I apologize for your situation. I hope we can find a way to work through this and become friends.
Love
Enrique
Okay … Suboxone. Some of the guys at the Towers mentioned it once. It helps fight off heroin withdrawals. One guy said it gave a slight buzz, but nothing like heroin. I have never and will never try heroin. I’ve seen what addicts look like, it’s really fucked up.
So why would he give me Suboxone?
And why wait till seven? Three hours from now. I didn’t want to wait for him. I wanted him here now. Right now! I wanted him to bite me again right now!
“Son of a bitch! He got me with that fucking bite. That’s what he’s been talking about. He’s got me hyped on his bite! Fucking vampires!”
I had a craving, a need, an unscratchable itch for Enrique. Three more hours to go.
Chapter 6
I was bouncing off the walls by 5:30 p.m.. The Suboxone helped get rid of my headache, and I had a decent buzz going. None of that solved the craving I had for Enrique, or more specifically his bite. A warm bath didn’t help, the three cans of Ensure didn’t help, nor did the half bottle of chardonnay, although it kicked up my buzz nicely.
By 7:16 p.m., I was ready to strip the floral print wallpaper off with my nails. Every part of my body ached for Enrique. I don’t mean pain, I mean need, desire, angst. By 7:17 p.m. I kicked at the locked door, front kicks and sidekicks. I took a few steps back to do a jumping side kick when he opened the door with the most infuriatingly calm comment on his lips.
“Did you miss me?”
I screamed and launched forward. “You son of a bitch!”
He caught me right out of the air in a graceful embrace, absorbing all my impact in his iron hard arms. Before I could react, he bit me fast and hard, right in the neck, robbing me of all sense and reason. Anger, hatred, need, frustration, all obliterated in the blast of sweet, sweet euphoria so intense it brought tears to my eyes. He carried me to the bed as I convulsed with orgasms, still held in the leech’s embrace as if he cared for me. It’s a good thing I didn’t have any underwear on beneath my bathrobe, I would’ve had to change them. My inner thighs were soaked by the time he let up.
I hated and loved him. I wanted to kill him, fuck him, and kiss him, all at the same time. What a mess. Hate won the toss up as the strongest sentiment of the moment.
“I hate you.” I spoke in a quiver, breathless from his bite.
“I expected as much. It’s regrettable, but under the circumstances you left me no choice.” He sighed.
“That’s all you have to say? What did you do to me?”
“I know this seems bad. I understand you’re upset, and rightfully so. I apologize, but it was necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had to assure your loyalty. I had to bind you to me. There was no other way.”
“What do you mean bind? How am I bound? I can’t read your mind! You have to tell me what you’ve done to me. Why do I want to be with you all the time? Why do I need you to bite me?”
“I understand. It must be upsetting you can’t get in here.” He tapped his finger on his skull. “The only name for your condition I have ever known is an archaic terminology I learned from my master over a century ago. He called them ‘Bloodslaves’. I think it’s an inappropriate title. I have no intention of making you a slave.”
“If I’m not a slave then why don’t you let me go home?” I whined.
“Querida, you know too much. It was bad enough you knew of our existence. Then Lia brought you here. She is a constant strain on my patience. If she had let you be, the situation would’ve diffused itself. I imagine you considered her an eccentric. As it stands now, I can’t let you go. To be truthful, your particular talents are intriguing. I’m beginning to like the idea of having you around.”
He had me crying by then. I couldn’t go home, ever. He’d never let me go. Hating him for my captivity, I still felt this inexplicable desire to touch him, coerce him into biting me again. The bastard had me hooked like a damn heroin junky! As I stood there with tears streaming down my face, the son of a bitch hugged me.
It didn’t seem real. Like a bad dream I couldn’t wake up from. He had to let me go home.
“What if I promised I would never say a word to anyone? Who would believe me? This is all so crazy! I can’t hurt you or expose you in any way! I’m an illegal immigrant! I can’t call the police or any other government agency! Your secret’s safe with me! I don’t care who or what you are, or where you live. I just want to go home!” I begged him shamelessly. “I don’t want to be a bloodslave! And I can’t stand it here. Your mind is locked up solid. You could be lying to me! I don’t know anything about you!”
“Shush, Shush, Shush. It does no good to lament. What’s done is done. Querida ... you are bound to me. The bond cannot be broken. Surely you’ve noticed the connection between us, the way you need me?”
