JENNIE

The door opened before I could even knock. I supposed she'd heard me clamoring up the stairs anyway, far too dizzy to aim for stealth.

Or, perhaps she'd merely smelled the blood.

I reeked of it. Puddles of crimson formed a morbid trail behind me, staining the ancient stone floors with every step. The sound beat against my eardrums as Lisa pulled the door open wider, blond hair gleaming, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Jennie—"

I staggered forward before she had the chance to utter any intimidating remarks: Have you come basted and tenderized for the slaughter?

Instead, I shoved my arm in her face, spraying drops of scarlet all over the front of her gray shirt. "I need …help."

Pain stabbed down my spine, intense and all-consuming. I barely saw her expression darken, nostrils flaring with the scent of my blood.

"What in the hell—"

"I fell."

I tried taking a shaky step over the threshold, and the next thing I knew, I was lying flat on a solid surface with Lisa hovering above. Her mouth was moving—but only snatches of what she said actually registered.

"Blood … Listen to me, what happened?"

I didn't even have the chance to respond before she was tugging my jacket off by the collar.

It hit the floor with a damp plop as she threw it aside and went to work on my blouse, icy fingers undoing the buttons too quickly for me to follow. All the while, the pain grew into an unbearable ache.

Don't think on it, I told myself as my gaze drifted up to the unfamiliar ceiling. Focus on something else instead.

I guessed that we were in one of those strange bedrooms. The walls were dark, and the surface beneath me felt way too soft to have been the floor. I tried to pull myself upright— get a better look—only to be shoved right back down.

"Don't move."

I shivered as she yanked at the sleeve of my blouse next. A whine broke loose from my lips before I could help it. Lisa frowned, and tore the sleeve at the seams instead.

Once my arm was fully bare, she recoiled, eyes so bright they almost glowed. "Damn."

I glanced down to observe the damage and immediately wished I hadn't. So much red ...

The cuts were deeper than I'd realized. Lisa's alarmed hiss just reinforced the severity. I swore I even saw the grotesque collage of wounds pulsing in rhythm to my heart beat.

"Did you run into a wall of knives?" she demanded.

"Broken glass." My voice sounded so high-pitched and breathy that I barely recognized it. "Will I need stitches?"

She didn't answer.

I felt so light-headed. It was a struggle just to focus on the pale planes of her face. I wanted to sleep instead—sink into darkness and forget the pain and the blood and the fact that her frigid chill felt more comforting than any ounce of warmth ever had.

"Don't," she warned before my eyes could even begin to drift shut. Her jaw was clenched, eyes darker than steel. "Fall unconscious and you'll suffer for it."

Without another word, she slid her arm beneath my shoulders, hauling me upright, and settled on the mattress beside me. The pain made my mind roil, but she was there, edging closer before I could collapse again.

I should have resisted. I shouldn't have felt grateful. She was evil, and I was ...

So tired.

Idiot, a part of me scolded as my head came to rest on her shoulder. A funny realization crossed my mind just then; I didn't think I'd ever been so close to her while fully clothed.

"You are going to tell me what happened," Lisa promised. The stern tone left no room for argument—but rather than demand any answers now, she seemed more intent on fishing something from her pocket.

I watched, intrigued, as she withdrew a familiar black object. My stomach twisted into knots as her thumb glided over the distinct shape of a golden dragon and a strip of metal slid from a narrow opening with a metallic hiss. Once freed, the gleaming blade taunted me.

"Have I not lost enough blood already?" I heard myself croak.

Rather than answer me, Lisa brought the knife closer ...and then surprised me completely by placing the blade against her own throat. her hand jerked. There was a sound like that of metal being dragged through skin. The next second, she took hold of my shoulders and pulled me into her chest. Before I could question, one of her hands latched onto the back of my skull and guided me into the curve of her neck.

"Drink," she grunted.

The feel of her throat was like ice, so cold it burned, and I instinctively withdrew. Or at least, I tried to, considering I felt too weak to even keep my eyes open.

"What are you—"

"Shut up." her fingers curled into my hair, forcing my mouth against the crook of her shoulder. Deliberately, she pressed until my protests were muffled against her skin. "Drink!"

All at once, my exhausted brain finally connected the dots and I knew what she wanted.

Apparently, the situation was dire enough to skip the injected dose altogether. she wanted me to take her blood in the same way she took mine; straight from the vein.

What would mother say, were she here to see me, mouth at the base of a vampire's throat? Though, to be fair, I figured she would have passed out the moment I'd successfully parked the car.

