Stolen By The Vampire King by Roxie Ray
Leia
I’d lost track of the hours in the grim room where I spent my time. The gothic features added to the heaviness of my mood, and the dim pool of light barely cast from under the central lampshade did nothing to chase the shadows away. I left that light on all the time, though. At least it gave me a fighting chance to see any monsters that might sneak their way into the space.
I listened to each footfall outside the door with dread, but this morning, the scrape of the lock had woken me. I scrambled from bed, sleeping fully dressed because I didn’t want to be anything less than protected and covered up.
The bed was between the door and me when Francois entered, a tray balanced on one arm.
A wide grin claimed his lips the moment he saw me. “Bonjour, ma petite. Ça-va?” He put the tray down on the sturdy dresser.
I nodded. “I’m fine, thank you, Francois.”
Finewas a relative term, but I still hadn’t figured a way out of this shithole and my goal had shifted slightly to making it from day to day alive. I figured baby steps were okay in this situation.
He provided me with plenty of food and drink, like he really did know how to take care of a pet human, but I rarely ate more than a few bites. My plan, such as it was, involved making him let his guard down. Once he trusted me enough to let me roam the house, I could leave.
And I wouldn’t earn his trust by angering him. He left the room, and I breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing my posture and slumping against the bed.
“Ma petite? Are you well?” I jerked my head back up—I hadn’t even heard him come back into the room.
What the hell? He never came back into the room. He only ever brought food, made polite enquiries about my health, or escorted me to the hospital facility beneath us. The doctors down there changed almost every visit, with Francois’s eyes glowing dull red every time another one of them touched me to perform their tests.
He approached the small table that sat in one corner of the room and draped a lace tablecloth over it before leaving the room for a second time and reentering with a bouquet of flowers already in a vase.
Fussing silently for a little while over his task, he produced candles from a pocket in his jacket and set the table for romance before unloading the tray.
I edged a little closer, glancing at the pastries and eggs. “Not lighting the candles?”
His eyes held knowledge as he looked at me. “Non,” he bit out. “No fire.” He looked meaningfully at the bed, still rumpled from where I’d crawled out of it. “Unless…the flames of passion would be welc—”
“Breakfast looks lovely.” I cut off his next words, and he drew one of the chairs out for me to sit down.
I approached him, conjuring a smile. I sat carefully at the table as Francois nuzzled his nose into my hair then against the crook of my neck, which only reminded me how badly I needed a decent shower, but I refused to be naked and vulnerable in this house. My vulnerability level was already high enough, without adding nudity.
I stayed still, frozen as he inhaled and brought his hand up to caress my hair.
“Perfection,” he murmured. “And such temptation. I’m unsure how Nicolas bore it when you were content to sit so close to him in my restaurant.”
His voice was quiet, like he was pondering a problem rather than making conversation. Then he straightened, the movement abrupt and walked to the seat opposite me.
He gestured at the small spread of food. “Eat, ma petite. And bon appétit.”
I expected to croissant to be hard and stale—as badly preserved as the rest of Francois’s home, but the pastry flaked pleasingly under my fingertips. Despite myself, my stomach grumbled and my mouth watered.
Francois smiled. “You haven’t been eating enough.” He pitched his voice low, concern in his eyes as his brows drew together. “I hoped the answer was company. So—” He clapped his hands. “We eat together. Bon!”
He punctuated his sentence with a wide, benevolent smile, and it changed his face, ushering away the scary monster I absolutely knew him to be. He reached for a pastry of his own, his hand brushing against mine, and he stilled, his eyes fluttering closed. I jerked away and he set his croissant on his plate.
“I don’t usually partake.” He made it sound like a confession. “My sustenance doesn’t come from food… Father doesn’t approve.” Then he seemed to shake himself or press the rest button. “But you, you ma petite, you will change everything.”
I paused my chewing, the croissant like ash in my mouth at his words. I didn’t want to ask what he meant. I probably already knew. But I simply couldn’t help it. “How do you mean? Don’t you have guests very often?”
