JENNIE
The initial sting was no worse than the jab of a needle, just a slight little pinch.
It was almost as if he was taking care to pierce only the first few layers of skin—steal a taste of my blood—and nothing more. A second later, he withdrew his fangs and released my wrist, allowing me to jerk my hand back.
"There," Raphael said, settling back into his seat. It was as if he'd shaken my hand rather than bitten me. "Let's see what course of action she takes now …"
Who? I wanted to ask, but my lips felt numb. A strange icy chill had drifted up my entire body, sinking into my muscles. Shock?
Dazed, I could only gaze down at the two marks piercing the back of my hand.
Bite marks, I told myself sternly like a student trying to reinforce the use of a new vocabulary. Tiny beads of ruby blood had bubbled forth, oozing down my wrist.
For the first time in my life I was oddly aware of every breath I took—every pull of air entering and leaving my chest. It was almost as if my body was waiting for me to realize something that my brain hadn't fully registered.
Then I felt it.
It was just a sharp jolt of pain at first, stabbing through my wrist, my arm, my shoulder. With every second the pinch became a throbbing, then an aching. Burning. Within only a minute, my entire arm was engulfed in invisible flames, consuming every cell, every pore.
I tried to speak, but the words stuck to the back of my throat.
Across from me Raphael merely stared—but his face was different. As I watched, those dark, Roman features morphed into the face of a snarling demon, laughing as I tried to stand. Almost in slow motion, my chair tipped backwards, pitching me into oblivion. The ceiling loomed above, miles away, and I was floating ...
Falling.
The table disintegrated into ash. Pieces of silverware turned into blindingly bright stars that whizzed past my head as the world spun.
My mouth was open. I knew that I was screaming, but the only words I heard weren't spoken by me.
Let's see if he comes …
Comes.
Comes.
Comes.
The voices ricocheted while the interior of the dining room morphed into a torrent of blood that pooled at my feet. In seconds it was a churning river, sweeping me away. A pair of haunting, amber eyes chased me as the agony threatened to swallow me up.
"I've called her." The husky feminine purr seemed to come from a million directions all at once, splintering like broken glass. "She hasn't shown her face here in years, but something tells me she'll come now."
It was as if I was hearing everything from under water, drowning beneath pain so heavy it crushed. My body was gone, consumed by the agony.
You're dying, Jennie, a part of me cried—but if it meant escaping the pain, I would have gladly given up.
I wanted to die.
"Jennie—"
All at once, the fire turned to ice. The world stopped spinning, and clarity started to return in stingy snatches.
I was lying on the floor, curled on my side with my right hand clutched to my chest. Someone stood nearby, casting a shadow that fell over me like a blanket.
"I can't believe you actually came." I vaguely recognized Somi's voice. She sounded light-years away and yet close enough to have been whispering in my ear at the same time. "After decades of pretending to be above it all, the great and terrible Pranpriya comes dashing to the rescue—"
"Jennie," a man said, cutting over her. Something cool brushed my cheek. A finger? "Can you hear me?"
I couldn't speak. My throat felt raw. Every breath ached. I wanted to sleep. Just sink into oblivion and be washed away …
"Look at me." I knew that tone, that voice.
It was a long moment before I realized that my eyes were already open. My vision was a blurry mess, but somehow I managed to focus on a pale blob that hovered above.
Lisa.
"You know this is just what he wants," Somi continued, though I couldn't see her. Nothing registered but Lisa's face as it slowly came into focus: a pale jaw, that crown of golden hair, and two gray eyes that were so wide they could have sucked me in whole.
"You just gave him the very thing he needs to get you right back under his thumb; a weakness. You were so close to your precious freedom—everyone knew you only had a few years left. And yet you just threw it all away—"
"Say something," Lisa growled, low enough only for me to hear.
I felt too weak to even suck air into my chest, but the command in her tone was inescapable.
"Hurts …"
Though, the pain had actually started to recede—I could think again at least. However, when I tried to take a breath something heavy weighed on my chest. A piece of silverware from the table?
I looked down, shocked to find a slender strip of metal disappearing beneath the collar of my blouse. A necklace?
"At least everything makes sense now," Somi went on smugly. "Without that amulet around your neck to hide behind, I finally understand. Who would have guessed that after all this time …some pathetic mortal would be the one to finally bring the great Pranpriya to knees?"
The hand against my cheek stiffened. I could sense Somi prowling nearby; a ruthless lioness ready to pounce.
