2. (JO POV)

(JO POV)

The uniforms were another blow, a glaring reminder of how we'd been stripped bare of our identities. Plain black shirts and white sweatpants were utterly featureless, but I noticed how the female shirts clung to us, revealing all our curves. Slipping into that costume was like peeling away layers of myself, leaving whatever scraps of me I thought I knew scattered on the floor behind me.

We were marched back to the vampire bitch's lair aka office. She revealed herself as Camilla, the mastermind behind this twisted institution. She was the vampire who conjured up this nightmare of an academy and still tightly grips the reins to this day. She graciously enlightened us "criminal wards" on the delightful options available to us in their esteemed academy of bloodsucking etiquette and human subjugation. It's so funny how they are now in charge of fixing us when they started out believing criminal enterprise was the way to go. 

It's funny how things switch like that. 

'Options' my ass. Some of the younger vamps, those bitten before they hit the big 21, show up here looking for something akin to a normal relationship with a human, and vice versa for humans eager to cozy up to a vampire. It's like some twisted dating service for the undead and their willing victims. 

Apparently, any vamp turned pre-21 must do a stint at the Camilla Academy if they fancy interacting with humans for more than just a midnight snack. 

Wow, refined predators that have standards. Who'd have guessed? 

But for humans who've stepped out of line and found ourselves dumped here as "criminal wards," choices are a bit more...limited. There's the vampire's version of a pet...slaves, basically. They are walking, talking blood sacks for them to boss around, torture, and play sick games of cat and mouse with. 

Because, you know, pretending to track down and corner us like we're part of some grotesque wildlife show is their idea of a good time. They actually 'hunt' us within controlled environments for kicks.

Humanity, am I right?

It's not a shocker. Vampires revel in dishing out pain. Something the early mobsters made pretty clear. School tried to drill into our heads that it's all because vampires are natural-born predators. The whole "avoid trouble or become vampire chow" spiel they hammered into us was laughable, you know... until it wasn't.

Then there are those vampires who missed out on the joys of parenting and decided they wanted an adult baby to fill that void. Because turning anyone under 17 into a vampire is now considered bad form.

 There's a long history of eternally prepubescent vampires from the good old days, but nowadays, turning a kid into a vampire is a big no-no. It is one of the few hard and fast rules vampires must follow or face severe consequences. The world has enough millennia-old toddlers as it is. So, what's their workaround? Forcing adults into playing pretend.

For those deemed too unruly or unattractive to be someone's pet or plaything, we get the illustrious role of a 'daily donor.' Stuck in a cell, awaiting our turn to be dinner for any master or support staff without a current playmate.

Healing from those bites? Only if you're lucky enough to be chosen by one of the less sadistic bloodsuckers. As if that exists.

So yeah, fuck this place and their glorified menu of "options."

When the bomb dropped we were to be trotted out at dinner, like pieces of meat up for auction in the main hall, my stomach turned. The idea of parading in front of those bloodsuckers, up for grabs, sparked the rebellion in my mind.

They managed to force me to the dining hall's door before I dug in my heels, my entire being screaming fuck this bullshit. My vampire escorts, done playing nice, met my defiance with ease. One shove meant to force me into the dining hall sent me sprawling, my head slamming into a step inside the door. Pain shot through me, the world going fuzzy as my thoughts started to swim with my eyes. 

Next thing I knew, I was slung over some vamp's shoulder, carted off like a broken toy to the infirmary. There were no soft touches, no comforting words, just the cold efficiency of a problem being relocated. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I couldn't help but wonder if this was my new normal. Fighting, falling, and being pieced back together, not out of care but a necessity. 

Couldn't be an unhealthy blood bag after all. 

Sprawled on the nurse's cot, the throbbing in my head was in sync with my rapidly beating heart. I barely listened to June, the human nurse, trying to lay down the law. "You've got to chill out. This isn't the place for your kind of theatrics," she attempted, her voice softer than anything I'd expected in this hellhole.

"Fuck that," I shot back, not in the mood for a lecture. Specifically not from a human who is willingly associated with these bloodsuckers.

Her sigh was loaded, a mix of frustration and something like pity. "Fine. Just stay put till dinner's over, then you can head to your dorm for the night," she said, clearly done with the conversation.

