Pillowy softness cradles my head, driving away the last vestiges of pain. A slight throb pounds away behind my eyelids, but I’ll take uncomfortable awareness to the nightmares still swirling inside my head like an unholy residue coating my skull. Groaning, I lift my arm up, letting it rest over my closed eyes as I dissect everything that’s still churning.
I’ve never claimed to be a psychiatrist, far from its. But, it doesn’t take a professional to know my fear of cruise ships, fueled by more alcohol than I probably should’ve had, sent me visions of my inner terrors as a nightmare from hell. What I’m still struggling with is why in the hell were there vampires?
To my knowledge, that’s never been a thing to push my buttons. Hell, even when vampires had been a romance craze, I was still stuck on the burly alpha men and the delicious things they could do to a woman. A bloodsucker never featured in my spank bank once. And Lizzy? Why would she be there?
Perhaps some deep-seated fear of her running off with that dungeon master niggled its way in there. It’s the only rational explanation. I turn to my side with another groan, determined to force myself back asleep. Perhaps this time, the dreams will be much more erotic and less terror-inducing.
Goosebumps explode over my skin as Lizzy’s face pops into my mind, blood oozing down her neck. The moment I draw my knee up to get more comfortable, I freeze. Terror slams into me as I test my leg once more, confirming that a heavy object encircles it.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” The voice is a harsh rasp in the darkness. Familiar in some ways but foreign in others. The sound trips through my skull like nails raking across my brain.
The primal part of me, the one that insists I stay safe, wants to flee. The other part of me wants to melt under the heat of the commanding tone. It sounds so right, so perfect.
Turning my head back to the side, I force my eyes open, desperate to see who’s with me. It’s so like those horror movies where everything moves in slow motion yet too fast at the same time. The room is dim, and I can barely make out the shape of a man sitting against the wall opposite of me. Again, there’s something so familiar about him.
“Jackson?” Hysteria tinges my voice as I shift my foot about, trying to confirm for my brain that I’m well and truly trapped without setting him off again. What happened to him? To us?
“I said,” he growls, rising to his full height. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” This time, I’m unable to resist the shudder as it wracks my body, driving my head towards my lap in an insane attempt to shield myself. I wrap my arms around my body in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does.
My gut plummets as he stalks closer, and in the dim light, I can make out the murderous glint in his eyes. He wears the face and skin of Jackson, but those eyes…those eyes signal my doom. This isn’t the man I played with just hours before. Or was it days? I have no concept of time.
Nothing in here tells me anything. Am I still on the ship? Is this a part that I hadn’t visited before? The worst part of it all is the incessant throbbing in my head that tells me none of this is real. It’s a cotton-like buzzing that pervades every recess.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m sure the moment I open them, I’ll be back in my bed - safe and sound. But it never happens. Each blink, each moment of black solitude, gives way to the ever-painful reminder that this is either real or I can’t wake up. Why can’t I wake up?
I’m not stupid. I know what pure, unadulterated hate and lust look like. I’ve watched enough stalker movies to know the signs. Jackson stalks me as if I’m his prey. Had we been in the main dungeon with everyone else, that would be fine, but here alone? I don’t feel anything but terror.
Perhaps that’s his game? Maybe this is just one more kink in his repertoire. Any moment now, a curtain will drop, or the wall will fade away, revealing an audience. If this truly is a kidnapping scene, then he’s doing a damn good job. I thought I’d want something like this, but the reality is a bit too much.
How did he even get me down here? Did he drug me? That crosses a line for sure. Sitting up on my elbows, I take several calming breaths before leveling him my best glare. “Good job, Jackson. You had your fun, but I want it to be over with. Sanctuary. I demand sanctuary.”
A soft chuckle skitters up my spine from a different part of the room. Again, my body tenses as I peer around. I can’t see anyone, but I know they’re there, lurking somewhere in the shadows.
“Jackson?” My voice is no longer strong. It’s thin and reedy, pathetic, really. “Please. Help me.”
“Oh, he wants to, Katrina,” the strange voice barks out. “The fact that you’re still here in one piece is a testament to how badly he wants to save you from your fate.”
I peer up once more at Jackson, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles bunch up and release. His fingers clench into fists, then he lets them go. Every line of his body is rigid.
“Jackson?”
“I wouldn’t worry about him right now. He’s doing a damn fine job of ignoring his natural urges to pounce on you and bleed you dry.”
“S-sanctuary?” I plead once more into the dimness. They said the ship was wired for that word. Someone should be here. Why is no one here? Spots dance before my eyes as my pulse races. Shallow breaths barely expand my chest before I’m once more exhaling and sucking in air.
Something is wrong. Very fucking wrong.
