Chapter 5

His fingers wrapped around her forearm like a viper snapping its jaws, and he pulled her closer to him as quickly as he could.

He mumbled, "I'm sorry," but his tone of voice was harsh.

"I beg you, please don't."

He hid his face from view for a little while. It's possible that she might have assumed he was praying if he hadn't been a vampire. She thought, with a wry sense of humor, that it was more likely that he was saying grace.

She took another look around the cage, searching for something that she could use as a weapon, but she couldn't find anything other than a dull lightbulb that hung from a knotted cable on the outside of the jail.

After that, he looked at her with those devilishly bloodshot eyes.

Again saying, "I'm sorry," he pulled her into his hug, pushed her shirt collar to the side, and pressed his head on her neck while he apologized.

When Gwen felt the painful prick of his fangs across her flesh, she shuddered. She was aware that continuing to struggle was pointless. Even though he was larger, stronger, and more dangerous than she was, her instinct for survival took over very fast. She tugged his hair and scraped his face, which made him uncomfortable. Bloody indentations were made by her nails on his pale cheeks. She dug her teeth into his arm and stomped her foot in an attempt to have the upper hand. All to no avail. It seemed like she was attempting to break through a solid wall with her fists.

She had become exhausted from her battles, and the loss of blood had caused her to become weak. She closed her eyes and waited for death. After that, a peculiar occurrence had place. As soon as she stopped trying to defend herself against him, the panic left her. As he drank from her, he experienced no pain; rather, he was overcome with a strangely sexual sensation of pleasure.

It was the final thought that she had before she lost consciousness and passed into nothingness.

Phil's eyes were drawn to the woman he was holding in his arms. She was very pretty. Her lashes were thick and long, and her hair, which was Indian straight and black, fell beyond her shoulders. Her hair was past her shoulders. Her face was pasty now, but before he drank from her, her cheeks had been pink and her skin had been the color of a pale copper. Her complexion was now pasty. Her irises had a rich golden color with a warm undertone. One thing she had been accurate about, though, was that he did not enjoy the flavor of her blood. It was robust and astringent. If he hadn't been in such desperate need of sustenance, he probably would have spat it out after the first gulp. If it hadn't been for the bitter aftertaste, he probably would have emptied her dry; as it was, he simply took enough to satisfy his desire for the time being.

She was placed gently on the ground by him, and he seemed weirdly reluctant to let go of her.

While he was standing, he walked the length of the little cell, beginning at one end and ending at the other. Three hundred and sixty of those years had been spent by him as a vampire. When he looked back through the years, all he could think about was how much time had been wasted. Although he had circumnavigated the globe numerous times and witnessed the birth and fall of nations as well as kings, his list of accomplishments was surprisingly short. Nothing. Emilia had bestowed upon him the gift of a long life, but at the expense of the opportunity to establish a house and a family of his own. He was not bound to anyone, and he led the life of a vagrant, always moving from one place to another, floating through the generations, and leaving no trace of his passing.

Naturally, he hadn't had much in the way of motivation. In the beginning, hunger was more important than any other wish or requirement that I had. He had given in to all of his whims and desires for a while. He had taken what he desired without regard for the impact it would have on other people. He was not especially pleased with his actions during that time period, but the fact that he was a vampire had placed him beyond the reach of the law. Clothes and conveyances, steeds and abodes, houses, riches, wine, and beautiful ladies. He had used his paranormal power to kidnap all of them, but he hated Emelia for it. She had taken far more than that from him during their relationship. Didn't he deserve to get even?

After some time, he became exhausted from living such a life. Without even realizing it, he had amassed a respectable sum of money, which had allowed him to purchase sanctuaries in London and Paris, as well as in Madrid and Portugal.

After that, he traveled to the continents of the New World. And found themselves here, in what was essentially a jail cell for all intents and purposes. Taking into account how he had lived his life up until that point, it was possible that he belonged there.

He expletives under his breath as he attempts to shake off his gloomy thoughts.

