There is a presence. I feel it through the subtle shift in the air. The floorboards creak as if pressed by a particularly heavy weight. The scent changes from the usual sweet of a woman to the cool frost of an ancient mountain.

Who is it I do not know. From whatever snippets of information I gather through my delirium, there are two different people. A woman who cares for me and a man – the master – who comes to check on me every evening.

When he comes the air changes. Something gets sucked out and something gets added infusing it with a sweet scent. It’s soothing yet disturbing, but I have never been awake long enough to decipher it.

“Still unconscious.” His voice rumbles in a quiet menace.

“Yes, master. She is still not awake.” The fragile female responds.

*****

TAMARA -

Lady Lestrange’s quarters are beautiful. Tall pillars with engravings from the lost Elven world, ivory silk curtains swaying in the breeze, rich coloured paintings hang on every wall, and cosy furniture is strewn across the quarters, ensuring the comfort of its erstwhile occupant.

There is an outer sitting room, and a small private guest room. The inner sanctum consists of a large bedroom, its windows opening to skies in all directions. Adjoining to the bedroom is a massive dressing room lined with tall mahogany wardrobes. Inside are rails of dresses, lavish gowns, and riding habits. Each comes with a set of matching shoes and labelled jewellery. Diamonds galore, gold and silver trinkets lay neatly in intricate wooden cases.

I trail Ophelia with a growing unease. I am an imposter, an intruder. The woman thinks I am the next Lady Lestrange, but I am a mere slave. My job is probably to clean these rooms, polish this ancient woodwork.

My legs come to a halt as she moves to a glass-fronted dresser. On each shelf are marble figurines wearing precious gems. There are deep red rubies, sparkling jade emeralds, blue sapphires, and moonstones. On the top shelf are diamond necklaces, each with intricate carving and set with rows of more precious stones. I have never seen anything like this.

“Urm…I am sorry, but I don’t think I should be here.” I make an about turn and rush out of the room. Ophelia follows me in surprise.

“My Lady! Whatever is the matter?”

She looks so concerned, my heart breaks. I wish I could tell her the truth, but I do not know what her reaction will be. She is a vampire herself. Can I trust her not to attack me once I tell her my truth?

“I… I am just a little tired.” I swallow, leaning on a couch arm. Now that I say it, I realize I am exhausted. The strain of the past days weighs heavy. I just need to sit, possibly sleep. I do not know if slaves are allowed to sleep in the daytime. Or how long it will take for Ophelia to march me to the dungeons once my truth is revealed.

“May I … have a drink, please?”

“Oh, I am so sorry, My Lady! How thoughtless of me! You must be starving. Let me get you some refreshments.” She scurries away and I perch on top of a corner of the couch. Soon she will be back, and her attitude will be different. By now Damien would have told Otto, and Otto will tell Ophelia. It is only a matter of minutes before I am ousted from these lavish quarters.

I clutch my finger in my lap and lower my eyes. My head drops with a dizzy spell, and I lean back on the couch. I do not know how long has passed when Ophelia calls me again.

“Get up, right now!”

Her voice sounds harsh as I look up, startled. Her face is a blotchy red, eyes full of venom, which means she has been told I am not the one she expects me to be.

I sit up, licking my parched lips. There is no drink in sight, nor the refreshments she promised to bring.

“Get up and get changed.” She points me to a set of plain brown robes, closer to the slave attire than that of lady Lestrange. “His Lordship wants to see you. And then a servant will show you to your bedchamber.”

“Ophelia, look, I am very sorry I didn’t…”

“And you may address me as Lady Ophelia.” She snaps, her eyes turning to slits. “That’s what servants and slaves call me. You better get used to it. And never, ever dare to step in this chamber again.”

*****

I change into the scratchy old robes that Ophelia got for me. It’s a loose smock, barely reaching my ankles, with short sleeves and a tie at the waist to keep it in place. It's made of some rough material, probably from some plant that I do not know of.

“That is a common jute.” Ophelia curls a lip. “Imperial slaves get to wear silk robes, but lowly wannabes like you only get this. You would better get used to it.”

Right. I keep my head low and follow her out of the chamber. Her anger is justified, but I do not know what else is in storage for me. Damien wants to see me. Could this be something to do with Vasili's warning earlier today?

"Why does he want to see me?" I ask as a wave of jitters builds into my nerves. Ophelia ignores me, as if she didn't hear my question.

We walk again through a maze of floors and flights. The castle is vast, and without my wolf’s instinct, I feel lost. Most of my natural strength is gone already and on top of that, hunger and thirst render me useless.