“Poor dear,” the voice confirms. “You still think you’re safe on that ship, don’t you? Well, know this, my little morsel; there is no sanctuary here. If you wish for clemency, then you better beg for it from me.”
The voice is much closer this time. The strange lilt to his voice trips about my brain until my mind can conjure up a face. That accent is so distinct that I’m not sure why I didn’t recognize him earlier. Fear has a way of confusing you, twisting your mind until all that’s left is the pounding of your heart and raspy, wheezing breaths of air.
Luka.
A jolt slams into me as his face comes into focus, my body twitching as memories flood my brain. I should have known from the moment I met him that he was dangerous. I should have listened to my gut. But no. I listened to my damned pussy instead. “Where’s Lizzy?” If I’m stuck in this awful place, what’s happening to her? Perhaps she got away?
“I wouldn’t worry about your friend right now. You have far more…dire…things to consider, namely, how you will get out of this predicament unscathed.”
Luka slides up behind me as if his body stepped right out of the shadows. He no longer speaks to me; instead, he goes to my ankle and works at the lock holding the shackle in place.
Once I’m free, he lifts me from the cot I’m on, and my hands scramble to clutch the sheet to my naked body. But it’s no use. He slides behind me, his cool hand easing up around my throat, holding me close. As hard as I try to fight inside, something deep within me responds to him.
It’s a part that feels alien, as if he’s controlling me somehow, but that’s not possible. None of this is possible. He tilts my head to the side and skims his lips up the smooth column of my neck, and once again, Lizzy pops into my brain. She sits there, blood flowing down her neck, her mouth opened in a shocked “O.”
No.
No. No. No.
Vampires aren’t real. This isn’t real.
“Oh, my pet, I can assure you, I’m just as real as you are,” he murmurs against the side of my head, stirring the tendrils of hair hanging down near my cheek. “You should be thanking me right now. I saved you from that sinking ship and brought you into my home.”
His tongue slides up the shell of my ear, sending an involuntary shiver up my spine. The boats. The water. The cold as it dug into me like any icy needle. All of it was real. No. I can’t let him turn my head like this. He drugged me. That’s all there is to it.
“Ahh, still fighting me, Kotenok. That’s perfectly fine. I do love it when you struggle.” Luka wraps his other arm about my waist, and I fly into a flurry of movements, each one meant to throw him off of me, but he doesn’t budge.
Nothing works. I twist and turn, grunting with the exertion. I hear his laughter, feel the chuckling breaths against my skin - cold, just like him. He’s like a statue, immovable, unbreakable. Sweat pours off of my body as we stay locked in this hellish embrace, but still, he doesn’t move.
“Have you tired yourself out yet? Trust me, I will always outlast you. You will never be a match for my strength.”
I despise the truth in his words. Fatigue settles into my limbs, and I feel weak like a child. Sagging against him, I look back up at Jackson. At no point does he make a move to help me. He just stands there, stoic, arms crossed, his eyes looking more feral and hungry than human.
Luka presses his fingers against the side of my head and tilts my neck to the side, baring the delicate skin to his gaze. His nose skims me even as his breath washes over me. Again, my body shudders as arousal gathers lower. This is insane. Thoughts of him biting me, tearing into me, race through my brain. I want this. Some sick, demented part of me wants this.
“You have had plenty of time, Jackson. Why have you not fed? Look at her veins, so plump, so full of life. She was gift-wrapped for you. Or do you no longer desire her?” With a yank of his hand, Luka thrusts me forward, forcing Jackson’s hungry gaze to take in my exposed body.
Jackson takes a step towards me, his movements jerky and halting, as if he’s fighting some internal battle I cannot see. Tears gather in my eyes as he gets closer. His lips pull back into a silent snarl, revealing a set of fangs. God. Oh, God. This can’t be happening.
As much as I want to believe they’re props, as much as I want to lie to myself and say that they’re just going overboard with the acting, I can’t. There’s something too uncanny about all of this for it to be a dream or even an act. Even if the fangs are fake, the pulsating rage coming off of Jackson is all too real.
I pull myself inward, making myself go still. If I continue to act like prey, then all it will do is drive their need to hunt. My dad’s voice echoes in my brain, telling me about playing dead. It didn’t always work, but it was damn well better than running.
Even though he’s released the chain around my ankle, it’s not like I will be going anywhere soon. Luka’s hands wrap around me in a vice grip, keeping me nearly immobile - worse than the chains. I have no other options, and I hate not having options. Going limp in Luka’s arms, I watch through hooded eyelids as Jackson approaches, his hands shaking as he reaches out for me.