It was like the most dangerous of games, pretending to be something I wasn’t, layering innocent questions into complex mazes designed to lead to a destination I didn’t know the location of, and all while fear almost paralyzed me.
My smile was fake and still, my eyes possibly a little too bright as I focused on blinking tears away.
He reached for my hand, his hold gentle but possessive. “But you are more than a guest. You are my savior, my bride. You will return my royal house to its full potential.” His eyes shone with something suspiciously like pride, and as he spoke, his fangs descended.
I pressed back against my chair, sucking in a quick breath.
“Don’t be afraid,” he crooned, his thumb smoothing small circles on the back of my hand. “I long for you. It’s only natural that you should see how much.”
I shoved another bite of croissant in my mouth and nodded, ignoring the prickling of my eyes. An ice-cold wave of horror washed through me, leaving me numb and weighting my limbs.
“Soon, ma petite, soon you will know pleasure like you’ve never experienced. I will take you to my bed and worship you, and you will want for nothing more.”
His dark promise filled me with dread, and I looked at my hands so he didn’t see my revulsion. He was clearly unhinged if he thought abduction was the start of a meaningful relationship.
But had Nicolas really been any better? Okay, so he hadn’t abducted me—but I’d signed his contract under duress, and his end game was the same as Francois’s.
Me.
In his bed.
At the thought of Nicolas’s bed, my pulse spiked, and Francois laughed.
“Ah, you feel it too.” He raised my hand to his mouth, his lips lingering on my skin as he drew another inhale. “I will give you everything you so clearly want. I’d stay with you longer but I must go to my restaurant and talk to my staff, prepare them for your future role at my side.”
My chest tightened and I couldn’t draw a breath or speak, but he took my silence for compliance as he smiled again and offered me a small bow.
“I’ll see you very soon, I promise,” he said. “À très bientôt.” Then he swept his arm wide, encompassing the room in a grand gesture. “Bonne journée, ma petite.”
With another smile, he left the room, but the lock still clicked into place behind him, and I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle a sob.
He’s wished me a good day, but how could I have that as his prisoner, knowing what he intended? Weariness claimed me, and I curled back up on the bed and drew the heavy, musty comforter over me.
* * *
“Get up.”The quiet, rough voice was accompanied by motion as someone shook me awake. “Get up. You’ll wake the master’s temper if you’re late.”
For the second time in my day, I scrambled from the bed and stood dirty and crumpled in front of the person who’d entered my locked room. And this person wasn’t Francois.
Perhaps she could help me.
I clutched to the sudden hope that she could help me escape.
“Come with me.” She grasped my wrist, her firm hold crunching my bones.
“Ow!” I yanked away and her face paled, her deep-brown eyes widening as she glanced around.
“Shh!” she hissed. “We’ll both be in trouble.”
“Not as much as you will be if you bruise me.” I didn’t know that for sure, but I was confident enough to speak the words. If she wasn’t going to help me escape, she should at least fear hurting me.
Her grip loosened. “You’re to come for a shower and a change of clothes.”
Relief at the idea of being clean mingled with fear. “Where’s Francois?” I didn’t want him anywhere near me while I was naked.
“The master, Prince Francois has sent word that he will join you later.”
I relaxed a little. Perhaps I could spare two or three minutes to shower in the knowledge he wasn’t nearby. The woman—one of Francois’s staff members, probably, but I hadn’t met any of them before—led me down a corridor where more wall sconces glowed with weak light and heavy tapestries hung on the wall. They were all gray with dust.
“The master has requested you make use of his bathroom.” The woman threw a door open and gestured me into a masculine bedroom. The wood was so dark it was almost black, and gray sheets were stretched across the bed. As if it was habit, the woman with me straightened them, although the bed was already perfectly made.
I glanced around Francois’s bedroom. The place he wanted to bring me. The dread festering in the pit of my stomach tasted bitter.
But this room was clean and dust free, with touches of modernity that were incongruous with the rest of the house, and also incongruous to how Francois presented with his hairstyle and the clothes he favored.
