Stolen By The Vampire King by Roxie Ray

1

Leia

He approached me with a smile and a blindfold, and I scrambled off the bed as his fangs descended, fear stealing my ability to breathe. Sex play was new. He’d only brought me food or water before, and occasionally I’d seen him open the door wide enough to peer in, like he just wanted to see me.

When I’d woken up in this room, fear had bound me so tightly, I thought I might die from it. The fear was dulled now, but it wasn’t gone.

“Ma petite,” the vampire murmured. “Do not be afraid, ma petite. I’d never harm you. I must simply take precautions. Our time here grows short. I wish to take you home.”

A sigh of relief caught in my throat. Home. Nic. The thought of him came unbidden. Worse, his nickname ran around my head like an intimate caress as my subconscious claimed him in a way I’d never wanted nor intended. But somehow—possibly in the face of this crazy vampire holding a blindfold—Nicolas Dupont had come to represent safety.

“Nicolas?” His name was out of my mouth before I thought it through, and I grimaced when the other vampire glowered.

“Non,” he snapped. “Not Nicolas.”

He whined Nicolas’s name, making it sound weak, when the man I knew was anything but weak. Nicolas was commanding and in control. The memory of Nicolas’s controlled strength as he’d held me or kissed me still drew fire through me, and I clung to that fierce heat.

“Maison de Ricard,” he said as if that explained everything. “With Francois Ricard. With me.” He jabbed his chest emphatically.

“Fr…Francois?” I took a reluctant step forward. If knowledge was power, at least I knew his name now.

“Oui.” His face lit up with a smile, his pleasure plain to see. “Oui, ma petite. Your Francois. Speak my name again. I want to taste my name on your lips.” He moved closer, but I held my hands out.

“I don’t want to wear that.” I pointed at the black blindfold, still dangling from his hand like a spent flag.

He glanced at it and his brow furrowed. “But you must. You can’t see.”

I shook my head. “I won’t.” Determination filled me. Fuck this guy.

Francois obviously had no idea how much shit I’d already been through in the last week. He wasn’t the first vampire to show an unhealthy interest in me.

He shrugged, a look of regret flashing through his eyes. “Then we need to do it the hard way.” He half turned toward the door. “Victor!” he barked, and a large man, so broad his shoulders almost touched both sides of the doorframe, strode into view.

I took a step backward.

“Victor can knock you out, instead,” Francois’s tone was gentle, at odds with the violence he’d just promised, and I froze as Victor curled his hand into a fist the size of a sledgehammer.

“No, he can’t.” I spoke quickly. “He could kill me. Look at the size of him. If he hits me, I could die.”

I hadn’t fucking survived attempts to bite my neck to die at the hands of man whose reason to exist seemed to be to issue beatings, if his build was any indication.

Francois cocked his head as he watched me, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, I’d forgotten the fragility of humans.” He reached out like he might touch me. “So delicate.” Then he shook his head like he was breaking a spell. “You must wear the blindfold. There is no other choice.”

Shit. I’d been holding out hope that Nicolas might somehow rescue me from this multi-colored prison. Even now, the riot of carnival colors splashed over the walls jarred me. The only relief I got was lying on my back on the bed and looking up at the plain white ceiling.

But why had I thought Nicolas might rescue me?

Not thought, my brain whispered. Truly hoped. I wanted to mean enough to him that he’d rip apart the entire state of Louisiana to find me.

“Why are we leaving?” Perhaps I simply needed to delay Francois and give Nicolas more time.

“This is not my home.” He looked at me like the answer was simple. Obvious, even. “This is not the home for you.” His eyes glinted but not with anger—with the hint of madness I’d quickly come to expect from him. “Now come here and turn around for me.”

He motioned with his finger that I should spin, and I didn’t have anywhere to go.

Nowhere to run. Victor still blocked the door, and I didn’t even know where the fuck I was. I’d have to bide my time and plan.

I stood in front of Francois, my back to him, and he moved closer until his chest brushed against me.

He leaned forward, nuzzling my hair. “Parfait! You smell divine, ma chèrie.” He dropped his head and his breath skimmed my neck as his lips touched against me. “You tempt me.”