"Tell me, how does it feel?" she wondered. "She suffers because of your sins. Raphael will use her to ensure that you can never escape …and there is nothing you can do to stop it."
Lisa didn't respond to her. Instead, her eyes bore into mine as everything but her slowly began to fade to black.
"If you die, Jennie," she growled as her face drifted in and out of focus, "I will personally follow you to the gates of hell …and my resurrection services do not come cheaply."
--
When the world finally stopped spinning, I knew where I was—or mainly, who sat beside me, emanating a chill so potent that I could taste ice on my tongue.
"Say something," Lisa demanded as I started to shift.
She held my hand.
Somehow, I knew that even before I peeled my eyes open to find her fingers laced within my own.
I was lying on a bed, draped in ivory sheets and she sat on the end of the mattress with her back to me. The dark walls of the bedroom were familiar, but it was a solid minute before I realized that we were in her lair.
"He bit me," I croaked, still marveling at the fact that my fingers were actually entwined with hers. I tried to sit upright only to wince as a sharp pain shot down the length of my arm. Still, the words kept tumbling out. "Oh God. Raphael. He bit me—"
Lisa's grip tightened.
"It's all right."
The fact that I could still feel pain was the only thing that convinced me I wasn't dreaming. Even a hint of comfort from her shocked me to the point that I laid back down, observing the way my pink hand contrasted with her icy one. It throbbed, but the pain was barely noticeable once a few minutes had passed, allowing me to focus on the rest of my body.
I was still fully dressed, wearing the clothes that she had left for me—but my skirt was crooked. Three buttons on my blouse had come undone and tiny streaks of red smeared the front of it. Not to mention that something heavy had been draped around my neck, weighing on my chest like an iron manacle. Confused, I glanced down to find a long, coiled chain pooled on the mattress beside me. Had she resorted to something a little stronger than ribbons this time?
Whatever it was sparkled against the white sheets and formed one long, complete loop. Dangling from the end of it was a simple cross. Tentatively I reached out, brushing the line of it with the pad of my finger.
Only then did it sink in; this was hers. I glanced up, shocked to find that the infamous silver chain she usually wore was gone. When I tried to grasp the charm hanging from my throat and observe it more closely, her free hand was there, dragging it further out of reach.
"Jennie," she began without looking at me. "What did he say to you?"
Raphael's words still circled my mind. Help prove my suspicion about what she might value more ...
I tried to relay them but, in the end, all that came out instead was a tired croak. "What did you pay for me?"
She let go of my hand.
It was strange how I felt even colder without her there as she pulled away and stood. For a moment, she paced—but when she finally turned back to face me, her expression could have been chiseled from stone.
"Why don't you ask your good friend Somi?"
I flinched. Her tone was icy. Venom laced every word and I wondered just what the hell had happened in Sanguis.
Raphael had bitten me, I remembered that much. But the rest was a hazy blur punctuated only by a few disconnected words.
Bargain.
Pranpriya.
Contract.
"She offered to tell me," I admitted. "That day we met her at Anemia. As long as I played one of her little games …"
"And what was that?"
I swallowed. For some reason I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze directly so I stared down at her oddly bare throat instead. "Who was Pranpriya?"
She flinched. The motion was so imperceptible that I probably wouldn't have noticed had I not been watching her so carefully. My eyes darted up to see a pure, raw hatred flash through those silver eyes—only this time, it didn't fade.
It lingered, directed solely at me.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Somi. Who was he?"
An old friend, Raphael had said—but something told me that there was more to it than that.
"Pranpriya?" Lisa's eyes narrowed into slits. "A fool who sold soul for five hundred years for nothing more than power. Much like you, Jennie, had no qualms in staining the soul. A monster, a fool. Who killed. Relished the destruction of lives. In fact," she added coldly, "you would have loved him."
"Why would she want me to say that name?" I managed to ask in a whisper. "Was one of your contracts?"
No, Jennie, a part of me whispered. Don't be so naïve.
"I don't know," Lisa spat, but she wasn't looking at me. She glared at the wall above my head. If looks could kill, the centuries-old stone would have crumbled to dust. "What else has Somi told you?"
I hesitated. "She told me about the auction. That …"
I couldn't even repeat the rest; apparently I had been the most 'requested morsel of the evening.'
It was a lie. It had to be.
I stared at Lisa, waiting for her to laugh and prove my suspicions wrong—but she didn't. Those eyes took on a frosty hue and any resemblance to the human she might have been was gone.