The maid threw open another door. “This is the bathroom. Once you’re finished in the shower, I’ll bring the dress the master has selected.”
Another wave of longing for Nicolas passed through me. I missed him. But once I escaped here, I didn’t intend to see him or Francois ever again—no matter how much I yearned to be in Nicolas’s arms, kissing him, fucking grinding against him as he roamed his hands over my body.
“Go in.” The maid waved her hands forward and I entered the bathroom, where I expected to find the same clunky plumbing as in my bathroom at home, but my mouth dropped open at the modern luxury.
The shower was an altar to cleanliness, with a big rain head on the ceiling, and numerous other smaller showerheads at intervals down the wall. The controls looked like a NASA display panel.
“Stand still.” The maid was suddenly behind me, her strong hands tugging at the fastenings of my gown.
When it loosened, I pressed my arms over my front to keep it in place.
“Here you go.” She passed me bottles of shower gel and shampoo, both unscented. “The master likes your natural scent, apparently.”
She wrinkled her nose but passed no further comment.
My mind was already swirling with possibilities at the realization that I would probably be left alone to shower. Once the maid left, I’d be able to make my way down the stairs and out the front door. I’d memorized every squeaky floorboard on the way to the tests Francois had escorted me to.
“I’ll wait right outside for you to be finished. Don’t be long.”
My heart sank at her words. I wouldn’t truly be alone after all, not enough to make a break for it, and I already knew she was unreasonably strong. She wasn’t someone I wanted to fight with. My wrist still ached where she’d grabbed it before.
I rushed through the shower and grabbed the only towel I could see before peeping into the bedroom, and damn, the maid had lied. She must have left a room at some point, because now there was an ugly black and red dress lying on Francois’s bed.
As I moved forward, the towel clutched tightly around me, someone stepped from the shadows, and I stiffened, my body warring between fright or flight. But it was okay. It was only the maid. Not Francois.
Not Francois.
The thought echoed through my mind as relief weakened me.
“This is your gown for dinner.” The maid pointed to it, but her words were almost unnecessary.
Of course, I was supposed to wear that hideous thing. The skirt was full and looked heavy, and oversized red beads decorated a black bodice like blood spatter. I’d look like I’d been murdered while attending a Victorian era funeral.
But I was playing along, playing my part, biding my time. Francois had no idea how long I’d spent waiting patiently for my life to change, waiting for the opportunities I could grab and change things. I could wait these few days until an opening came to me.
I tensed my muscles and stepped into the dress, gasping as it tightened at my waist and over my ribs as the maid drew on the laces, tugging them until I almost couldn’t draw breathe.
When she’d finished, she spun me around. “Better,” she murmured as she skimmed her gaze down me. “I just need to do something with that bird’s nest on your head.”
The brush she used was antiquated and snagged on my hair, but I gritted my teeth, using the pain in my scalp to keep my centered and focused on all the reasons I had to escape.
“That’s the best I can do.” She looked at me critically before swiping bright red lipstick across my mouth. Then she led me from the bedroom and down the staircase I was becoming increasingly familiar with.
I made sure to tread on every creaky board—anything to lure the people in this house into a false sense of security over whether I could move around quietly. We passed by the curtain Francois usually swept aside to reveal the antique elevator, and we ventured deeper into the house, to wings I hadn’t been in before.
Back here, several of the doors stood open, revealing rooms in various states of decaying grandeur. The wooden flooring was scratched and scarred where it must have once been resplendent. Various shades of wood were still visible, as though there’d been a pattern when it was first laid.
In the rooms, the carpets were worn and the paths of people’s footsteps over the years were obvious. The color palette would have been luxurious once, deep jewel colors that spoke of wealth, but it was faded now, and the splendor was lost.
I tried to remember my way back to the front door in case I found an opportunity to run now that I wasn’t locked up, but the maid took several turns past rooms that looked so similar, it was hard to recall the path we’d taken. The house was vast and sprawling in a way I hadn’t expected.
