Mikhail showed up exactly seven minutes early on Thursday night. Sophie couldn’t deny that she’d been watching the clock nervously ever since returning home from her shift. It could have been earlier than seven minutes, though, as she hadn’t actually let him into her house. He was just suddenly there.

She shrieked when he appeared behind her in her bathroom, only knowing he was there because of the mirror. Otherwise, he could have stood there behind her for a good long while and she wouldn’t have noticed.

The bastard chuckled in amusement at her fear, showing a good deal of sharp fang.

It had taken what ended up being nearly an hour of pep talking from Ashley to prepare her for what she was going to attempt to do that night, should the opportunity arise. Even though it was only their third meeting, Sophie couldn’t help but feel—from what Ashley had told her—that she was already on borrowed time. At any given moment he could decide he had no use for her and kill her. There wouldn’t be anything she could do about it at this point.

And still, despite all the pep talking and encouraging words, she could only stand there, frozen, as he pulled her hair away from her still-bruised neck. His eyes met hers through the mirror.

Her heartbeat sped up as his amused look faded into a cold, menacing scowl as he looked at her through their reflections. Sophie decided that, having never seen him look so particularly irritated before, this was her least favorite expression from what she’d seen of him so far.

When he spoke, his words were frighteningly toneless. “You’ve been neglecting yourself.”

There was a clear note of disapproval in his words and Sophie suddenly found herself more terrified of him than usual. Did this mean she’d lost her usefulness to him? Her heart rate spiked. She hadn’t been eating or sleeping well, but could she really be blamed for that?

“N-no, I haven’t,” she argued fearfully.

One clawed hand lifted around her head to drag its tip underneath her eyelid across the darkened skin tone of the bags beneath her eyes.

“You haven’t been sleeping… ”

His voice was terrifyingly neutral as he outlined the evidence of her recent inability to rest.

The claw then trailed down to her cheek, pressing deeply into her skin as it continued its path downwards. It was painful, but she was more frightened by how his eyes narrowed at the stark contrast between his black nail and her pale, slightly gaunt cheeks.

“… and you haven’t been eating.” Maintaining eye contact through the mirror, he leaned in, almost resting his chin on her shoulder as he murmured into her ear, “Now, I don’t think there will be enough of your delicious blood to satisfy me, hm? And that’s a problem.”

The way he spoke had her trembling. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. Part of her hated how weak she was in front of him, but a lot of the bravado and anger she had felt toward him before had withered and died under the harsh realization that she really wasn’t all that special and how easy it would be for him to kill her if she lost her usefulness.

Sophie realized suddenly that, if she survived this meeting, she would have to make certain to take better care of herself. If this was him even slightly disapproving of her actions, then she never wanted his disapproval directed at her again.

Suddenly, the tense atmosphere in the room seemed to fizzle away and a familiar, smug smirk was on his face again. “Luckily for you, I’ve fed today. However, you need to stay nourished. Come.”

He was suddenly walking out of her bathroom. Following slowly because her knees were weak and wobbly from the rush of adrenaline and subsequent relief that he wasn’t going to kill her just yet, Sophie went back into her bedroom. Mikhail had taken the liberty of opening the door to her walk-in closet and was apparently perusing her clothing.

She could only stand there, dumbfounded, as he leafed through several dresses, one after the other. “Too many colors,” he commented casually as he inspected dress after dress fleetingly. “You’ll need a new wardrobe.”

She felt a combination of both fear and relief from his words. If he wanted her to buy a new wardrobe, it could mean that he wasn’t going to kill her anytime soon, but if that was true it also meant that he wanted her in his grasp for that period of time. It was a double-edged sword, as Ashley had aptly put it.

Soon, he came across a short, lacy black dress that could barely be counted as an article of clothing. Sophie remembered with vague horror that she had gotten it at a lingerie store when Leah had insisted she buy something. It had been on a fluke shopping trip for the brunette’s second date with her now-boyfriend Max, and the dress—boasting a black corset as the top and only about a foot and a half of lacy black material for the bottom that really seemed like more of an unsatisfied designer’s afterthought than anything—had been the most conservative thing she could find in the store.

Fingering the silky material for a moment, he pulled it out by the hanger and tossed it on her bed.

“Wear that.”

Then he turned around, facing her fully and watching her closely, and waited.

Sophie glanced at the dress that she had never worn in her life and had never intended to. She’d always wanted to throw it out, but then she would remember the price tag and become unwilling to get rid of such an expensive purchase. Now she was trying to process that he was actually going to make her wear it.

“Why?” she choked out.