“OH MY GOD! You did this to me on purpose!”
“Though I’m not proud of it, I’ll not lie. Yes ... I did this.”
“Oh God, I’m a slave!”
“That’s not really correct. I’ve no need to stoop to such degradation. I respect you. Enough drama – let’s look at some of the positives here.”
“What’s positive?”
“I know this seems bad, and it is, but there are some benefits to this life. Come with me.”
I followed him reluctantly into the luxurious bathroom attached to my bedroom prison cell. The nicest bed/bath combo I’d ever stayed in. If I could come and go at will it would be perfect.
We stood before the mirror. “Do you notice anything different about yourself?”
I looked in my eyes. I had a post orgasm flush, anger and frustration evident on my face. My eyes were wet from crying. Nothing seemed different from the person in the mirror an hour ago when I’d taken a bath.
“What’s supposed to be different?”
I took him seriously, a new sense of fear bloomed in my gut. What had he done to me? Was I changed? Was I like him now? I opened my mouth to inspect my teeth, looking for the tell-tale fangs. Nada. Nothing changed that I could see.
Enrique snorted laughter. I elbowed him in the ribs. My temper flared up. This was my life he laughed at! The asshole felt so damn solid, like hitting a piece of wood.
He had a twinkle in his eye. “Look at your face. Do you see any bruises or black eyes?”
The bastard hadn’t even flinched when I hit him, he was impervious. He stared at me expectantly with a faintly amused expression. I looked in the mirror again. I scowled, not a very attractive look for me overall. No bruises, no black eyes, not a mark on me from yesterday’s scuffle. My elbows didn’t have any raw spots from when I’d hit the floor. The bite marks that should have been on my neck were nowhere to be found.
I again asked the question, “What did you do to me?” My voice filled with fear and awe.
“There are some pleasant advantages of repeated exposure to our bite. With each bite a small amount of venom is released into your system. This causes the euphoria. Our venom is quite beneficial over time. You’ll heal much more quickly. Your immune system will improve, a higher resistance to communicable diseases. And you’ll age more slowly than the average person. You could live to be well over a hundred. How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”
In shock from his words, it took me a few seconds to answer. “Twenty-two”
“Oh ... well you seemed a bit older. So very young to have lived through so much. It’s to your advantage. You’ll look as you do for many years to come. A good situation for someone so young, to enjoy youth for a few extra years.
“How old are you?”
“Very old.”
“You don’t look a day over thirty five.”
“Why thank you.”
The bastard had calmed me down. I chatted with him like old friends. He was so damn easy to talk to. Attractive, intelligent, kind, beautiful hazel eyes staring at me without blinking. Damn. I was falling under his spell. And why tell me all this? The more he revealed the more dangerous I became to him. He’d never let me go now, I knew too much. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! And still he stared at me with those beautiful unblinking eyes.
“I thought vampires were immortal, what’s all this hundred years shit? I could live that long just by being careful.”
“We live very long lives indeed, several hundred years or more. But you’re not a vampire.”
“Oh I get it. I’m just here for you to bite and fuck. I’m just food – a bloodslave.”
“Calmate querida. Vulgarity is so unattractive coming from such a beautiful woman. Listen to me carefully. You are not a slave. You’re my guest, permanently. That’s how you’ll be treated, that’s how it is.”
“A guest who can never leave the bedroom. That’s the same thing as a slave.”
“No more strife. Let’s get you some clothing, a few amenities. Lia has provided clothes temporarily. Get ready and I’ll return for you shortly.”
“We’re leaving? I actually get to leave the bedroom? Where are we going?”
“Yes, with me of course. I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m taking you shopping as a gesture of goodwill. Isn’t that what all women want to do in Manhattan?”
All I wanted was to go home. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I had been kidnapped and turned into a slave. I could imagine Arana and Faustino were already alerted to my absence and looking for me at this very moment. The ‘going shopping’ bribery routine didn’t impress me.
“Oh I see. I’m to be a pampered slave, how delightful.” Maybe I pushed it too far, he didn’t look very happy.
“Thirty minutes! Be ready!”
He left me standing in front of the mirror as he locked the bedroom door from the outside on his way out. Who installs locks like that, anyways? He must have imprisoned others here before me ... others who were now probably dead and gone.