"Say it," the vampire hissed. "Use your words, Jennie."
"You didn't have to buy me," I croaked. Mikhail had been a willing buyer, according to Somi. "Right? I thought, I-I mean, isn't that what you wanted, to auction me off?"
"What I wanted …" her mouth curved into a terrible smile that sucked all of the air from the room. "Jennie Kim, you don't know a damn thing about what I want." She flung the words at me like the snap of a whip. "You should have been the easiest contract I've ever brokered, nothing more than some dowdy little heiress who should have jumped at the chance at more time. So simple, that I decided to handle it myself rather than turn the job over to Somi. Simple …but nothing ever is with you, Jennie. Is it?"
I couldn't speak. This wasn't Lisa. Gone was the mocking persona and the cutting insults. In its place, raw anger leaked from her in waves, searing my skin.
"You weren't offered a contract at random. Oh no, Jennie," she said. "I was ordered to ensure that you made one. Do you remember the 'therapist' your doctor recommended to you that day in the hospital?"
As if her words were the trigger, I recalled the day Dr. Wallis had given me his diagnosis—my death sentence. I at least suggest some form of counseling, he had recommended. A colleague of mine is one of the leading psychiatrists in the country ...
"Yes."
"That was me," Lisa said. "Dear old Doctor Wallis wasn't a very willing accomplice, but his job was simple. I was waiting in his office when he delivered his diagnosis. All you had to do—the woman who'd been given a death sentence—was sit there and cry like so many others have before. Accept me and my offer. But you …left. You refused." She took a step closer, feet pounding against the floor. "That was the first time you denied me. Even in the hallway, you knew instantly what I was, and you denied me again. Did you ever stop to think how odd it was that I had 'accidentally' bumped into you at just the right moment?"
I couldn't speak. I could still picture her, a virtual Angel of Death in that white coat. She had been waiting for me.
"Congratulations, Jennie," she continued, "I've been gathering contracts for centuries and yet you are the first person to react to their impending demise without even batting an eyelash."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered. My head was spinning. Dr. Wallis. Therapist. Her.
"There is no illness by the name of hemohemorrahgia."
She might as well have punched me.
"W-What?"
"It was a clever ruse to explain away a medical condition that most mortals aren't even aware of." She reached down to snatch my hand from the mattress, gazing down at the two angry red marks that pierced the skin. Her thumb swept over them in a burst of pain.
"Do you want to know why a single bite from Raphael nearly killed you? Don't you think there's a better question?" She added before I could answer, eyes so dark they touched on ebony. "Why you can tolerate my bites so very exquisitely? Why you don't even shiver when I touch you?"
She brushed a curl behind my ear as if to prove it.
"Use that clever brain of yours, Jennie. Let's see if you can think back to our very first 'lessons.' What did I tell you about being bitten?"
The words marched across my mind as suddenly as if she'd whispered them into my ear.
"No more than three times a night by a single vampire."
"And do you know why that is?"
I swallowed, painfully aware of just how close she was. Her tone was mocking, loathing.
"No—"
"Mortals have adapted to my kind without even knowing it. Once a vampire's venom is introduced into the bloodstream, it changes it—more powerfully than any human drug. Too much venom from one particular vampire, and over time the blood grows to suit that particular brand of venom. The human subconsciously becomes addicted to it. Their body ceases to function without a daily dose, and the withdrawal effects can be …violent."
Withdrawal effects.
In Dr. Wallis' crisp tones, a list of symptoms marched across my brain. Headaches, dizziness, uncontrollable bleeding.
"You've been unknowingly consuming my venom for months, Jennie," Lisa said. "I've had it slipped into your drinks, your meals."
She said it so calculatingly. As if it was completely irrelevant that she had poisoned me for months only to ensure that I would have no choice but to sign a contract.
"How?" I rasped.
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "How else? Do you really think that you're the only soul on Kim property to have a contract? Your friend Harper was particularly useful."
The words had the effect of a knife stabbing deep into my chest. Harper—the only man I figured I'd ever really trusted. My throat contracted. I tried wrenching my hand from Lisa's, but she held tight, nails nearly piercing my skin.
"You were dying from two months of venom withdrawal, Jennie," she repeated, as if to help it sink in. "That's why your body subconsciously craves even a drop of mine. Your blood is linked to me and only me. There is no cure. Without my blood in your system, you would have died."