He eyed her clothing skeptically—tight jeans, this time, to dissuade him from taking them off and a loose, baggy shirt—and said, “Where we’re going, you’ll be underdressed.”

She swallowed with great difficulty, realizing that he meant to make her wear the dress in public. She couldn’t help herself—her anger overcame her fear, perhaps unwisely. “And where would we be going that would require me to look like a slut?”

A scarce moment later, Sophie blanched in shock at her unintended words, but he only laughed darkly. It was fortunate that her anger only seemed to amuse him. Still, it would probably be best to try to get a better grip on her emotions, especially if she was going to be covertly grilling him for information that would at a later date be used against him.

“You’ll see,” he replied, and his tone was almost playful. However, the narrowing of his eyes didn’t speak of true lenience. “Put it on, or I’ll take you there naked.”

Head whirling and heart beating quickly at the implied threat, Sophie took a shaky step towards the dress, then another. Gripping it tightly, she clutched it to her chest, giving him a clear signal for him to turn around.

He didn’t seem to catch on. It was a preferable belief to the other option—which was that he wanted her to undress in front of him.

“I’m waiting.”

Not knowing if she was signing her death warrant but unwilling to budge on the matter, she said politely but pointedly, “Please turn around then.”

He ignored her. “You have thirty seconds before I strip you and you accompany me without clothing.”

All color drained from her face. He would make good on his threat; she could see it in his eyes. Swallowing down her pride was difficult, but she turned around so that her back faced him and quickly took off her shirt, wanting to keep the amount of time that she was bare to a minimum.

“It’s nothing I won’t see eventually,” he taunted as a response to her attempt to preserve her modesty. Sophie’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of fury and shame all at once, but instead of snapping at him or starting to cry like she was inclined to, she simply hurried to change as quickly as possible.

As she stepped out of her jeans and grabbed for the skimpy dress, she tried her best to focus on her anger at the situation instead of letting her mind wander to the implication that he intended to continue using her body in other, more humiliating ways. With the distraction of plotting and planning with Ashley lately she had been able to stop her mind from straying to Tuesday night’s sexual assault, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t haunt her if she gave it the chance.

As she laced the corset to fit her snugly enough to stay up but loosely enough that her breasts wouldn’t be pushed up temptingly, she hardened her resolve to figure out a way to eliminate Mikhail once and for all. She just had to focus on surviving at this point and simultaneously gather as much information as she could.

Finally turning around, she nodded, letting him know wordlessly that she was ready. She noticed that while she’d been changing he’d picked out a pair of black heels for her to wear and given that they were one of her favorite pairs of shoes, she put them on with much less of a fuss. Before she knew it, she had locked her door behind her and he was leading her towards downtown Canton.

 

She looked simply delectable in that short little dress.

The corset accentuated her slim waist and flared out her hips, the lower half of the dress revealing the creamy skin of her legs. Although she’d left the upper portion loose in order to preserve what little modesty she had in the scanty piece of clothing, the round tops of her breasts peeking out from the lace trim made him want to shove her up against a wall and ravish her.

He decided that although he did not like the longing stares she was attracting, if she was with him and it was clear she was his, he could stand it. Flaunting his trophy to those who would never touch her body, never taste her blood, wasn’t actually all that distasteful. Possessively, he slipped his arm through hers and pulled her against him as they walked, ignoring the rigidity of her body at the unwanted contact.

Having clearly claimed her for all those watching, he felt a certain triumph as the eyes from passersby lingered momentarily and then fell away.

Mikhail was perfectly fine to walk in silence and he was glad that she was too, although his was borne from enjoying the night sky while hers from discomfort and fear. He truly had been somewhat angered by her lack of care for herself, given that he’d longed for a taste of her blood after his previous meal being so disappointing, but it wasn’t entirely unfavorable to take her out for a nightly stroll and dinner. Yes, of course there were much more satisfying activities to be doing, but at the same time it was almost a novel experience to walk around with a very desirable someone who belonged to him on his arm. He found that the sensation wasn’t terribly objectionable.

Upon reaching the center of the city, not too far of a walk from where she lived, he headed in the direction of a restaurant that suited his taste for her that night. It was a rather nice place, but they would stand out poorly in the upper-class crowd. Not so much him as she, however, given that he had dressed her rather inappropriately for his own enjoyment. It was no matter because the bistro he had chosen was perfect for Sophie’s nutritional needs.

Because of the young woman’s wise decision to stay silent, it was an easy matter getting a table despite the skeptical, judgmental stares Sophie’s outfit attracted. After walking up to the hostess standing at the front, they were seated quickly. The blonde’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor, pointedly ignoring all looks aimed towards her.