I was just getting somewhat comfortable when, judging by June's reaction, an apparent celebrity entered the room. Sir Dane, prince of the night or whatever, waltzed in looking like a walking, talking GQ cover... carrying a grown-ass adult girl wearing a onesie and sucking on a pacifier. The sight was so bizarre and out of place that it was almost laughable. "June, she is acting up again. She put a pea up her nose, so I will leave her with you until Deirk returns, okay? I don't have the patience for it tonight." 

June snapped to attention, her demeanor flipping at the sound of his voice. "Oh my, Prince, I... I wasn't expecting you," she stuttered, dipping into a curtsy that looked as awkward as it felt to watch.

"Cut that out, June," he waved his hand, brushing off the formality. "I told you I did not want that here." 

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," she fumbled, fear and respect clashing like he was about to eat her or something.

 Like she wanted him to eat her... or something. 

Taking a page straight out of their early mafia playbook, these vampires never missed a beat when it came to dressing to the nines, and this one was no exception. 

Dressed to kill, quite literally, his dark gray suit was a perfect fit, screaming designer from every stitch. It clung to him in all the right places, but he kept it casual with a few top buttons undone, showcasing a tangled array of necklaces that probably meant something in the vampire world.

Then there was the girl clinging to his side, toying with his dark blue tie like it was her personal plaything. The scene was almost comical. He tried to reclaim his tie from her grip, creating a brief struggle for dominance before she relented. With a smirk, he finally got his tie back, draping it around his neck without care to actually tie it. It was all for show, a display of carefree power. 

The whole thing would've been laughable if it weren't so eerily precise, a dance they both knew too well. These bloodsuckers and their need to always look the part, even when playing the night's most dangerous predator, never ceased to amaze me.

 "Great, a royal visit complete with an adult baby. Just what I needed... I mean, however did I get so lucky?" I remarked sarcastically. 

That got his attention. His eyes flipped to that terrifying black with red veins before landing on me.

June hurried to smooth things over. "She's just upset, Sir Dane. She missed her grand entrance at dinner and banged up her head instead. Didn't even get a chance to meet the Masters."

He moved closer, the anger from before replaced by something resembling concern, though I wasn't buying it based on the veins dancing across his face. "Let's have a look," he said, ignoring my attempts to wave him off. He gripped my chin between his fingers, halting my protests as he analyzed the wound. 

"Why hasn't she been treated yet?" he turned to June, who cowered away from the threat still painted black in his eyes.

"She's not claimed, so not my place at this time, Sire..." June's voice trailed off, a shitty excuse if there ever was one. To my surprise, this vampire prince blonde hottie with creepy black eyes seemed to feel the exact same way. 

 "Yeah... Bullshit." He didn't hesitate, extending his fangs with a sharp click, then biting into his finger and pressing the blood to my wound. The touch was bizarrely gentle despite the black eyes and pulsating veins inches from mine.

 As his blood worked its magic, the pain faded, and the cut sealed up, leaving no trace. I was totally dumbfounded. Here I was, the rebel girl who'd sworn off vampires, being healed yet again by another one. This time, I was forced into a moment of unexpected vulnerability with a beautiful blonde... vampire prince? 

Dane's decision, though seemingly noble or maybe just a fuck-you to the academy's constrictions, left my mind dancing through a mess of conflicting emotions. Gratitude gnawed at the boundaries of my defiance, but it was still tangled up with a deep-rooted distrust for his kind. It was a disarray of emotions I wasn't ready to sift through.

I was speechless, a rarity for me. But then he turned back to June, business as usual. "I'll be taking my meal in my room tonight. Add her to the list, will you? Is she good to go?"

June's reply came too quickly, too eager to please. "Yes, sir, she's all patched up and clear to leave, thanks to you, at least on my end. She hasn't been introduced yet, so...." she trailed off before continuing, "But no worries, I'll handle everything. Make sure they... Understand." 

As he stepped back, reality bit harder as I watched his eyes return to the normal mesmorizing blue. I was in their world, tangled up in a web I didn't understand, with rules I despised. And Dane, this random vampire prince with an apparent talent for rule-breaking without facing ramifications...

Was pulling at all my senses, like a moth to a flame.