His tone grew darker, and I withheld a shudder. We played this game often. He smelled my hair then focused too intently on my neck and I held still, wary of his fangs. They were far too close to me right now. But I just needed to give him a moment to collect himself.

Or a distraction.

“The blindfold.” I almost whispered the words, but he straightened immediately.

“Oui, bien sûr. Of course, the blindfold.” He fastened it over my face with too much efficiency to leave me anything but nervous.

This wasn’t Francois’s first rodeo.

“Should I bind your wrists?”

The question was about me, but I didn’t know if he was asking me, looking to Victor for a reply, or talking to himself. I shook my head, the movement quick and emphatic. “No. I’ll behave.”

Fabric rustled as Francois moved, and I pictured his velvet coat and his too-big, fluted sleeves as he moved in front of me. Despite his fashion being something out of a regency novel, with his dark eyes and dark hair, I might have considered him handsome if he hadn’t abducted me.

A touch grazed my cheek. Soft and careful. Something reverent. “Of course you’ll behave, ma petite.” Then he laughed loudly, the sound incongruent with the gentle tone he’d used to speak to me. “You’re going to make Father so proud of me.”

I relaxed a little, letting go of the tension in my muscles. The small things he said when he checked on me always suggested I was more than a snack, that he had an end game. That much was a relief because it suggested that I had time. Time that I sorely needed.

He wrapped an arm around me, and I gasped as he yanked me against him, his breath on my neck again. The merest hint of fang grazed me as the hard length of his cock pressed between us.

“Of course,” he mumbled, his voice thick, “I could just take you now and kill Father before he even wakes up.”

I pressed my lips together, ignoring the fear that threatened to weaken my legs. I really needed Nicolas to come and get me. I’d agree to anything he wanted, sign a thousand more contracts, if he just ensured my safety.

But Francois led me from the room, and I stumbled along a narrow corridor with rough walls on either side of me any time I reached out to find my balance. He drew me carefully down a flight of steps, coaching me like I was a child, and then he sat me in a car that smelled of leather and old money.

Wherever he escorted me into after a short car ride had strong notes of mildew and damp, and the unexpected decay tickled my nose. In the absence of anything to orient me, I clung to Francois’s arm, and his hand patted mine then lingered as he threaded our fingers together.

“Home,” he announced, and I imagined him making a big sweeping gesture as I turned to where I thought his face would be, as if I could watch him. “You’re finally home. I’m going to take you straight to your room so you can rest and change, and then I have something planned.”

Excitement was clear in his voice, and it charged the air between us. He still hadn’t taken the blindfold off, and he led me forward.

“I should carry you.” As with a lot of the things he said, he sounded thoughtful, and I opened my mouth to tell him I could walk, but a surprised shriek emerged instead when he swung me into his arms and cradled me against his chest. “It’s tradition,” he murmured, his words hot against my ear.

He was stronger than I expected, his body leaner under the flamboyance of his clothes, and the hard muscles pressed against me acted as a warning. Francois was a man I shouldn’t cross.

He strode up the stairs with ease, his hold on me firm but gentle, and he held me easily, shifting my position as he opened a door then walked through. The same, strange smell of decay lingered in here, but also something zesty like the room had been recently cleaned.

I jumped as Francois’s hands grasped my shoulders, and he tugged me closer before his touch lifted. Then the blindfold loosened, and I squinted against sudden light.

“You’re home,” he said then pressed the back of my hand to his lips.

He looked almost shy as he watched me gaze around my new prison, because I had no doubt that was what it was. Just another fucking new prison, only this one had a dark wood four-poster bed with graying sheer drapes and too much discolored lace. The rest of the furniture was also dark wood, and massive, substantial pieces I wouldn’t be able to move.

“Your bathroom is over there.” Francois made a stiff gesture to a door then watched me like he wanted me to open it.

When I did, I found a claw-foot tub that I’d never get in, cracked porcelain floor tiles and an antique-looking toilet and sink. The citrus scent overlay continued in here, and when I returned my focus to the bedroom, Francois was standing by an open door on the other side of the room.

