Sam was sleeping. The sun had just started to go down and she was finishing up her daily routine: hair washed, dried and brushed until it shone, her body clean and smelling of vanilla cream as he requested. The special bowl that he used for her blood in the morning sat in front of her, along with a silver knife that was sharp enough to cut into glass.
It wouldn't be long before he summoned her to his chambers to feed him and give him whatever other needs he asked of her. One would think that she wouldn't look forward to this every day, but in truth she did. Some claimed it was the glamor he had over her, but she thought differently. He loved her. Even when he hit her, forced himself upon her, he still loved her. As she lay bleeding on the bed after they "made love" that left her unable to walk, he would kiss her lips gently and whisper words of love to her. He wanted her to be his eternal mate, to stay with him forever.
He kept promising to turn her, but that had yet to happen. She waited anxiously, every day, for it to happen but it never did. So she would continue doing what she did. She smiled softly as she picked up her knife and dragged it across her wrist, making sure not to drop a single drop onto the sides of the cup, but having it all land cleanly in the middle. The sun went down from the horizon and she stood, making her way to his chambers with the chalice in hand.
She was completely nude, as he always wanted her. As she stepped into his room, she walked slowly and softly to the pillow that lay in front of his coffin, sat on it gently and sat the cup in front of her as she stared anxiously at his coffin. If he wasn't up soon, the blood would be cold. He didn't like it when the blood was cold.
It wouldn't be long before he summoned her to his chambers to feed him and give him whatever other needs he asked of her. One would think that she wouldn't look forward to this every day, but in truth she did. Some claimed it was the glamor he had over her, but she thought differently. He loved her. Even when he hit her, forced himself upon her, he still loved her. As she lay bleeding on the bed after they "made love" that left her unable to walk, he would kiss her lips gently and whisper words of love to her. He wanted her to be his eternal mate, to stay with him forever.
He kept promising to turn her, but that had yet to happen. She waited anxiously, every day, for it to happen but it never did. So she would continue doing what she did. She smiled softly as she picked up her knife and dragged it across her wrist, making sure not to drop a single drop onto the sides of the cup, but having it all land cleanly in the middle. The sun went down from the horizon and she stood, making her way to his chambers with the chalice in hand.
She was completely nude, as he always wanted her. As she stepped into his room, she walked slowly and softly to the pillow that lay in front of his coffin, sat on it gently and sat the cup in front of her as she stared anxiously at his coffin. If he wasn't up soon, the blood would be cold. He didn't like it when the blood was cold.