Forced to Buy a Vampire Slave (rewrite) Book #1

Chapter One

I was in the middle of shoving a second orange and cardamom scone into my mouth when my parents decided to broach a subject was normally not reserved for the dining hall, because it always ended up in a pretty nasty argument.

"We have a surprise for you." Mom said, her red hair pulled back in an elegant bun. I did have the same shade of hair as hers. Until, out of spite, I dumped a box of black hair dye over it and didn't look back. She'd adored my hair color. Everyone had adored my hair color. So, I ruined it. But I kept the fair skin and smattering of freckles.

"What is it?" I asked around a mouthful of scone, and in return received an admonishing look from her. I finished chewing and washed down the food with a gulp of lukewarm coffee.

"You'll be going to the West River auction house." she informed me, a small smile on her lips.

I felt my stomach twist into knots, and my appetite suddenly diminished. I set down my food, mood now sullen. "I have no reason to go there."

"But you do," Dad said.

I was turning seventeen today, and according to my parents, I should have already bought a vampire from the auction house. According to me, vampires should have never been enslaved in the first place.

"I don't want a slave. I've told you-"

"This isn't a choice anymore." he stated. "When you're Queen perhaps you can decide not to have slaves. Until then, you'll do as we say. Having a slave is expected of someone of such high status. Whether you like it or not is beside the point. You have to support the enslavement of vampires, you're in line to the throne. Your great grandfather created and imposed the Act of Chains. It's our legacy, Arabelle."

Anytime I was reminded of our legacy, it made a heavy, ill feeling start at the the pit of my stomach and crawl all the way up to my throat. I hated being reminded of what my great grandfather had done. It made my skin burn with shame. I wasn't proud of enslaving another species, and my parents were insane for thinking I should be. As you could imagine, this caused quite a big rift between us.

"It's only one," Mom said.

"That doesn't make me feel better." I responded.

She seemed to disregard my words and continued, "Should we have a spare room in the cellar prepared?"

The cellar was where my parents housed all of their slaves. It was much larger than the average cellar, and I had only gone down there once, years ago. I tried to avoid it, because it was a depressing sight. Telling my parents how wrong keeping vampires as slaves was did nothing to sway them, it only served to annoy them, so I had eventually stopped trying to argue the point. Unless it was brought up.

"No." I immediately responded.

My parents exchanged a glance.

"Then where would you have them stay?" Dad asked.

I thought for a moment. If I was going to have a slave, then I could at least try my best to treat them well. I didn't trust having them live in a separate room because then I couldn't keep an eye on how they would be treated by anyone else in the castle, and my parents sometimes enjoyed keeping guests that relished in the activity of punishing what they deemed to be disobedient slaves.

"In my room." I said.

Dad's expression was tight with disapproval. "Absolutely not."

"If I'm to own a slave, then I can do with them as I please. Isn't that how it works?" I crossed my arms.