He had been to quite a few places in Canton so far, but so far Shimon’s Bistro was one of the most austere establishments he’d come across. The floor was a cobalt blue carpet and the lower half of the walls consisted of polished mahogany wood and the upper portion painted stark white. All the furniture was polished to shine like stars and dimly lit chandeliers hung from the ceilings. Everything was sharp edges and shiny polish.

They were brought over to a booth in the far back corner of the restaurant that he had requested, given that he wanted to attract as little attention as possible. The hostess then disappeared, promising the short arrival of their waiter and leaving two menus.

The food was incredibly overpriced, but after quickly scanning the menu he found several suitable courses that would replenish her glorious blood. He would certainly be seeing her again Friday evening because he would have to deny himself tonight. He could always make up for it tomorrow.

After putting down the menu, he saw her eyes flitting over a menu of her own. He raised an amused eyebrow as her eyes shifted back and forth from two options, hesitating as she clearly tried to choose which one she wanted.

“I certainly hope you aren’t under the impression I took you here for the enjoyment of the experience,” he said just as she seemed to come to a decision. Her large, expressive grey eyes shot up to meet his, and he was disgruntled by the impression that she had forgotten he was there.

She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, closed it, and then opened it again to finally speak. “Why did you take me here? Better yet, why are you doing this at all?”

“Curious?” he mocked. Instead of taking the bait, she nodded seriously.

Mikhail leaned back in the booth, eyes aimed at the ceiling thoughtfully. The question was certainly warranted given the situation and it shouldn’t have surprised him that she was curious as to why he was doing these things to her, but other than her delicious blood and his attraction to her body, he didn’t have any concrete ideas as to what he really wanted from her. The reasons were both solid enough to warrant his behavior—especially his desire for her blood—but he couldn’t help but feel that maybe there was just a little something more to the issue of keeping Sophie Hart alive than what immediately came to mind. However, until he came to the conclusion as to what that something more was, the idea was something that would stay locked away in his mind.

“Your blood is exquisite,” he said at length. She blinked, obviously not comprehending. Of course she wouldn’t understand—she wasn’t a vampire. “Particularly exquisite.” He cocked an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him. She immediately backed down, her posture losing its aggressiveness. “And your body is pleasing, as well.”

This brought a flush of shame to her cheeks and she averted her eyes to look out the window, where people were milling about, talking and laughing carelessly. He could see the longing for their carefree attitudes in her eyes but said nothing.

Eventually she turned back to him. “Do you do this to people… often?” Her cheeks were still bright red.

Even though he knew what she was talking about, he was interested to find out what she defined ‘this’ as. “Do what to people often?”

The color in her cheeks flared, but she spoke despite her embarrassment. “Make them… slaves. For their blood… and-and stuff.” She couldn’t have turned any redder if she tried.

His eyebrows raised. He hadn’t thought to look at it from that perspective, but he supposed in some regards she could be considered a slave. However, Mikhail didn’t find the thought of her calling herself a slave pleasing.

“You’re not a slave,” he corrected smoothly, but offered no reasoning as to why she wasn’t one. “And you won’t refer to yourself as one.”

There was a hint of disappointment in her eyes and she tried again. “But… have you had others like me?”

His brow furrowed suspiciously and she stiffened, looking like a child who’d been caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “Why so nosy?”

“I-I just w-wanted to know if I was… ” Her stammering was irritating.

“If you were special?” he sneered, finishing her sentence for her.

“Part of a trend,” she rectified quickly, nearly interrupting him. “So I know how long… I have to live. If I’m going to live.”

“I suppose you do owe me your life,” he murmured musingly. It was clear from her expression that she certainly didn’t see things that way. He looked at her, a hard look on his face. “I don’t leave my food alive, so you do owe me your life. Therefore, you are mine for as long as you remain of use. After that… ”

He trailed off, shrugging.

“It depends on what I feel like doing with you.”

She wilted, leaning back into her seat and covering her face with her hands. There was no relief in her scent, although since he hadn’t promised to kill her once he was done with her there certainly should have been. Instead, there was only overwhelming despair. The smell wasn’t particularly pleasant.

He might have promised to kill her—if fact, he really should have—but the truth was that after their last encounter he felt reluctant to dispose of her right away. It wasn’t so much that she shouldn’t be killed as much as it was that he couldn’t really see himself wanting to kill her anymore. He wanted to keep her for a reason he couldn’t identify.