“This is your closet.” He eyed me speculatively, his gaze clear for once. “I think the clothing should fit. Help yourself to anything you desire, ma petite.”

He waved his hand expansively again, the perfect gesture of generosity, but I shuddered as I glanced around, trying to keep my reactions furtive.

If I had to get out of this on my own, I needed a plan. So far, the path of least resistance wasn’t yielding results.

Floor-to-ceiling drapes were closed on the wall opposite, but presumably they covered a window—and a window meant a means of escape. I walked to them and glanced up at the dusty chandelier on the ceiling. A weak pool of light was almost directly below it, but shadows crowded the rest of the room.

“Do you mind if I let some light in?” Before Francois even replied, I pushed one of the drapes aside.

Shit. Oh, fuck. My lungs seized as I took in the bricked-up window the drapes concealed.

“Oh. We had a problem with Mother,” Francois murmured vaguely, and I nodded, forcing my lips to tighten into the parody of a smile.

“Can I rest now?” I needed to make him go away. I couldn’t even think with him still in the room, and I needed to figure out how to escape. I couldn’t depend on rescue.

Francois bowed stiffly. “Bien sûr, ma chèrie. Of course.” He reached for my hand again but turned it, his nose lingering over the inside of my wrist before he pressed a kiss there. “Your pulse beats for me. I’ll be back for you shortly. Sleep well, ma petite.”

After Francois let himself out, I waited. I could probably slip out of the room if I was quiet enough. But then the clunk from the lock twisting into place changed my plans.

I explored the whole room, but I was sealed in. Nothing was loose, and the furniture was all heavy. There wasn’t even anything in the closet but moth-eaten Victoriana dresses stained with grime and something the color of dried blood that I didn’t want to examine too closely in case it turned out to be exactly what I thought it was.

Eventually, exhaustion forced me to the bed, and I lay down and closed my eyes. At least the sheets smelled fresh.

* * *

“Ma petite.”

Someone was stroking my hair and I was fully alert before I even opened my eyes, but I remained still for a moment longer, preserving the illusion I was still asleep.

“Oh, ma petite,” Francois whispered. “Such perfection.”

When his finger trailed down my cheek, I jerked away, pulling back into a small huddle on the other side of the bed.

Francois stood next to where I’d been lying, arm still extended, his eyebrows drawn together in a confused frown. “Are you all right?”

I faked a yawn, concealing my mouth behind my hand. “Just…waking up.”

“You haven’t changed your clothes.” He sounded stern, like I’d displeased him.

“I was just so tired. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.” I refused to apologize for not changing my damn clothes into one of the fucking fancy dress costumes in his fantasy closet.

He tightened his mouth into a flat line and his eyes glowed red for a moment before he breathed in deeply and nodded.

Then he spun and walked to the closet and clattered the hangers along the old rail before finally turning back to me with a deep purple gown held in his outstretched hand. “This one, I think.”

The bodice was a mass of lace and frills, and the skirt was full and long.

“I’m comfortable in what I’m wearing.” I stood and gestured to myself. “See.”

“Angelique will wash them for you.” He nodded like he’d already decided and shook the dress at me again. “You must look like you belong at my side.”

“Where are we going?” I stalled for time, eyeing the door he’d left ajar behind him. Wearing the dress he’d selected would make it difficult to run.

He followed the direction of my gaze and pushed the door closed with a soft click before leaning against it, his pose disarmingly casual.

“Do we need to do this the hard way?” His eyes glinted for a moment, and memories of Victor flashed through my mind.

I shook my head and held out my hand to take the dress. “No. I’ll change in the bathroom.”

Francois nodded, apparently satisfied with my acquiescence, and bundled the dress into my arms. I stood in the closed bathroom, trying to work through the tangled knots of my thoughts. It wasn’t like I could do anything in this small room. I needed to see more of the house, map it out, take stock of my options. After taking another deep breath, I dressed, my hands only barely shaking as I struggled to close unfamiliar fasteners and tiny buttons.

When we left the room, Francois tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow, his face a mask of pride as he glanced at me. I fought not to recoil from his touch. I was playing the long game, and for that I needed Francois’s trust. I was in Francois’s house, but I needed to win.

