered as Lisa appeared above me. How in the hell had she moved so quickly? "Say something," she demanded.
I obeyed solely out of habit. "Something ..."
My voice sounded foreign to my own ears—high-pitched. Though, maybe shock had something to do with it?
Lisa was covered in red. It coated her chin, her hands. Splotches of scarlet painted that flawless marble skin. There were even streaks of crimson tainting her golden hair. The blood on her lips was so thick that it almost resembled lipstick and I snickered—until I realized that she would have made a much lovelier woman than I did.
Damn. It just wasn't fair that someone could be so beautiful …
"Look at me." her tone was sharp, forcing me to focus.
Her eyes were a dangerous shade of gray, but hidden within them was what could have been concern in anyone else. Worry. Was it real …or just a figment conjured by delirium?
I was too dizzy to care.
"How do you feel?"
Feel? A million different sensations pulsed through my body, collided, exploded.
"Fine," I settled on finally.
Better than fine, my inner voice insisted. Amazing. Incredible. Weightless.
Lisa didn't seem convinced. Her eyes narrowed, trailing down to my throat as if she thought that the truth lingered somewhere within my pulse.
"You're not in pain?"
I shook my head, too distracted by how close she was to wonder why she cared.
Even slathered with gore, this person took my breath away. Shamelessly, I allowed my eyes to greedily drink her in.
Her fangs were bared, threatening to pierce her lower lip. At the sight of them, every single nerve in my body throbbed with longing, though I had no idea why.
Warnings echoed through my mind—Jennie, what the hell are you doing? Stop! But nothing could prevent me from tilting my head back into the pillow and baring my throat.
It was as if my mind and body were two completely separate entities; what mattered to one completely horrified the other.
Scream.
Moan.
Resist.
Accept.
I was torn in half as Lisa watched with a frown, twisting her mouth.
"Jennie." she sounded different: Colder. "Tell me what you feel."
Ha! A tattered giggle broke loose and scattered on the air. I couldn't help it. There was that 'feel' word again. I must have truly been in Hell if my Devil gave a damn about my 'feelings.'
"Now," she snapped when I didn't respond fast enough. "Answer me."
Gasping for air, I blurted the first word that came to mind. "Drunk …I feel drunk."
Gloriously, amazingly drunk. Father's best brandy couldn't achieve such a bubbly, giggle-inducing high. I doubted that even the world's best champagne could either.
Lisa Manoban was a drug unto herself …and I wanted more.
"Can you feel this?"
I pouted, annoyed that she wanted me to concentrate when my head was spinning and I was flying somewhere above Cloud Nine, way too high to come back down …
"Jennie." That deep tenor hardened, warning me not to disobey, and I forced myself to focus.
Her hand was on my inner thigh, heavy and cold. The sight should have been alarming I guessed, but it wasn't. I felt way too dizzy: numb. In this euphoric state it just seemed ...right.
So, I sighed instead.
"Don't feel a thing," I heard myself reply while my head drifted somewhere above my body.
For once, there was no shame—my emotion du jour—just this frightening sense of abandon, driven by a desire I had never felt before and one I couldn't shake: more, more, more. My body craved whatever she could give.
Lisa's eyes narrowed and widened in quick succession. If anything, my answer seemed to have annoyed her further.
Perhaps, she wanted a more dramatic reaction? Should I cower like a damsel before Dracula? Beg to not be cast out into the flames of hell? Or, perhaps, scream like some horror movie blonde bimbo?
The thought was strangely amusing.
I pictured myself down on my knees, groveling at her feet: Oh, please, Lisa, the great and terrible. Oh please don't chain me up! Unless you really want to ...
A golden eyebrow shot up into that fringe of hair. Had I said those words out loud? I didn't have the time to wonder, before her hand rode up, deliberately encroaching toward that intimate part of my body.
"Can you feel this?"
The sensation was the equivalent of someone yanking the needle off a record.
The happy daze shattered.
Suddenly, I was back inside my own body and clarity returned like a kick to the stomach; namely, pain—sharp and fierce—throbbing through my calf. How had I missed that before?
But the most alarming realization was how her icy touch felt against my heated skin. I could feel her fingers inching up my thigh, painting my flesh like a canvas with my blood. They continued to roam, heedless of the way I shook my head.
"Can you feel this?"
I shivered as her touch crept higher, traveling uncomfortably close to the hem of my panties.
"Yes," I gasped.
Too terrified to kick her, I writhed instead, feeling my wrists strain against their bonds.
"I-I can feel it."
"Good." The word held absolutely no emotion. I worried Lisa was gone. The monster was back and she watched my pathetic attempts to resist with no expression at all.