"Drink," Lisa growled when I hesitated. Her grip was iron, leaving no room to escape. I cringed as a cool liquid pooled against my bottom lip. My stomach churned, expecting the taste of death and decay, but when I hesitantly sought out a single drop with my tongue, words couldn't begin to describe it …

My mind tried. Mustering all the words in my meager vocabulary, I struggled to name the sensation flooding my senses: Yummy. Rich. Decadent.

There were no salty or metallic undertones. No sickeningly sweet aftertaste. Where I figured human blood was akin to wine, her was the purest Belgian chocolate. My tongue darted out greedily, seeking more—and with every swallow the pain faded away, bit by bit, into nothing.

It was a thought that I would regret, but I couldn't deny it. Lisa tasted …good. Better than good, exquisite even. I wanted more.

More.

Her grip loosened now that I wasn't fighting. In fact my own hands, as weak as they were, clutched her shoulders and I struggled to get even closer, parting my mouth against her marble skin.

She was decadent sin. I was drowning in her—and I wanted to drown. I wanted to utterly lose myself in all that was Lisa Manoban and never be merely 'Jennie Kim' ever again.

But she didn't bleed like I did. Hers was merely a slow, stingy trickle. I felt like a straggler, dying of dehydration in a desert, forced to drink the sweetest, coolest water from a narrow straw. Instinctively, my teeth caught her flesh, bearing down to make the blood flow faster.

As if from light years away, I could feel her hands tighten. When my tongue raked over the cut, ruthlessly seeking more, she stiffened.

"Jennie …"

Something in her tone made me withdraw, tilting my head back to see her face, even as my tongue slid along my lower lip to capture every bead of scarlet.

"Am I hurting you?" I slurred like a drunken fool.

I didn't know why it mattered if I was, why the thought of causing her pain had me frowning even as a longing for more of her swept through my belly in a greedy wave. God, I wanted to swallow her whole.

"No ..." her jaw clenched and her eyes flashed molten silver. I couldn't name the expression on her face—but whatever it was terrified me worse than her usual scowls. "You need more."

She didn't have to force me this time. I was back at her throat in an instant—unease forgotten—prodding the wound without an ounce of remorse. I wasn't aware of the blood on my skin—or my own body for that matter. The loss of fear made me feel as light as air, weightless. Then, I was drifting, losing myself in the sensation of her.

And nothing had felt more right than giving in.

--

"Give me some sign that you're alive."

The cold voice cut into my dreamless sleep like a knife. I groaned and rolled over in a futile attempt to escape it. However, the reaction seemed to placate my rude awakener.

"About damn time."

My eyes flew open. The owner of the voice needed no introduction. Like a gleaming angel of death, Lisa stood at the foot of what I assumed to be a massive bed. I was lying on the center of it, tucked beneath a crisp, white sheet—but I was naked underneath. And that wasn't all ...

I felt different; renewed, refreshed. It was as if someone had taken me apart, piece by piece, then sewn me back together with all new parts.

"What did you do to me?" I demanded, voice rough with sleep. Though, in all honesty, I wasn't exactly complaining. I had never felt so good—not even after one of her 'cures.' "I feel …"

"Eat."

I blinked to find a breakfast tray unceremoniously dropped onto the mattress beside me. Without waiting for me to haul myself upright, Lisa snatched a piece of toast from it and promptly broke it in half.

"Eat," she commanded, shoving the slice underneath my nose.

I started to reach for it, but her impatient hiss gave me no choice but to take a bite right from her hand. My stomach fluttered, churning as I swallowed. her eyes bore into mine—though, she held my gaze for merely a second before turning her full attention to my shoulder.

"You've healed," she grunted, eyes raking down my skin. "Finally."

I glanced down as well. From the hazy memories of last night, I didn't know what to expect—but the flesh of my shoulder was pale and unblemished. The images in my mind could have just been one dizzying nightmare …

If it weren't for the crimson blotches staining the white sheets.

Slowly, I sat up, clutching the top sheet to my chest. I recognized the same windowless room I'd woken up in the day after she had fed from me. A single light fixture on the wall illuminated the sparse furniture as well as Lisa, standing beside the bed.

"Stand," she ordered with all the tact of a drill sergeant.

With a sigh, I bundled the thin sheet closer to my body and shuffled to the edge of the bed.

"Is this necessary?" I demanded, though, surprisingly, I felt no weakness as I braced both feet on the floor and stood.

My muscles hummed. I felt this desperate urge to move—run, which was strange, considering that my usual daily exercise consisted of climbing up and down the stairs.

Lisa watched me, eyes catching every flicker of motion I made. "How do you feel?"

"Fine." If I didn't know any better, I might have suspected that she cared. Bitterly I added, "Your investment is still intact."

She flinched—so imperceptibly that I nearly missed it—but a second later her expression was blank. Like ice, those eyes held me captive, and every part of me stiffened in anticipation beneath my bed sheet.

