Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 64359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I get the very intense feeling that something very bad is about to happen to me. The valker's anger is wrapping around me, gripping me almost like a physical force. He does not like being disobeyed. He does not care about my ice cream sundae. He doesn’t care about anything in this moment other than securing my obedience.
His hand comes down on the back of my neck. I let out a scream of terror. His vibe was bad enough to begin with, but now he is making contact with me, I feel a form of fear that starts right in the lizard part of my brain, runs down my spine, finds my knuckles and the very tips of my fingers and toes. I start to kick and twist in his grip, causing a scene that creates much consternation in those who are looking on. Nobody is going to come to my aid. They are going to watch him drag me out of here without saying a single word to him.
I start grabbing onto things. The table, for starters. Unfortunately, it’s not affixed to the floor and so there is a loud scraping sound as both the table and I start to be dragged toward the doorway, collecting furniture along the way. Aliens abandon their meals, so drinks and plates of food start to tip off tables as my table bangs into theirs and pulls it with me.
“Let go!”
The valker demands I stop trying to save myself, but that is not possible. Even if I wanted to, there’s no way I could. I am gripping the table for dear life. I may as well be hanging over an endless abyss for the way my brain insists on holding onto this cheap diner furniture.
He almost has me to the door, but he is taking so much of the interior of the diner with him that the bill is going to be exorbitant. A scene is well and truly being made, especially as I have now started to yell at the top of my lungs. There’s not a high chance that anybody will help me, but I may as well try to throw myself on the mercy of strangers. Someone here might have a bone to pick with the vampire aliens, or even this one in particular. Or someone might be possessed of a hero complex. I am a damsel in the utmost distress, and everybody knows about it.
The valker starts to peel my fingers off the table. He gets my first hand off, but the moment he then moves to the other hand, I grip with the first again. I have never, in my life, wanted to have prehensile toes as much as I do in this moment.
“You chose to sell yourself; I don’t see why you are putting up such a fuss now,” he growls. “You are breaching the terms of your sale. You are obliged to be obedient.”
I have no intention of being obedient. Even if I had only sold myself to him in a genuine sale, I would not let him take me.
“I’ll give you a refund!”
“I am not interested in a refund. I am interested in taking you where I need you to be. Now let go of the blasted table and come quietly. You are not doing yourself any favors. I will not have an unruly, disobedient mate!”
“You won’t have me at all!”
I had intended a better level of pretense. Actually, I intended on never being caught at all, but this alien destroyed my composure almost instantly. I pride myself on not being afraid of anything I don’t have to be afraid of. It’s a waste of time and energy, but something about this alien neutralizes my bravery and shows it to be nothing more than bravado.
“You’re mine!
There is a sharp pain on the back of my neck, a series of simultaneous piercing sensations. He’s bitten me. I stop moving instantly. Again, instinct is working to protect me. If I move even slightly, there is a real chance he will sever something important for living.
I feel him inside me, sharp skewers of bone lodged in my flesh. Heat flowers around the incisions. I know that is the feeling of my blood being shed. A slightly raspy tongue, much like a cat’s tongue, laps at the blood while his various fangs remain inside me. Not a word is spoken. I don’t dare speak. I barely even dare breathe.
Mine.
I feel the word inside my head. I do not hear it, precisely, but I sense it. It is a language I have never experienced before. It is like being spoken to using my own interior flesh. I could easily mistake his thought for mine if not for how possessive and insistent the thought is.
I feel myself starting to go limp. I am giving in, though I do not want to. My energy is being drained in a psychic fashion. The amount of actual blood he is taking is very little compared to the total volume of my body, but I do not think that matters. I think the blood is a conduit for something else. For my will, or perhaps my soul.