He led me down the stairs, which should have been wide and sweeping and regal, but threadbare carpets covered each tread, and the banister had been stripped of any varnish over the years from the thousands of times hands had run over it. Shadows clung to every corner, and wall sconces only threw meager light on fabrics and furnishings that must once have been rich and sumptuous—scratched wooden antiques and balding red velvet drapes.

But Francois looked around as though we were surrounded by luxury, his gaze bright and alive as he scanned our surroundings. “I’m so glad you’re here, ma petite. You’ll want for nothing. Can you see how grand our life together will be? All that I’m able to offer you?”

I nodded, a polite lie sticking in my throat as I pressed the nails of my free hand into my palm. I could do this. I could bide my time and plot and scheme my way to escape.

He tugged me closer to his side and bent to press his nose against my hair again. Then he led me to the back of the stairs and drew aside a fraying curtain on noisy wooden curtain rings, revealing a cage door and a rickety old elevator that looked like a prototype model for the actual first elevator.

“Come in, ma petite.” He obviously sensed my reluctance. “It’s perfectly safe, I assure you. I will always protect you.”

I closed my eyes for the entire descent, although it involved Francois winding us down, and where I expected the movement to be jerky, he made it perfectly smooth.

When the elevator stopped, I took a couple of deep breaths until Francois pushed the cage door aside, and I opened my eyes, expecting damp stone walls, green slime, and a part-flooded basement.

But stark white met me. Gleaming walls, proper electric lights, and a true, clean hospital smell—but more technology than in any district hospital.

“Do…Do you drink from blood bags, too?” The question crept from my lips before I even thought to ask.

Francois curled the corner of his lip and for a moment he looked like he might spit on the floor. He lifted a finger and rested it at the base of my neck. “I have only one blood source now, ma petite.”

I tensed against a full-body shudder but drew away just enough to create almost imperceptible space between us. Space I thought he wouldn’t notice, but he did.

He leaned toward me, his voice low as he spoke at my ear. “Soon you will learn to love being at my side, my touch, my body, and you’ll be mine willingly.”

I drew back. There was that word again. Talking about my will but completely ignoring it. What the fuck was wrong with all these guys? But even as I tried to hate them all, all the fucking vampires who’d crashed into my life, I couldn’t.

I wanted one of them.

I yearned for Nicolas Dupont and all the safety he suddenly represented. I was willing now.

Goddamn, I was willing.

“Where am I?” I looked around again and made my voice confident.

A man in a white coat approached, and he was studying a clipboard. He glanced up at Francois then bowed low. “Your highness. Is this the virgin?”

Francois wrapped his arm around my waist and drew me tightly against him. “This is ma petite,” he growled.

The man frowned. “But she is the human virgin?”

Francois nodded.

“I’ll have to confirm that.” The man’s pen scratched across his paperwork.

“I can confirm it.”

I jumped as Francois’s loud words echoed from the walls.

“Or do you need more than my word?” He lowered his voice to something deadly and threatening.

The man in front of me blanched as pale as his coat. “I’ll start the other tests,” he muttered and tugged my wrist so that I’d follow him.

Francois growled. “Doctor, do not touch my bride.” But he didn’t follow us as the doctor led me into a room and gestured for me to get onto a table. My ridiculous gown draped off the sides, but he didn’t seem bothered as he wheeled some sort of scanner over me. Light passed up and down my body, and a 3D version of me was rendered in a chamber on the other side of the room.

After drawing some of my blood, the needle at my elbow sharp, the doctor stepped over to study the hologram, leaving his clipboard on the table alongside me, and Francois joined him, his hands clasped behind his back. He glanced over his shoulder at me, his gaze taking in the blood-filled vials, and his nostrils flared.

Then he looked away, facing forward once more as the doctor explained something to him.

I glanced to my left, angling my head until my neck protested the position as I tried to read the writing on the paperwork. V something. Then the letters formed upside-down words.

Virgin blood…

The clipboard disappeared from view as the doctor guy grabbed it away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided before turning away again. “I need to strap her down for the next tests,” he called to Francois, who simply nodded, but when the doctor pulled the straps around my wrists, his eyes shone with malevolent excitement, and I closed my eyes.

