I breathed out a sigh of relief as the water cascaded over my frame, rinsing away the reminder of what I was and what I could never be. Even my hair was stained with blood, and I began to scrub it enthusiastically, knowing it would take time to return it to its natural shade of blonde. The flush on my body remained as I washed away the blood, my ivory skin holding a rosy, healthy glow that wasn’t due to the heat of the water.
I often wished I could get the same enjoyment out of water that I received from the fresh blood coursing over my skin. The sensations were similar—the liquid heat, the warming skin, the momentary sense of peace at the soft sound of flowing fluid. Yet no matter how many showers or baths I took, or the scents of herbs I chose for the soaps, there was still a difference in the two that was unavoidable. Blood was sultry, sending a pulse deep into my being with every wave as if pouring life and pleasure into me. Water merely cleansed the human dirt that remained.
Flicking the water off with a sigh, I reached for my towel and groaned when empty air met my hand. I really needed to learn to check for those before I got in. I preferred the privacy of bathing alone without the aid of an attendant. With a grumble, I rang the cord that hung in each of my rooms, calling for assistance. I rarely utilized it. Servants meant interference with my work and solitude, and interacting with them increased the risk of me becoming attached to a human. I didn’t relish the idea of knowing my food intimately.
A soft series of knocks heralded the arrival of a servant, and for a moment, I debated sending them away rather than requesting their services. Servants were a hard lot to measure. Some were forced into service, owing us a debt or being sold to us to pay off the arrears of another. Others hoped to become one of us, to claim what they saw as a gift. I wasn’t sure how any of the humans who had seen our daily lives would perceive them as glamorous or as a goal to achieve, although I had never lived in the squalor that was common amongst humanity after the plagues had decimated the population.
Maybe I would feel differently about life if I lived every day hungry, cold, tired, and in fear. Despite that and our consumption of them, humans still bred rapidly both inside and outside the castle. Few were blessed with the witch gene and, instead, faced a life of destitution.
“Come in,” I called. At the soft creak and click of the door, I continued, “There were no towels placed in the bathroom.” Shuffling and shifting noises met my ears as the servant dug through the storage cupboards on the far side of my rooms that held the linens. I didn’t bother concealing my body—nudity around humans was not something many were hesitant about.
The young man who entered was surprisingly attractive for a human, enough to have me shifting slightly as he approached, his head angled to prevent himself from staring at my naked, dripping form. He was only a few inches taller than my own five foot eight, and his hair was a golden brown, nearly blond in some spots and dark in others, which created an oddly appealing mixture. His skin was heavily tanned from his work, adding an attractive, healthy glow that had hunger tickling at the pit of my stomach, though which type of hunger I was hard-pressed to say.
“Miss,” he offered, his husky timbre quiet as he held out the towels for me.
I accepted them quickly, tightening the thick cotton around my body and letting it absorb the water lingering on my skin. I twisted my hair up into another towel, knotting it to absorb the weight and stay on its own as I studied the servant. Apparently it was the day for new faces.
“I apologize for your rooms not being properly stocked. The servants are undergoing a shift, though it’s no excuse for your discomfort.”
I arched a brow at the apology, considering him. There was no blatant pleading, which was not uncommon from servants who believed one of us to be angry at them, merely a statement made in a calm, quiet tone.
“You aren’t normally in these quarters,” I commented, as he executed a bow and placed extra towels on the nearby racks, ensuring I would not run out again soon.
“No, miss. I am assigned to this wing for the foreseeable future, should you not have any objection to it.”
I cocked my head to study him, interested in the human who showed so little fear. I had never had a pet human, unwilling to take on one of the fawning, quivering, weeping women who were my usual companions. None of them had appealed to me as sexual partners, nor had any of the personally claimed servants who were mockingly referred to as pets.
“Your name?” I asked quietly, the question falling from my lips for the first time with a servant.
“Sebastian, miss.” His reply was low, his head still bowed.
“Are you claimed, Sebastian?” It was rare, though not completely unheard of, for a pet to continue to work in a general capacity for the servants. Usually it was seen in sexual pets whose companionship and servant skills were not necessary for the vampire’s day-to-day life. Even rarer, a blood witch might be granted a pet whose blood was incredibly powerful for the spells they specialized in. Once claimed, even if rejected later, a human could not be claimed again.
Many pet humans bore a mark of the one who had chosen them, though it was not a necessity to claim ownership. Some were possessive of their pets and chose to warn other vampires away from them. Others enjoyed inciting fights amongst their peers by not openly marking their possession and allowing another vampire to essentially trespass against their pet.
“No, miss.” His reply was so soft I could barely hear it, let alone distinguish his thoughts.
“Look at me, Sebastian,” I ordered, my tone even and calm.
Eyes of brilliant blue met mine, his head lifting proudly. Neither fear nor resignation were in his eyes, though it was the most common thing I would see in the humans here. Not even worship, which was oddly disconcerting in some of the humans. Instead, they were heated, anger bordering on violence flashing in the ocean-like depths. That was unique. I wondered how this human had come not only into the castle but into such a high level of service if he contained that much fury inside of him toward my people. Not that he would be a threat, merely an inconvenience.
“Can you read?” I inquired curiously. He blinked, surprise momentarily replacing the anger in his gaze as he considered my unusual question.
“Yes, miss.” His response was slower this time, most likely from confusion at my odd question, though it lacked none of the propriety that vampires required from their humans.
“Can you write?” I queried next, moving past him into my room, letting the towel fall from my now dry body.
Surprising me with his speed, he trailed after me, sliding my clothes from the wardrobe and approaching to lay them on the black satin comforter of my bed before responding. “Yes, miss. I can write as well.”
“Why?” Even amongst vampires, literacy was not common. I was sure it was fairly minimal amongst humans.
His mouth twisted down, his lips tightening, and I was sure he didn’t want to answer me though he knew better than to ignore my question. “My mother was a witch. I learned from her.”
Interesting, I thought. We knew the witch gene was not always passed on, but if any of my other servants—or meals—had been part-blood, I had been unable to tell.
I slid my shirt into place, letting the silken fabric skim my thighs as I faced him. “You know my next order, Sebastian.” I didn’t bother stating it, merely waiting for him to step in front of me and offer his wrist. While I could smell his blood through his skin, if I chose to take him as a pet, I would feed on him regularly, bonding him to me and providing additional sustenance. It would also offer him protection, since a pet could not be chosen for a meal unless given up by his owner. His blue eyes flashed again, anger and defiance clear in their depths, his movements slow as though he was hoping I would rescind the command.