"So?" Pudge frowned. "What?"
"Are you going to kill me now or what?" Rachel asked.
"No!" He looked startled at the very possibility. "No way. It's my fault you're a vampire chick. Or is it vampiress?" While he sat muttering and fretting, Rachel tried to figure out exactly where that left her. Judging by the awe in his tone, Pudge was much more impressed by a female vampire. He seemed to see her being a vampire as a cool thing, whereas Etienne being one meant he was someone to be obliterated. She wasn't sure why.
"So..."
Rachel glanced at Pudge's face, made curious by his almost excited look. Nothing prepared her for his question, however. "Are you hungry?"
Taken by surprise she might be, but his question was relevant. She didn't think she'd lost too much blood from the cuts to her throat, but she was hungry. Her gaze drifted to the refrigerator in the kitchen. Did he have any blood in there? It didn't seem likely, but if not, why did he ask if she was hungry? Then again, if he did have blood, she wasn't at all sure it would be safe to drink in this bacteria factory he called a home. She half-suspected it wouldn't be. Could anything in this place be safe to put near her mouth?
"You could bite me," Pudge offered, drawing her attention. He looked rather excited at the prospect. Rachel felt her appetite die a quick death.
"Thanks, but--" she began politely.
"Oh, come on. You have to be craving blood. You could even turn me if you wanted." His gaze dropped to her chest.
Rachel tried not to look repulsed. The idea of his existing in the world forever was a horrible one, almost as bad as biting him. She doubted he was much cleaner than his house. However, she didn't want to cheese the guy off. She hadn't figured out what he intended to do with her, but until she had the chance to escape, she figured it would be a good thing to humor him.
"No, thanks," she said politely in response to his offer. Letting her gaze drift toward the bit of living room she could see, she noticed wood blocking the balcony doors and the metal bars over them. The house was rather gloomy. Glancing around at the other windows, she noted they too were covered with wood and metal bars. Perhaps he hadn't always intended to kill Etienne.
"You know, you aren't bad-looking."
Rachel's attention slid back to her captor. She wasn't quite sure how to respond. From anyone else, the words might be a compliment. The way he said it spoke of disappointment. She understood that disappointment when he explained, "Well, you know. You're pretty enough, but not quite what I expected. In all the movies, the vamp chicks are..." He paused, apparently searching for the right word. "Hotter. You know. Black vinyl bustiers and high-heeled, thigh-high boots." His gaze was fixed on her chest, as if he were trying to work out whether she might be wearing a black vinyl bustier under her sweatshirt.
Rachel sighed and decided it was going to be a long day.
Etienne gave his office door a frustrated kick, then turned and paced to the refrigerator in his desk. He had already ingested four bags while examining the damage done to the door and seeing if he couldn't somehow fix it. It was looking like it would be an impossibility. Pudge had really done a number on it, and that combined with the high-tech security he had installed to keep his office theftproof were working against him. He also wished he'd been smart enough to turn on that high-tech security system Rachel had mentioned. Unfortunately, between trying to soothe Rachel's anger last night and making love to her, he'd forgotten to reactivate it after entry.
Etienne cursed his stupidity. He'd never really been worried about his home or his possessions, or even himself before. His work had been the only thing he had thought both valuable and vulnerable until now. He'd never been concerned about being attacked. The average house robber would have been in for an unpleasant surprise had he tried breaking into his home, especially it he had the temerity to attack him. Then too, the days of threat from vampire hunters were long over--or had been until Pudge. But Rachel was very valuable to Etienne, far more valuable than he had admitted to her. And thanks to his neglect, she was now in danger, and he was helpless.
Etienne had made his office into a sort of panic room--both human-and vampire-proof--since everything computer was surprisingly popular with vampires. Now Pudge had turned his high-tech panic room into a cage by ripping out his door panel. No one could get in or out without an acetylene torch to cut through the six-inch steel. Unfortunately, Etienne hadn't had the forethought to keep one in his office. He was stuck until Bastien and Lucern arrived. Hours from now. Hours during which anything could happen to Rachel.
Etienne glared at the thousands of dollars' worth of ruined equipment that used to make up his work station. If he could get some of it up and running again, he might be able to contact someone sooner. It was a longshot. Pudge had been thorough in his destruction. Still, it was better than sitting imagining all the horrible things that could happen to Rachel.
He grabbed another bag of blood from the fridge, noting absently that it was starting to grow warm. Apparently Pudge had managed to hit the fridge too. Still, it wasn't really a concern. He'd had enough blood already and didn't mind it a tad warm.
He set to work fiddling with his equipment.
"I am not biting Muffin." Rachel glared at Pudge as he dangled the small terrier before her. She couldn't even believe he would suggest it. The man was a sicko. Taking her earlier diplomatic silence as encouragement, Pudge had explained that he really wanted to be a vampire. He thought it would be cool to live forever and run the night with vamp chicks on his arm. He seemed to see himself as the star of his own B-grade vamp movie, his skinny, greasy geek persona being traded in for the debonair bad boy of the night.
As if being turned would somehow change his looks and personality too.
When Rachel had made a murmur she hoped he would take as encouragement rather than the derision it was, he had got quite animated, explaining that he had fantasized about this a lot since realizing Etienne was a vampire. One of his plans had been to finally kill Etienne, then scope the funeral, pick out a vamp chick--" 'cause you know, lots of 'em would probably attend his funeral"--then pick the one he liked best and bring her back to his pad. There she would go down on him and turn him by biting his--
Rachel had interrupted at that point to inform him that, if he expected or tried to force her to bite him there, he could think again. He'd tilted his head and said, "But I have the stake. I've got the power. You have to do what I say."
Rachel had narrowed her eyes on the little cockroach and calmly told him, "Yes. You have the stake and therefore the power--for now. But if you try to force me to bite you there, I'll bite it right off. Like blood chewing gum." She'd then forced an evil grin, hoping all the while that her face didn't reflect her nausea.
Judging by the way Pudge had paled and crossed his legs, Rachel assumed her warning was a suitable deterrent. He'd certainly stopped insisting she could bite and turn him, but he had also forced her to her feet and ordered her to lead the way to the basement.
At that point, Rachel had feared she might have gone too far and made herself useless, thus signing her own death warrant. However, he hadn't killed her. He had chained her to the walls of his basement. He really had been all set up to bring a "vamp chick" here to his home, and apparently hadn't expected her to be cooperative right away. Presumably, he thought he could change that with a little time. Perhaps he was counting on Stockholm syndrome or something to kick in and help with the matter.
Whatever the case, he'd ordered her to step up to the wall and snap the steel manacles around her ankles, thighs, waist, and neck. He'd approached carefully once she had, keeping the crossbow pointed at her chest, and affixed the ones around her shoulders and wrists. He'd then left her there and returned upstairs. Rachel had immediately set to work trying to escape her bonds, but these had been even thicker and stronger than the ones in the van, and he had affixed them to the wall so that she stood legs spread and arms out, which made it difficult to gain full strength.
She had still been struggling with them and cursing when the door to the upstairs had opened moments ago. He had returned below to dangle a small fluffy white terrier from its leash before her and sing out the word "dinner."
"I am not biting him," Rachel repeated now. Then, unable to watch the poor animal struggle and choke, she tugged uselessly at her manacles and snapped, "Put that poor animal down. You're choking him to death."