He was reminded then that this was just a vacation, one that had only a little over a month left, and that his sire wouldn’t take kindly to him bringing home a human. It stood to reason that he couldn’t simply leave her alive after he was gone, either, not with her knowledge of his kind.

Mikhail decided it was a matter he would give more thought to later. There were always options.

Just then, the waiter appeared to take their order. Not allowing Sophie to speak, he ordered her a large salad, a medium-rare steak with a side of steamed vegetables and roasted red potatoes. At the idea of eating a rare steak she looked like she was going to argue, but he shot her a look that promised retribution if she were to speak against him. For himself, he ordered a glass of expensive 1908 Merlot and nothing else. Human food would make for an interesting show, and not one he wanted to give.

If the waiter was curious as to why two unlikely people dressed like them were in such a fancy restaurant or how they were going to pay for such an expensive meal, he was wise enough to stay quiet. Reminding them of his name and telling them that their order would be out shortly, the waiter left without a fuss.

Mikhail propped his chin on his hand, leaning on the table. He never liked these kinds of restaurants because they were always so boring. However, the young woman in front of him was not boring and he decided that he wanted to know more about the human he had claimed as his own. It was a way to pass the time, anyway.

“You’re a twenty-two-year-old female in the 21^st century,” he commented nonchalantly. “What is it like?”

Sophie had been looking out the window with that same longing on her face, but at his question her eyes snapped back in his direction. It was clear she was startled by his sudden interest.

“Well, I guess… I mean, I don’t know? That’s like me asking what it’s like to be a however-old-you-are… er… ” She lowered voice almost inaudibly so that only he could hear it. “… vampire.”

“I believe it’s three-hundred and forty-seven in November, if I remember correctly,” he said with a smirk, enjoying the way she stiffened at the large number. “And it’s quite enjoyable. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. The world is my oyster.”

Swallowing with some difficulty, she asked, “Then… you were born in the 1600’s?”

“Something like that.” He cocked a brow, letting her know that he had no interest in talking about himself.

She caught the hint. “Well, I work at a café right now… ” the look on her face told him that she knew he knew that, but she went on anyways, “because I’m saving up for college. It’s so expensive now that you have to have serious funds if you want to stay out of debt.”

“Debt, hm? These days, aren’t parents supposed to help out with that kind of thing?”

She suddenly looked wary. “My father doesn’t support me anymore.” Her expression was hardened defensively. He was curious about that, particularly the way she only said father, but decided that it wasn’t important at the moment. Still, that brought up a more interesting question.

“So you’re all alone in the big, bad world?” he taunted with a toothy smirk. The way she went rigid told him that she had been hoping he wouldn’t make the connection.

“I have my friends,” she snapped, “and they’re better than any blood relative I could ever ask for.”

He chuckled, amused at her vehemence. Some good her friends were doing her now—they were only helping him keep her under his thumb. After a moment, he went on curiously. “And school. What will you study?”

“Given that I live that long?” Her voice spoke of irritation and apprehension in equal parts. “Theology.”

“Theology,” he repeated flatly. “Don’t you have any aspirations in life?”

She glowered at his insult. “I’ve always been interested in spirituality and religions and all that. They give the world meaning.”

Mikhail wondered then if she understood that they were carrying on a normal conversation much like two people on a first date would. From the annoyed look on her face and the way she was glaring at him, fear only like an afterthought in her scent, he found it safe to assume she hadn’t come to that realization yet.

However, he had and he found he didn’t mind it all that much even though that didn’t make much sense. It was strange, thinking of this outing as a date, but not wholly unpalatable. And even though she was only not terrified of him at the moment because he was acting somewhat normal—and also completely out of character—it wasn’t so bad, this lack of fear. It couldn’t go on forever, of course, because he much preferred being feared to being respected or admired, but while this comfortable conversation lasted he decided he would enjoy it for what little it was worth.

It was quiet for a moment, but before he let her catch up to his thought process and realize they were acting like they were on a date, he continued the conversation. “I can tell you as someone who will live longer than you could ever comprehend, religion is all a joke.”

She frowned at him. “Even if it is,” she replied, “humans are meaning-givers. If we don’t keep believing in something, we’ll lose hope. It’s like the thought of an afterlife. There’s no proof, but it gives us comfort to think that there’s something that comes after all the suffering and pain in the world. That’s basically what religion gives us—hope and meaning.”

He mused on that silently. It was an interesting notion; he’d never given the idea much thought before. He supposed for short-lived humans, the thought of something better after death could be comforting. As a human—a terrible time he didn’t make an effort to recall very often—he’d only sought a way to find power and transcend the mortal suffering of the world. Upon meeting his sire and having his wish granted, going from the victim to the victimizer, he’d found no need for an afterlife or a religion. He owned this world and there was no need to believe in anything other than himself or a want to think there was something more after he died. Because he had the here and now. He never had to die.