This is bad, Jennie.
As if to prove my worst fears, she tugged, sending the cotton down my legs in one fierce pull. I squealed in shock, yanking on the cuffs so harshly the metal bit into my flesh.
"W-What are you—"
"Hush," she growled, sliding that thumb boldly over my hip, and then down my inner thigh, raising goosebumps as she went.
Lower.
Lower still …
"Do you feel this?" she asked, almost innocently, as I struggled to breathe. "This?"
Nerve endings flared when her thumb teased the apex of my thighs, slick and wet …but from my own blood or my excitement? I had no clue. she lightened the pressure of her thumb—barely touching now—almost as if she was forcing me to move, to seek out what I needed ...to respond.
Don't, I told myself in vain, as that familiar heat began to build in the pit of my stomach. Don't you dare.
I had already begun arching into her anyway, forgetting all about my damn pride.
My mouth flew open, eyes wide as tiny sparks prickled all over my skin. I was no longer in a daze, but painfully aware of every single touch, every slight tilt of my hips as my traitorous body sought more.
Thunder rumbled in the distance—or perhaps from her chest? I wasn't sure of anything as she nudged my legs apart without warning and crouched down between them. Bracing one hand against the headboard, she lowered her head, hovering above my exposed throat.
At the same time, she repositioned her hand, allowing more contact. A brush. A slight nudge—deeper, harder than before. Every motion resonated tenfold all over my body until I was burning alive and it still wasn't enough.
"What about this?"
Too breathless to respond I could only shiver. I could feel her, all right. Everywhere …
"And this?"
A burst of cold air on my throat was my only warning before the sharp points of unseen teeth raked along my skin, teasing …taunting, driving me insane.
A moan tore from my throat when she applied the slightest bit of pressure, drawing forth a delicate bead of blood that she lapped away with an icy tongue, a cold, victorious smile spreading across her lips. Dizzy, I could only wonder why she was doing this, especially after her previous insistence that this was only about her need to feed, 'nothing more.'
As if reading my mind, her voice vibrated against my eardrum, low and guttural. "Your heart is pounding faster …your blood tastes sweeter."
I tasted better.
How logical. With her hand down between my legs, and her mouth dangerously close to the pulse surging through my throat, Lisa had nothing on her mind but the discerning tastes of a blood connoisseur.
Even still, she was almost gentle as she coaxed me up that terrifying peak with every stroke of her hand. She drew it out, slowing down when my breaths turned to rasps and my vision blurred. Then—just as the sensation began to ebb—she would pick up the pace, rubbing harder, faster. It was a cruel mix of pleasure and denial of release and I was helpless. I bit my bottom lip, fighting back the moan I could feel threatening to break loose.
I felt painfully aware of every inch of her—down to the delicate piece of bloody hair that had fallen across her forehead. she was so close …but not close enough.
Her chill encased me from head to toe, and I only wanted more.
More fire mixed with ice. More soaring and falling. More pain mixed with intense pleasure ... Oh God help me, I needed more.
"Don't move," she warned against my ear even as her frigid lips brushed the puncture wounds in my skin.
Over and over and over again. Then she sucked, lapping up the mess and my neck was coated in wetness.
She's drinking too much, a part of me whimpered. Too fast …
As if she was well aware of that fact a dangerously possessive sound resonated deep in her throat. Those fangs only slid deeper and she added another finger beside that taunting thumb, stroking a furious rhythm that forced me even closer to the edge of sanity.
Mindless, I found myself gaping at the ceiling, forgetting all about her order to stay still as my body shuddered beneath her weight.
My head was detached again, floating somewhere against the ceiling. My legs writhed against that cold hard steel slab still slick with blood, feet slipping and sliding in a desperate quest for leverage.
Suddenly nothing else mattered. No matter how wanton or insane or desperate it made me seem—I wanted her to touch me. I needed her to. Take all of me, but even as the thought crossed my mind I heard her whisper something, nearly unintelligible against my skin and confusion shattered the craving. "Forgive me, father, for I have sinned ..."
"W-What was that?" I gasped, barely clinging to reality.
I hadn't been meant to hear it. She stiffened, mouth stilling against the line of my pulse. When she finally answered me, her voice had regained some of that infamous coldness.
"It is customary to give prayer before one dines is it not, Jennie?"
Prayer?
Before I even found the sense to muster a reply she surged, fangs piercing my flesh at the same time she filled me with the broadness of a thumb.
Just like that …the rest of the world fell away, plunging me into hell.
Only this time, I relished every bit of my destruction.