Somehow, a mythical blood disorder had been easier to swallow.
It had been almost too easy to face Dr. Wallis and accept that I would die without shedding a single tear. But this was different—horrifying. The one standing before me had deliberately made sure that I had no choice …
And she didn't even seem to care.
"Tell me why you bought my contract at the auction," I croaked. Was it a game? A joke? A way for her to take my virginity and just inflict more pain? "Why? Why?"
Her cold expression faltered, revealing a flash of real emotion underneath. I had caught her off guard, but I was too confused to even relish in the victory.
"Tell me," I said, not even recognizing the sound of my own voice; an old woman had to be speaking, not me.
Finally …her jaw unclenched and the words came like blows.
"My methods were too effective, Jennie. Your blood accepts only my venom. I knew it the first night I bit you. Had someone else fed from you, you would have died. Raphael knew this as well, but you were too stubborn to take the easy route. Once you were signed to the club, you had to be auctioned …and I was forced to save your life yet again."
Again.
"You said Raphael's bite nearly killed me." I sounded weak, faint; a ghost barely clinging to reality. "How did you save me? Did you give me your blood—"
"No." her eyes were a stormy gray, flashing with hints of silver but her tone was softer. "Even that wouldn't have been enough this time."
"Then how …"
Like a punch to the chest, the truth became clear. The necklace.
Without thinking, I reached down to clutch the chain with my fingers. It felt strange; cold and yet hot at the same time. Alive.
"It's enchanted," Lisa explained. "The magic inside it is the only thing keeping you alive."
I was too exhausted to question it. One day I needed her blood to live, and now her necklace apparently.
"And if I remove it?"
She didn't have to respond—a part of me already knew the answer before she did.
"You'll die."
Forget the weight of the contract; I would have almost preferred to have to drink her blood every day for an eternity than—literally—have my entire life hanging from a thread. The shape of the cross haunted me from the surface of the bed.
"Why did you even go into that damn restaurant?" Lisa demanded suddenly. "Do you have no ounce of self preservation? I told you to go home. Nothing else should have convinced you otherwise. Nothing."
Something in her tone triggered a horrible thought.
"The driver …"
"He's dead," she said without a shred of remorse. "Technically Raphael owned his contract, but I killed him for betraying me none the less. Another body to add to your growing list of casualties."
The driver's stern face flashed through my mind. Dead.
"Why?"
She turned away from me again.
"And why would Raphael want to kill me if he ordered you to secure my contract in the first place? Why me?" My voice trembled as I finally voiced the questions I supposed I should have the moment she'd declared our 'contract' null and void.
Her hands were clenched at her sides, shoulders set in rigid lines. Anger had settled into a cold, icy crust that encased her from head to toe.
"I've told you all along that you don't understand the game you've so stubbornly decided to play," she began in a tone so flat and emotionless that it resonated down my spine like a physical blow. "Well now you're a pawn in it. Raphael sees you only as a tool to obtain whatever it is that he wants. The fact that you're still alive means he's succeeded."
"What does he want?" I forced a dry swallow. "Money?"
God, I didn't know why it hurt me so much just to say it out loud.
Rather than agree, Lisa …stood there.
"You and your damn money," she spat. For a moment, I feared she actually might strike me, tear me apart with her bare hands, just like she'd threatened the other night.
"Do you have any idea what some people would give for a day of freedom? A year? Ten? You may have no trouble with throwing your life away, Jennie, but not all of us have that luxury."
She advanced, step by step until she stood by my side of the bed. She was too close, too loud—even though her voice was little more than a whisper.
"Maybe I should have just put you out of your misery the first day I saw you?"
"You're scaring me." My voice was monotone, dead.
"Good," she countered, though she pulled back, "because you scare me. You dance on the edge of the proverbial cliff, ignoring everyone who screams at you to back away. Death welcomes you and you welcome it. It's living that scares you, Jennie. Not me."
Without another word she turned, heading for the door.
"If this wasn't about money, then why?" I croaked after her. "Why get my contract in the first place?"
"Why else?" She paused to glare at me from over her shoulder, words echoing like the aftershocks of a slap. "To get to the only Kim that matters."
A second later, she was gone and the sound of a slamming door cemented the ache I felt in the pit of my stomach.
My face was wet, and I reached up almost surprised to find warm beads of moisture sliding down my cheeks. Tears? Blood?
Whatever they were …they wouldn't stop falling.