Closing my eyes, I conjure images of my parents, of Lizzy, of people near and dear to me, close to my heart. If I’m going to die, I want it to be with their memories in my brain and not the inevitable hurt that’s about to happen. My body trembles despite me willing it to stay still, and I can’t stop the tears that roll down my face to drip onto Luka’s arm.
Jackson’s fingers dig into me as he pulls me away from Luka and into his arms. His touch is soft despite the anger shaking his frame. “Shhh, Katrina. Just breathe. I got you.”
But does he?
“Jackson, I grow tired of you acting like a petulant child. Either feed, or there will be consequences.”
“Like what? Killing me?” he spits back, venom lacing his tone. “Go ahead. Please. I welcome death. I would rather die at your hands than to live this godforsaken existence you’ve forced me into.”
“You would like that.” I can hear the sneer in Luka’s voice as his hands slide down my back. “I will not allow you to get away from me so easily. But I can certainly harm our little pet here. What do you say, Jackson? Will you feed from her? Or will I be forced to take my pound of flesh some other way?”
Jackson stills, his hands going rigid around me. Even in my own mind, I can’t fathom any course of action that would allow either of us to escape this unscathed. I’d rather this pain come from him than from Luka. At least Jackson seems to give a damn.
Reaching up, I slide my hand across his cheek, forcing his gaze to mine. The raw hurt shining through steals my breath, but I press on, needing to take some measure of control over this situation.
“Please, Jackson. Don’t let him hurt me. If you feeding from me….” I stumble over the words, still unable to understand the full magnitude. “If it keeps him happy, then do it. Please. Just don’t let him hurt me.”
“Yes, Jackson,” Luka chimes in. “Don’t allow me to hurt what you find so precious. Soon, she’ll be like us. Don’t you want to know what she tastes like before that happens?”
I watch, terrified as Jackson’s nostrils flare. The man I knew from the ship slowly disappears from in front of my eyes as he slides his palm around my throat, his eyes fluttering shut as he grazes my pulse with his thumb.
“Katrina. God help me, but I can’t resist you for long. This will hurt, but I will make it as easy on you as possible.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Luka interjects. “It’s fucking lunch, not foreplay. Bite the girl, or I’ll do far worse.” His hands grab my hips, yanking me back until I feel the hard steel of his erection against my ass. I groan, rocking back against him even as my mind demands I jerk away.
That’s what’s so crazy about all of this. The harder I resist, the more my body demands I give in. Insidious whispers claw at my skull, insisting I relax. It’s a mental tug of war, and the end result leaves me fatigued and shaky.
He knows this. I know he knows this. I can feel it in the smug, rigid stance as he holds me close to him. I don’t know why I can’t resist, but what’s scarier is knowing that no matter what, I’ll eventually have to give in.
Jackson stares at us, pain etched into his features. It mirrors my own, and I wonder if he’s facing the same battle I am…but that’s absurd.
“What’s the matter, Katrina,” my name drips off Luka’s tongue like honey. It’s far more erotic than it should be, and I shudder at the sound. “Don’t want me anymore? I rescued you, and this is how you greet me? With disdain? I expected more from you.”
Once more, memories of that night flood my brain. The ship’s sinking, Lizzy with blood dripping down her neck. Could it have all been real? I can’t let my brain believe it.
To do so would be to confirm my greatest fears. Not only would that make Luka a monster in the physical and visceral sense, but a monster of a supernatural nature as well.
Though it would make it easier to not fight him, I still can’t process what he seems to be implying. It’s impossible. Pure and simple. The voices beating at my head demand otherwise.
They sound like his voice, all venom, malice, and lust, swirling about like a thick fog.
“I thought you’d be down on your hands and knees begging me to make you into my image, but still, you fight. Ahhh. Simple human. You may keep your frail physicality for now. But someday soon, I will come to collect your soul, whether you’re ready or not.”
He lets me go, and I nearly fall to my knees. The pressure in my skull is so intense. It’s like thousands of needles jabbing at me. Internally, I know if I submitted, it would stop. It would all go away. But then what? What happens after I give the monster what he craves most?
Luka turns to me, pausing as he walks away, and smirks, answering my inner thoughts. “You get your chance at a fucked up ever after. Not that I really care if that appeals to you. You will be under me, under us, soon enough. Whether you enjoy it or not, that is entirely your choice.”
As if this is a film, Luka bows and disappears into the shadows. If my stomach wasn’t still clenched and my body on the verge of heaving, I’d think I dreamt all this again. Deep down, I know it’s all too real.
Once I take a moment to just breathe, I look back at Jackson. He’s so pale, so thin, much thinner than I remember him being. Again, that icy fear drips down my spine until my back almost bows up against it.
“Tell me. Now. What the fuck is wrong with you? Where are we?”
