know about me, why would they want to keep me alive?
Why not just stake me or burn me alive or something?
Hell, cut off my head. Chop chop, and we’re done.
Rolling my eyes, I jerked my attention back to virtual shopping.
My name is Fiona MacRieve. Always good to remember that part.
I was a succubus.
Or I used to be.
Now?
I didn’t know what I’d become.
But as long as they planned on keeping me alive, they better hope they could keep me in here, because my lust for vengeance grew by the hour, and I could feed on that, too.
Just saying.
Chapter 2
“A lion’s work hours are only when he’s hungry; once he’s satisfied, the predator and prey live peacefully together.” - Chuck Jones
The next week passed much as the first two here had. I’d finally begun to decorate my new vacation house. The one I hadn’t purchased yet, but would be on my list when I got out of here. I used to have this really great loft apartment that overlooked a river. Some nights, when there were fireworks, I could lie in bed and watch them go off.
My new place would be high up, too. Something with lots of windows…whether I could take the sun or not was semantics. I hadn’t actually tested the theory. I’d pretty much woken up trashed, dead, and sporting some semi-fangs that weren’t as nice as those you could buy at a costume shop.
Then I was here.
In this hole at the bottom of the world.
Focus. The mental chastisement pulled me back to the target. Cliff house, maybe something sitting up on a bluff. I wanted to look out over the ocean this time, not just a river, and I didn’t want city lights in the distance…or did I?
Compromise. Put a secondary deck on the opposite side that would let me look at a city in the distance. That would work, but I wanted my bedroom open to the ocean. I wanted to be able to throw open the windows and let in the breeze. I wanted to taste fresh, salty air and feel the sun warm my skin.
A clang in the hall jerked me out of my building. Irritated, I sat up on the bed as the first clang was followed by a second. Then the unrelenting clanging grew in force and volume. My head began to pulse in time to the banging, and I scowled.
It was too early for Dorran to come calling. He’d only come twice in the last seven days. Both times because I’d refused to feed. The last time had been the night before. My hunger and my body were both well-sated. I usually enjoyed a lovely period of hazy daydreaming in the first couple of days after glutting myself.
As distasteful as drinking blood was, I had begun craving his. Probably why the fresh blood bags they’d delivered at first light still lay right next to the door. I wasn’t touching them. I didn’t even like how they smelled.
The racket outside increased in volume until it seemed the pound right through my body, splintering any focus I tried to rebuild. Glaring at the door, I waited. This was a departure in my routine.
After three weeks of staring at walls punctuated by nightly screaming and the regular visits of the warden for some bouts of fucking and feeding, this stood out.
The clanging stopped abruptly a split-second before the metal of my door screeched a complaint when it was hauled open. It didn’t open inward, no, that would allow me to block it. It swung out, so they could also barricade me in.
A guard filled the doorway. Well, maybe it was a guard. He was dressed in a heavy black uniform with tight leather breeches that were doing fabulous things for his thighs. His ferocious expression betrayed nothing.
Dude had mastered resting dick face.
Awesome.
The piercing frost of his almost silver eyes bored right through me. “Fiona MacRieve?”
Rolling my shoulders back, I gave him a bored look. “Depends.”
“On what?” he barked in a growly voice, something like shock creeping across his scruffed face. The straight edged nose above his very full lips added to the overall appeal. He didn’t belong in this dark, dank place. The flickering light from the sconces played over his face and warmed him a fraction.
Course, that could just be a trick of the light.
He took a single step inside, but I didn’t respond. Instead, I just watched him. The sudden shift in routine offered me an opportunity. The question was what kind opportunity.