“An interesting thought, Sophie dear,” he purred. She stiffened uncomfortably when he said her name and he didn’t doubt that she disliked hearing him refer to her so familiarly. At the same time, way her name rolled of his tongue was almost sensual to him. He decided he liked it. “But even with all that said and done, how are you to make a living with such a useless degree?”

She huffed. “I’ll find a way. There are plenty of things I can do. It doesn’t matter how much money I make as long as I’m… happy… .”

It seemed the despair of her situation had suddenly hit her full force once more and she clammed up. Chances were that none of her dreams of going to college for theology of all things or making a happy, if not meager living, were going to ever come true. She couldn’t do such things if he were present in her life and quite honestly, he found he had no intention of leaving her until he had to.

There wasn’t much of a lull in conversation before the food arrived. The meal was consumed in silence, with only a stern command to eat all her food to remind her why they were truly at this restaurant. The wine was decent as far as he was concerned. It looked enough like blood to give him the impression of having fed even if he wasn’t all that hungry in the first place.

She ate almost everything he’d given her—she finished the salad and the vegetables and potatoes, but since she was unused to such rare meat she had a little harder time eating the steak. Still, she managed to force most of it down and that was all he cared about.

The walk back to her apartment was a quiet affair after, for once, actually paying for the meal. Mikhail decided he’d enjoyed the outing all in all, even if he wasn’t going be able to taste her delicious blood the way he wanted to. Still…

They arrived at her doorstep and she gave him a tentative, frightened look—they were back to their regular dynamic of her fearing him and him using her for his own purposes.

He smiled toothily at her, leaning against the wall adjacent to her casually. “Tomorrow, 11pm. Alone.”

Sophie’s eyes widened at thought of seeing him again so soon. She looked like she was going to protest, however weakly, but he wasn’t going to allow it.

“Tonight was a waste of my time because I had to take care of you,” he told her, leaking some latent irritation into his voice. She flinched at his words. “So I’ll see you tomorrow. Problem?”

She heard the challenge and threat in his voice and wisely didn’t step up to the plate. Wordlessly, she averted her eyes and nodded, turning to the front door to let herself in.

Just as it unlocked and she was about to step in, he spoke again. “Sophie.”

Wary at the dangerously soft tone of his voice, she turned back to him. She was biting her lower lip nervously and his eyes were drawn to her plump, rosy mouth.

It was pure instinct from that moment on.

He closed the space between them instantly and yanked her into him, crushing his lips against hers. Terrified and broken out of whatever complacency she had felt at the seemingly nonthreatening night, she screamed into his mouth and tried to push him away. Gripping her forearms to disarm her, he switched their positions and slammed her against the wall he’d been leaning on, pressing himself up against her lush body and forcing her lips open with his tongue.

Like seemingly all of her, her mouth had a pleasing flavor to it. He pried her gritted teeth open and slipped his cool tongue into her hot mouth. She was screaming, but her cries were muffled by his lips. He forced her tongue to dance with his and was thoroughly enjoying the kiss when her teeth suddenly tried to clamp down on his tongue.

He pulled away just in time before she could attempt to sever his tongue with her teeth. “Your friends,” he threatened heatedly. His mouth was then crushed against hers again.

When he thrust his tongue inside her mouth again, she was limp and pliant but no less unwilling. Her lips were soft against his own and her mouth was hot and velvety, so despite her lack of participation the action of kissing her was definitely pleasant.

Even if it served no real purpose—it wouldn’t arouse her, nor would it be a decent way to feed on her—he decided he would do it more often regardless.

She was inhaling and exhaling heavily through her nose and he was reminded that unlike him, she needed to breathe. He pulled away at last, leaving a parting cut on her inner bottom lip with his fang and pulling several warm drops of her blood from her wound, sucking hard on her lower lip.

The tantalizing taste of her delicious flavor, just a few teasing droplets, would have to last him until the next day.

And then he was pulling away, releasing her and stepping back. Her forearms would have bruises where he’d gripped her too tightly in the moment of passion, but he knew she would be smart enough to cover them up however she needed to.

Sophie was panting, leaning almost limply on the wall he’d pushed her up against with her eyes closed and slow tears trickling down from between her eyelids. Her visage was truly beautiful and the mere thought was enough to surprise him.

Nonetheless, he made sure he was gone by the time she finally opened her eyes.