"What happened?" her voice was too controlled, too robotic. Something told me that she knew damn well what had taken place. she simply wanted to hear me say it.

"Do not lie to me."

"N-Nothing," I stammered, picturing Orwell. While insane, he was still my uncle—and obviously, something had upset him. Correction, I remembered on a shiver, seeing me with Lisa had upset him.

"Nothing?" the vampire in question echoed. The soft, dangerous tone had my heart galloping loudly in my chest. "Funny. Your bedroom was in shambles."

She made it sound so harmless; the sun was shining.

I wasn't fooled.

"I f-fell," I countered, shocked that she had gone to Kim Manor when I damn well shouldn't have been. "I tripped into my mirror—"

"And rifled through your drawers while you were at it?"

Damn. I had forgotten the mess Orwell had made of my bedroom. A million excuses raced through my mind and I blurted one at random. "I was looking for something."

"What?"

"A … Um ... I—"

"Was this before or after you picked the locks to your own home?"

"You … Why should it matter what happened?" I settled on indignantly.

"Why should it matter?" I had no chance to react before she snagged both of my wrists in one hand and yanked them down to my belly. The motion tore the bed sheet from my grip and it fluttered to the floor, leaving me naked.

Sheer, fragile pride was the only thing that kept me from shying away from her sight. I forced myself to hold her gaze, even as I felt every inch of my skin flush crimson. The seconds passed like hours, and all the while Lisa watched me with an expression that I couldn't name.

"I'll tell you why it should 'matter,' Jennie," she said finally. "You are mine." She took a step closer, invading my personal space without care, while her hand encircled my wrists like a manacle. "My property." Icy breath ghosted my shoulder and I could feel every muscle in my body tense as her gaze swept along the slope of my throat the same way it had Haswell's land. "My investment."

"I don't belong to anyone," I countered.

"Oh?" her fingers tightened their hold over me—and I felt as alarmed as if she'd just branded her name on my skin. "Guess again, Jennie; how soon you forget your own bargain."

My shoulder burned in the same spot where I knew her cuts had been—her mark. You are mine ...

"Anyone who touches you, touches me," she went on in a tone of steel. "Anyone who harms you, harms me. Now, Jennie, do I really have to drag the truth from you?"

"It was nothing," I insisted. "Just …"

With a sigh, I admitted my 'sick' uncle's sudden reappearance.

"He's harmless," I added in a rush as Lisa's eyes narrowed into slits. "He just saw some silly tabloid and over-reacted. He was looking for my sister. I haven't even seen him in years. His name is—"

"Orwell."

I was shocked more by her harsh tone than the fact that she knew my uncle's name at all. "D-do you know him?"

Her eyes narrowed even more, recovering some of their detached coldness, but I could sense that her veneer had slipped—if only for a second, I had caught her off guard.

"Despite your rather non-existent relationship with the media, Jennie, your family is well known. You only have one uncle."

The explanation was plausible—but some part of me wasn't buying it. I couldn't forget the way she had said his name; Orwell, full of recognition. For a rare, brief moment I had glimpsed a real emotion on that face besides anger; hate.

"What did he say to you?" she sounded nonchalant, but the look in her eye was anything but.

"He just …asked for my sister."

"And that's all?"

"Yes," I said, exasperated. "I know that he's not 'well,' but I don't think he's dangerous."

Abruptly, Lisa released me and turned away. "Eat." She gestured at the tray on the bed.

It was only then that I remembered I was naked.

With a gulp, I stooped for the bed sheet and draped it over my body like a cloak, holding it closed tightly over my front. Then I sat on the edge of the mattress and blindly lifted a fork from the tray. It was stacked with eggs and two crisp pieces of bacon.

I couldn't remember whether or not I had seen a kitchen somewhere within the maze of rooms—but the fact that she had bothered to get me something to eat at all left my head spinning.

As if aware of my thoughts, Lisa's shoulders tensed and I hastily stabbed at a piece of fried egg.

"What now?" I asked before popping the morsel onto my tongue.

She glanced over her shoulder and there was a frosty gleam in her gaze that I didn't like.

"Now? Well, I suppose now we discuss the terms of repayment."

I choked, sputtering yellow egg across the bed sheets. "R-Repayment?"

She raised a single eyebrow. "Yes. Repayment. My blood doesn't come cheaply."

I frowned, an argument poised on my lips. Well, it wasn't exactly like I asked to drink it …

Directly from the vein, I might've added. At the memory my heart quickened. Tiny, erratic sparks came to life beneath my skin as I remembered the taste of her…so damn heady that I could feel my mouth water.

