Vampire's Prey

Chapter 7: Sold

Warning: Explicit content below. To avoid it, start reading half way through the chapter.

I scramble to my feet and pull on the door handle. It won't budge. My arms ache from breaking my fall, but I push through the discomfort and bang on the door. "Let me out! I know you're-"

"Slave," a voice calls from behind.

My heart falls into my stomach. My body tenses, and I slowly turn around. The bald vampire is sitting on an old grey bed on the other side of the room. I'm trapped in here with him.

My senses are overwhelmed by the bedrooms putrid smell. Sunlight peeks through the cracks in the boarded-up window above the bed. His leather coat hangs over the lone chair in the corner.

I'm frozen.

"You appear confused," he says, feigning concern with a hint of malice hidden underneath. "'Tis cute."

He rises to his feet, and I step back. He approaches, and my back presses flat against the door. There's nowhere to go. He is huge – a head taller than me, with arms almost the size of my legs.

"You're flustered," he says. "Is it... desire?"

I jerk away as his grubby fingers reach for my hair.

His expression hardens. "Kneel, slave."

No. I shake my head, trembling.

His fist slams into my stomach, crushing my abdomen between his knuckles and the door. I fall to the ground and gasp for air. My arms snap to my middle as the pain radiates through my core. His blow reignites the bruises from Rahlan's assault.

"Your head says no," he begins, "but your breathing is more honest."

I push myself to sit up, keeping my balance with one arm and holding my burning stomach with the other. My neck cranes to meet his gaze.

"Lucky for you, disobedient human whores are my favorite."

No. Not this.

"Your kind needs to learn where they belong." He grabs my arms and throws me face first on the bed. The impact sends a new shock of pain through my stomach. I try curl up to protect myself, but he flips me on my back and wraps his fingers around my neck. I can barely get any air in. I pull against his grip, but it's fruitless.

He leans over me, and the bed sinks with his weight. "Don't worry," he says. His fingers curl under my pants' waistband. I hate the feeling of his rough skin against mine. "You'll enjoy this, whore."

No. I grip my pants with both hands.

He yanks hard, and my belt bites into my skin, making me groan. I try dislodging his fingers, but he grabs my wrist instead. My neck is released so he can catch my other wrist and force them together.

I try desperately to pull my hands apart. He wraps a finger around each wrist to hold them stationary with just one hand, trapping both my arms above my head.

He yanks at my pants again. I can't get my arms free. I squirm under his grip, jerking my whole body from side to side. Anything to keep his hands off me.

He yanks again, my belt snaps and my pants tear.

"No!"

He rips them further, tearing them completely off. Cold air rushes over my skin.

He straddles me, trapping my legs under his heavy body. I lift my head, and my breath catches in my throat. My shoes and underwear are the only clothing left below my waist.