There was a lot there I didn’t want to unpack.

“Just make sure you find out,” Francois said, tension in his tone.

The doctor nodded. I wanted to ask, find out what, but from the glazed look in Francois’ eyes and the barely hidden apprehension in the “doctor’s,” I wasn’t sure Francois even knew what he was asking for.

Time passed slowly. It could have been hours, but I was poked and prodded and some of the tests hurt. One seemed to be a bone marrow extraction without anesthetic, and as I hissed in pain, building in intensity until I was nearly screaming, Francois approached.

“What are you doing to her?” He wrapped his long fingers around the doctor’s neck and pressed until the man’s eyes bulged. “Why are you hurting her?”

The doctor opened his mouth but only made a gasping noise. When Francois relaxed his grip a little, the man managed to choke out his reply. “The tests… You wanted…”

Francois shook him. “Continue carefully.”

But I shook my head as the pain level increased, the pressure on my bone growing until I could almost feel my hip cracking. “No, Francois. I…”

His face blurred and I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t stop the shadows creeping in from the edge of my vision or my eyes from closing as I succumbed to the dark.

* * *

“Fuck.”The sharp word was like a bullet slicing through my skull. “Fuck.”

But there was a desperation in the word I’d never heard. I groaned as I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were so heavy. It was too hard to rip them upward, like they’d been nailed down.

“Ma petite?”

Someone clasped my hand between their palms and raised it to their mouth. Then Francois—and it was Francois—nuzzled his freshly shaven cheek against my knuckles. “Oh, ma petite. I thought he’d killed you.”

I fought back a sob. No. Fuck, no. I was still here. At least while I was unconscious, I didn’t have to face any of this. Francois, his time warp house… His madness.

He traced his fingertips down my cheek as a tear slid free from under my lashes. Then he made soft shushing noises. “Don’t cry, ma petite. He won’t harm you again. I’ve made sure of it.”

My stomach lurched. His voice was soft but his words were those of a stone-cold killer, and I was trapped in his home.

“I’m tired, Francois.” I croaked the words from my dry throat. “I need to sleep.”

“I understand.” His clothes rustled as he stood, his presence suddenly looming over me. “Are you cold, ma chèrie? I could stay and…warm you?”

He sounded so hesitant and there was a vulnerability to his voice that I didn’t want to hear.

I froze, every muscle stilling. I was pretty sure my heart didn’t even dare beat.

“I’m plenty warm, thank you.” I kept my eyes closed but tried to force my lips into a smile, holding my breath when I didn’t hear him leave right away.

His lips touched my forehead as he ran his fingers through my hair, his touch tender. “Fais de beau rêves, mon ange,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams, my angel.”

As soon as the door clicked closed behind him and the lock tumbled into place, a sob broke free from my chest, harsh in the empty room. I almost expected Francois to burst back through the door, but he didn’t.

I ached for Nicolas, yearned for him in a way I’d never thought possible, because if he turned up here now, his presence would be like a reset button. I’d be safe, and I could continue my life away from all of this shit.

Vampires. I didn’t want to know they existed, and they were all obsessed with my virginity in a way that almost made me want to run and have sex with the next human guy I saw so that it would no longer be an issue for them.

Except that wouldn’t work.

Not when the guy I most wanted to be with…

I stopped, willing my thoughts to halt, but they didn’t. The guy who aroused me more than ever before in my life was a vampire casino owner from Baton Rouge—even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

I wanted to return to Nicolas to see what we could become… but I was also pretty sure I’d be better off not knowing. His lifestyle was dangerous. My current predicament proved that.

I pressed my hand to my mouth. I’d missed out on so much in my life, looking after Dad and trying to keep the bar afloat. I hadn’t even lived and now I feared my fucking death. Maybe even my undeath.

If I escaped Francois… when I escaped, my life would be completely different—with or without Nicolas Dupont in it.

But it was Nicolas’ face I saw and his voice I heard in my head as I drifted off to sleep, and it was Nicolas who gave me those pleasant dreams Francois had told me to have.