"You took triple your usual dose," Lisa added. "You've been out for two days—it's a miracle that you woke up at all."

Days? Horror washed over me for one completely vain reason. In the hospital, my stint of unconsciousness had been monitored by medical professionals honor-bound to preserve my dignity by taking care of any uncontrolled …bodily functions.

Lisa Manoban offered me no such guarantee. But I felt clean, and there were no unsavory smells wafting from the bed sheets.

"Why did you keep me here?" I asked while surveying the room, rather than voice the dangerous question that my decent state presented. "You could have taken me home."

"I could have."

Warily, I kicked my feet against the floor, staring down at my bare toes. "Why do you live here, anyway?"

The question came out of nowhere before common sense could reel it back.

"I mean—"

"Why wouldn't I live here?" she countered in a voice so low it could have been whispered inside my thoughts rather than out loud. "Would you prefer a cave? A castle?"

"No," I said, thinking of Raphael's imposing manor—that dwelling was close enough to the Dracula legends, thank you very much. In comparison, the Cathedral was almost a relief. Despite the ancient walls and stone façade, there was a sense of quiet serenity about the place.

And Lisa, with those haunting, chilling eyes, just didn't …fit.

"Were you a Christian in your past life?"

"In my past life?" she murmured, reaching up to scratch her chin. "What makes you think that I'm not pious now? For all you know …I could all but live inside of a church."

The lack of a smile tempered the joke—but the echo of it was still there, lingering in the air between us.

"Is that a yes then?" I couldn't understand why I was so curious. Something in me jumped at the chance at sneaking even a glimmer of information about her—even if it was potentially damaging to my health.

"Would you dare to mistake me for a Holy man?" Two fangs glinted beneath the roof of her mouth as she spoke. "I'm genuinely curious."

An involuntary gulp contracted my throat. "Well," I croaked, "you do seem to love wearing the color black."

Today was no exception. she wore another ebony shirt, collar crisp, paired with a dark pair of pants—but even clothed in the color of shadow, she still glowed.

"Ah …but do I inspire hope in you, Jennie? Serenity? Piety?" Suddenly, she was much closer than before, leaning down so that her breath caressed my neck, raising goosebumps. "Do I possess a priestly aura that makes you want to confess your secrets, lest you be damned?"

I couldn't ignore the genuine note of curiosity in her tone—as if I, Jennie the bumbling Kim, actually had secrets worth sharing; secrets that someone like Lisa Manoban would actually be curious enough to learn.

I scoffed. "Sorry, Father, but I have not sinned."

In fact, my life had been so boring that no God in existence would bother 'damning' me to anything.

"Fair enough." Lisa pulled back, returning to her full height. Silently, she observed me for almost a full minute—long enough to spark a nervous bead of sweat that dribbled down behind my ear. "But I don't believe that's entirely true. Even you must have done something to put a single strike against your name in the Book of Reckoning. What was it?" she tilted her head. "Have you stolen a cookie? Worn your skirt two inches shorter than school regulations?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. At least not until …"

"What?"

"Until I met you."

God, I could feel my ears prickling with shame. How many twenty-six year old women could truthfully admit that they had done nothing relatively 'naughty,' in the majority of their lives?

No sneaking from windows to meet unacceptable boyfriends.

No kisses stolen under the moonlight.

No sips of alcohol snuck from the liquor cabinet.

My life may well have been one blank page, whose only redeeming quality was the glaring coffee stain that was Lisa Manoban. I flinched at the thought and wrapped my sheet tighter around myself.

"I corrupted you," she announced—as if this were an 'Ah-ha!' moment and she had just now realized how pathetic I was without the threat of her cure hanging over my head.

"In a sense," I choked out. "How pleased you must be. What am I, the millionth soul you've corrupted?"

If I had expected any sense of guilt in response I was sorely mistaken.

"Pleased? I'm disappointed," she said with a shake of her head. "You call this—" she gestured toward my body with a disapproving wave of her hand. "Corruption? Dear God, Jennie …I haven't even begun."

Before I could react—before I could even begin to process her words—she was in front of me, eyes boring deep into my own, piercing parts of me I had never known existed until that very moment.

"I have decided how you may repay your newest debt," she began in a guttural tone that made my breath stop. "But, let's make this interesting …as well as give you the chance to earn your true corruption."

I waited a heartbeat and then cautiously voiced a single word. "What?"

"A bet, Jennie," she said. "I'll make you an offer you cannot refuse."

"And what is that?"

Horror! A part of me that sounded suspiciously like my mother shrieked. Something bad! Improper! Indecent! Run away!

Lisa only smiled, revealing two fully elongated fangs, before turning to the door. "A taste of control, Jennie," she murmured, "a mere taste of control …"