Take her in the cell

I didn’t mean to sleep.

But exhaustion took over, and eventually, even fear couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Still, it wasn’t peaceful. Not the kind of sleep you fall into and forget.

I never sank too deep.

My body refused to trust this bed, no matter how soft the sheets or how warm the room. I drifted in and out, eyes fluttering open at every sound, every creak, every shift of air. My muscles stayed tense, as if expecting someone, or something to crawl out of the shadows and tear me away.

I slept with my back to the wall. Knees drawn up. One hand curled into a fist beneath the pillow like a weapon. It was stupid. Pointless. But it made me feel less powerless. There were moments. Moments where my breathing evened out.

Where my fingers loosened.

Where everything made me feel more scared, the abduction, the blood, the smell of roses and death faded just enough for my mind to drift.

I dreamed of nothing.

Not blissful.

...

Three sharp raps against the heavy wood door were far too loud for the stillness of the early morning. But shockingly my body was no longer tied on the bed.

I sat up, heart thudding, disoriented. The candles had long burned down to stubs, and the only light came from a faint gray seep at the window's edge. Morning. Barely.

6 a.m., maybe.

The knock came again. Louder. Impatient.

I swung my legs off the bed, the floor cold against my feet. I was still in the same clothes, torn, bloodstained, wrinkled from sleep. My mouth tasted like shit, and my hair clung to the back of my neck with sweat. I hadn’t even washed the dried blood off my collarbone.

“Come in,” I said hoarsely, not because I wanted them to, but because I knew they would anyway.

The door opened.

The same girl from before stood there. Her braid was neater than mine would ever be, her expression flat, unreadable. This time, she wasn’t carrying water.

“You’re expected in the dining hall,” she said. “Now.”

I blinked at her, my voice slow and raw. “I’m expected… without bathing?”

She hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes. He doesn’t like waiting.”

“Tell him, I don’t want.....” I started.

“It’s not a request,” She cut me off in mid sentence immediately.

Of course it wasn’t but still I wanted to disobey.

“You should come,” she said quietly. “The last girl who made him wait… didn’t walk the next day.”

A chill slid down my spine. My throat tightened. But I didn’t let her see it.

“Lead the way,” I muttered.

She turned without another word, and I followed her out into the hallway.

I followed her, every step heavier than the last.

The hallway was silent, endless, unfamiliar but it was massive, lit by chandeliers dripping with crystal and fire. The air was perfumed with incense, spices, and something else beneath it all, blood. Coppery and sweet, like rusted sugar.

We reached a wide set of dark wooden doors, carved with curling vines and dead animal heads with hollow eyes. The girl pushed it open and that's when my mouth fall open as I gazed around.

The dining hall beyond was bathed in golden light. A long table stretched across the room, set with silver and glass and polished obsidian plates. Only one figure sat at the head, waiting.

Him.

The Blood King.

He wore black. Always black. But today there was a deep crimson pendant hanging from his throat, resting right where a heartbeat should be.

His eyes met mine. Not hungry. Not cruel. Just observing me.

“Sit,” he said motioning to the chair beside him.

My feet didn’t move. But I was already inside. And the doors shut behind me with a slow, echoing thud.

"I don't usually like repeating myself", He said, voice flat and emotionless

“I’m not here to follow whatever you tell me,” I snapped at him.

"Better behave before I suck you dry", His words made me become speechless for a moment. I really didn't want to die right now.

For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Him, unblinking. Me, seething. But it was a quiet kind of rage, born from helplessness and stripped dignity.

Eventually, I sank into the chair, not for him, not because he said so, but because standing felt like surrendering something else. Some invisible piece of control.

After me sitting, he raised his hand up. At his signal, servants entered with silver goblets, setting one before him and me.

I stared at mine, heart sinking. It was a rich, dark crimson. The scent hit me immediately. It wasn’t wine.

It was blood. I immediately shoved the goblet away. “I’m not drinking that.” I seethed.

The entire table fell silent and the servants stopped doing whatever they were doing.

The Blood King didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stared. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his seat.

“You insult my hospitality,” he said, voice dangerously calm. “I don’t care. I’m human. I’m not drinking someone else’s blood.”

“It’s not someone else’s,” he said. “It’s mine.”

My stomach twisted.

“That’s supposed to make it better?” I hissed. “I’m not like you. Why did you decide to get me your blood?.”

He opened his mouth, but I didn’t give him the chance.

I grabbed the goblet immediately , lifted it high and poured it out on him.

It was quick, but regretted it the moment, the vampire lord spoke.

“Take her to the cells.”

My blood went cold. “What?”

“You will learn obedience,” he said, voice sharp as broken glass. “And if you will not drink at my table, you will rot beneath it.”

Two guards moved toward me. I shoved my chair back, heart hammering. “You can’t just lock me away like some animal...”

“Can’t I?” he interrupted, voice dark with amusement. “You belong to me now. I’ll do as I please.”

The guards grabbed me, cold hands like iron.

“I’d rather die than be your pet,” I spat, struggling.

“You’re not important enough to be my pet,” he said softly, turning away. “You’re just a human who made a bad decision. And now… you’ll be reminded of what happens when you disobey a vampire.”

The last thing I saw before the heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind me was the flicker of crimson eyes watching me with something colder than hatred.