He continued to pace back and forth without becoming fatigued until he became aware of the sun beginning to rise, at which point he laid down on the floor, closed his eyes, and stretched out.

When he was younger, he used to fear the start of each new day and detested the night because it made him feel like he was sinking into nothingness. However, that was before Raquel had him in her clutches. When he was younger, he used to be afraid of the night, but now he welcomed it as his lone refuge from the harshness of life.

Raquel frowned as she looked inside the cell from the outside and saw the inmates sleeping on the floor. She stood outside the cell. It appeared as though the vampire was attempting to shield the young woman by wrapping one arm over her waist with the other.

The young lady had been in this location for the previous two days and nights. Raquel gently tapped her fingers across her mouth in a playful manner. Since Phil had not eaten in such a long period, she had assumed that she would have found the female dead by this point.

Raquel gave the cup she was holding a quick glance. She only bled the vampire during the daytime on a very seldom basis, primarily due to the fact that he was imprisoned in his sleep and was therefore impervious to the humiliation and suffering. Where exactly was the entertainment in that? On the other hand, she had just been given an urgent order by an old acquaintance.

She gave the cell a wave of her hand, and it unlocked, and she stepped inside, the rustling of her skirts echoing off the cement. She never once went into the cell when it was nighttime. Regardless of whether or not he was weak or restrained, he was still a vampire. To underestimate him would require the wisdom of a fool. And she was not a dummy by any means.

It was simple to identify a place to bleed him due to the fact that he wore only enough clothing to cover his loins. She made a swift incision in his thigh while chanting softly as she worked. After the cut was made, dark red blood began to flow into the goblet.

When the goblet was finished being filled, she stood. It was not necessary to apply a bandage on the wound. All but the most severe wounds were easily healed by a vampire's supernatural ability to regenerate. Even in his debilitated condition, the cut that was in his thigh was already little more than a faint pink line. Even his condition was worsening. Before she emerged from the cellar, it would no longer be there.

She didn't notice the female was awake and watching her until she started making her way toward the door, at which point she had a shocked expression on her face.

Raquel interrupted the girl before she could say anything and added, "Do not bother to ask for your freedom." "You will never, ever see daylight again."

After saying that, Raquel exited the holding cell, made sure the door was secured behind her, and then departed the basement.

Gwen could not take her eyes off the blonde woman who had just nonchalantly slashed open the vampire's leg and drained his blood as she walked away. In what manner did she utilize it? There's no way she could have consumed that. Gwen felt sick just thinking about it. Maybe she employed it in the process of performing spells.

Gwen cast a cursory look towards the vampire. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pinning her in place and preventing her from moving. Asleep, he didn't look so terrifying. His looks were powerful and masculine, and some people could even consider him to be attractive. Because he had taken blood from her, his cheeks, which had been so pale when she had first met him, had a tinge of color this morning. There was no doubt that this was due to the fact that he had taken blood from her. She was able to observe that the cut on his thigh had completely healed, with no sign of a scar being there.

Before that moment, she had no experience with vampires. She was aware of their existence and had even read about them, but she did not really believe that they did. Gwen reached her hand up to her neck at that moment. She had gained fresh knowledge since then.

Her conviction that the woman with the fair hair was actually a witch, and more specifically a black witch, was almost as unsettling as the discovery that vampires did, in fact, exist. Black witches, in contrast to white witches, were malevolent creatures that derived their power from the torment and anxiety of human people.

To free herself from the grasp of the vampire's arm and make her escape, it needed a lot of effort. As she stood, she observed the dark brown spots that had been left on the cement. She grimaced as she realized it was dried blood. Would the blood that she had spent her life producing be the next thing to stain the floor?

Gwen smoothed down her clothes and ran a hand through her hair before continuing. She was suffering from both hunger and thirst. And considerably more terrified than she was willing to acknowledge.

Because she had nothing to keep her busy, the hours that were ahead of her appeared to go on forever. She fell asleep, woke up, and fell asleep once more, her nightmares replete with eyes that glowed as crimson as hellfire in the dimly lit cell.

The next time she woke up, those eyes, which were quiet and gray at this point, were staring at her.