We walked into a room with a blazing fire, which was probably unnecessary in the summer or New Orleans, but nothing so far had warmed the chill inside me. A portrait above the fireplace drew my eye, showing Francois and several others in period dress.
Through a partially open set of double doors, I spotted what looked like a fully appointed living room with black leather sofas and top-of-the-line electronics, but as I ventured closer for a better look at the out-of-context room in this museum-like house, the maid coughed a soft warning.
I stopped, my heartbeat nearly in my throat as my dress seemed to cinch tighter around me.
Francois emerged from the mystery room, closing the doors tight behind him. He wore a suit, less flamboyant than his usual style, and something more modern suited him, the clean lines revealing his broad shoulders and hugging his trim body. His tousled hair shone under the low lights, and when he grinned, he looked every inch the handsome date.
“Ma petite.” He held out an arm, his hand open for me to take. “You look ravishing in that dress, just like I knew you would.”
The maid gave me a small push in Francois’s direction, and his eyes flashed as he looked at her.
“Leave us,” he commanded. His eyes blazed red, and his fangs descended as he looked at the maid. “No one touches my bride in that way.”
She gasped quietly and bobbed a quick curtsey. “Yes, your highness.” Then she fled from the room like Francois had just released the hounds of Hell to chase her.
After she’d gone, he approached me, his steps careful. He reached for my hand and lifted it to his lips, lingering over the kiss like he always did. Then he turned my hand and pressed a second kiss to the inside of my wrist, lingering there, too.
I drew my hand from him, a forced giggle covering the bolt of fear that shot through me. I wanted to wipe the lingering feel of his kiss away but didn’t dare.
“I like your little teases, ma petite. Our first time together will be so much sweeter for this temptation, and I will show you the very depths of pleasure.”
He drew my chair out like he had at breakfast, and I focused my attention on the long banquet table where only two places were set, neither at the head of the table.
Francois noticed my curious gaze and gestured to the large chair. “Father can’t be with us, I’m afraid. I’m sure he’d pass along his regrets.” His mouth twisted slightly as he spoke and his eyes clouded.
Then he shook his head and seemed to snap out of it, his eyes clear as he focused on me. “At my request, the chef at the restaurant has taken the liberty of preparing every dish you appeared to enjoy when you dined with us.” As he spoke, a hunched over, gray-haired man wheeled in a small trolley bearing a range of covered plates. “This is Tolley, the Ricard family butler.”
I nodded toward the man, but he didn’t look up from his task as he transferred the plates to table.
The dishes he uncovered were familiar ones Nicolas had recommended I try on our… Well, it had felt like a date when we started, but apparently it had been some sort of business meeting with Francois.
“Nicolas saw you that night?” My voice came out soft and uncertain.
“Mais oui, ma chèrie. We had much to discuss. As it turns out, he’s a man who doesn’t keep his word.” Francois shrugged. “But no matter. I’ve benefited the most from his treachery.”
When he slid a glance down my body this time, it lingered at the scoop neck that revealed the top swells of my breasts, and lust heated his gaze.
“Do you think we can go to the restaurant again? Maybe together? I tried to see some of the city, but I don’t remember much of it. I’ve always wanted to visit New Orleans.” Maybe if I could get outside Francois’s home, I could escape. Perhaps even contact Nicolas. He’d get me back to Baton Rouge.
So much more than I imagined hinged on his answer. I might actually get outside if I could manipulate him well enough. Francois himself could facilitate my escape.
When Francois didn’t reply, I swayed leaned forward, revealing even more of my breasts for his perusal.
“It could be like a date? You could show me around.” I held my breath. I couldn’t overdo this. He needed to trust me to allow me out.
“Non. Impossible.” His expression hardened, his jaw tightening, his eyes turning cool. His voice rose as he spoke his next words—the same commanding tone he’d used with the maid, only I wouldn’t have the opportunity to flee. “You are my bride now, and you need to forget the outside world. I am everything for you.”