Phil straightened his back and sat up, bracing himself against the wall. When he caught a whiff of Raquel, it caused him to grimace. "She was around here?"

"Who is that witch?"

"Are you aware of who she is?"

Gwen nodded. "While you were sleeping, she cut you and bled you."

"This is something she does every so often."

Gwen eventually got to her feet and moved to the opposite end of the holding cage. "For what purpose does she use it?"

"She drinks it. It maintains her youthful appearance and vitality.

“Really? Wouldn't it be easier for her to merely conjure up an illusion of some kind to achieve the same result? Consuming blood would be a lot less difficult and a whole lot less revolting if we did that.

"An illusion is something that can only be seen from the outside. My blood not only helps her maintain a youthful appearance, but it also provides her with the inner fortitude and vigour of a young person.

“Ah.”

“Yeah. And everything she doesn't use herself, she sells to other people, saying that it has miraculous healing abilities.

"Does it?"

"I'm not sure if it works for other people. It seems to be working well for her."

Gwen furrowed her brow as she was reminded by the loud growling coming from her stomach that she hadn't eaten in days. "I don't suppose she's going to give me anything to eat, is she?"

It's really unlikely. She has never troubled herself to provide food for any of the others.

"How long have the others been...?" She forced the bile that was rising in her throat back down her throat. How long did they continue to work?

"A few days, possibly a week, depending on how often the witch steals my blood and how much she takes," he said. "It all depends on how much she takes."

Gwen began rubbing her hands up and down her arms as she experienced an abrupt onset of chills throughout her body. A couple of days more, maybe even a week.

Phil murmured, "I'm sorry," as he made his apology.

"You are not to blame for this."

He regarded her with a frown.

She waved her hand around in an ambiguous manner. "You're a vampire. You're just acting in the way that comes naturally to you."

After gazing at her for a short while, he eventually broke into a grin. Gwene Marie Zebedee, I must say that you are a very peculiar woman.

"How do you know my name?"

He responded, "I'm a vampire," as if that clarified everything. "I'm a vampire,"

"The majority of people refer to me as Gwen."

"Is that so? I believe that Gwene is more to my liking."

Then she gave a shrug. What she was called by him didn't seem to make much of a difference. "Do you have a name?"

The name "Phil Marty."

"How long have you been a vampire?" "Have you been a vampire for very long?"

A couple of centuries at the most. How did you find yourself in this position? She was different from any of the other women the witch had brought before him in any way. The rest of them had been completely helpless, and they had been living in abject poverty. The majority were females who would not be missed at all. She hailed from a different social class based on this girl's look, which included well-kept hair and nails as well as clothing from designer brands. Someone, somewhere, would be searching for her, but they would never locate her, whether she was still alive or had passed away.

"A good friend of mine and I went out to a club last night. I assume someone must have drugged me." The memory made her tremble violently. "When I came to, I found myself in this location." Now she was shaking with cold. She brought her knees to her chest by bringing her arms around them and bringing them to her chest. "Are you going to eat me tonight?" "Are you going to consume me?"

"It depends."

The question is "On what?"

"On you." His eyes traveled all over her, pausing to take in the curve of her lips and the fullness of her breasts that were hidden by the white silk shirt. "If you'll just kiss me once, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night," she said.

"A kiss?" Was he kidding? How could he even consider making a pass at her with his lips right now?

Phil nodded. It had been a very long time since he'd been in a relationship with a lady. He had the ability to exert his will over those that the witch had brought him. He had the ability to coerce them into submission. He was not interested in either of the possibilities. None of the women had done so either. But this one... he could not place his finger on what it was about her that piqued his interest more than anything else. "So, what do you say?"

She kept a wary eye on him. "How do I know that you'll stop with a kiss?"

He shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Do you have faith in a ravenous vampire? You're kidding, right?

"Is that an answer of no?"

“Hmm.” He was a very attractive young man. After getting himself cleaned up and having a good meal, he was probably devastating. She said, "One kiss," as she inched her way closer to him. "Not a tongue."