I feel lightheaded, yet Ophelia rushes me like the slave I am. Her dislike is etched on her face like the carvings on the walls. I get cursed every time I fall back. It does not help that the hard leather shoes I am wearing are two sizes small. My toes are squished, hurting with every step.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, we reach a set of mahogany double doors. The door opens and I enter after Ophelia. It’s a massive library, the largest I have seen. The dark aura, tall laden bookshelves and stuffy smell remind me of the library back home, where Damien had appeared the first time, to the shock and surprise of all of us.

That was the day our fates turned. His arrival at my home heralded the invitation to the Triumvirate and the ensuing doom. My heart shudders as we come to a halt in front of an ornate, ancient table.

Damien sits behind it on a high-backed chair, not much different from a throne. His eyes are hooded, face looking pale. Next to him is Otto, standing with a worried look that changes into pure dislike at the sight of me.

“Here’s the slave girl. I do not understand why we cannot just kill her, My Lord. The ungrateful wench must be taught a lesson.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"There is no need for that language, Otto. And I think it's for me to decide what I do with her." Damien's voice is cool as he chastises his servant. "And now, if you are done, you may leave."

Otto grunts, still looking angry.

"As you wish, my lord. Just keep sipping this. It will help you regain strength. " He hands a vial of a potion to Damien. My eyes follow as Damien unscrews the lid to take a hearty sip. Licking his lips, he swipes a finger across his mouth. Unbeknownst to him, a thin streak of dark red stretches across his chin.

It's thick and dark red, something distinct I know only too well. The air tingles with a scent from a fresh kill, reminding me of my days as a free wolf of the forest.

Blood. Fresh, potent, full of vitality. Only this one is not from any wild animal. It’s human blood. Just one sip is enough to replenish your body, bring you back from the brink of death.

My eyes flicker between Damien and the bottle. Why is he drinking it from it when he can easily have a slave to do the honours?

Otto frowns, his scowl etching deeper at my scrutiny.

"Keep your impudent eyes to yourself, girl. Can’t you see what damage you have caused...?"

"Thank you, Otto. Ophelia. You may leave." Damien's cuts him short while I am still trying to understand Otto's meaning. Both Otto and Ophelia shoot me withering glances before making their way out. The room is deserted in no time, leaving me alone with the master of the house.

A slow tremor of terror begins to spread my heart, when Damien points me to a chair.

"Sit."

"Thank you." I take gratefully, not trusting my shaking legs. Damien raises an eyebrow.

"Quite a come-down from the high and mighty she-wolf that rejected me. I must say, it does not suit you to be polite."

"Well, I am not a wolf anymore, nor I am high and mighty. I am a mere slave and at your mercy. There is no need to rub it in." I snap, then bite my lip. I should control my temper. I am in no position to be mouthy unless I want an early grave.

Moreover, I haven't yet forgotten that slap. My cheek still stings with humiliation. "What did you want me for?"

He tilts his head, an amused light flickering in his eyes as if he has an apt retort, but it vanishes the next moment.

"It's about my king's warning. You are not my slave yet. There is one last ritual I must perform to complete the enslavement. It's called the Last Rite."

Last Rite. As in last rites during a funeral?

"It's a ritual to establish a master-slave bond." He leans against his throne, face taking an icy mask. "You werewolves mark your mates and us vampires bite our prey. The Last rite is something in-between. I'll have to mark you to establish my ownership. Without it, the other vampires will not acknowledge you as my slave."

I swallow a dry lump, my body breaking into a cold sweat. Damien watches with no emotion.

"Tonight, the King wants us to perform this ritual in front of the entire court. I would rather not, but I have no choice."

He would rather not? My eyes snap at him.

"What do you mean?"

"The master-slave bond is a bond like any other. It requires some commitment, a promise of good-will towards each other. My other slaves are ordinary humans and the enslaving enchantment ensures the bond is established with mutual consent. With you, it's not the same. You being a werewolf, the enchantment will not work the same on you."

"But your spell caused my wolf to disappear."

"You, as well as I know, your wolf disappeared out of shame. It was a proud wolf and could not take the humiliation of being a slave. That said, your dislike and fear for me is too great for my enchantment to control. I do not think it will work between us. Knowing our history, it will be a waste of my time and energy that I would rather use somewhere else."

Oh. So taking me as a slave is a waste of time. And he clearly has better things to do. What a load of bullshit! He must be dying to sink his teeth in me, and here he sits, looking smug and sanctimonious, telling me he would rather not have me as a slave. What an obnoxious liar!

"Isn't it a bit too late for this?" I bite, pursing my lips. "You already took me as a slave and brought me here. Why go to all these lengths if you cannot stand me?"

I do not understand him. Is this because of the rejection? Did I hurt his ego so much that he does not want anything to do with me? If this was the case, why did he agree to take me as a slave?

"I only did it because my king demanded it. Frankly speaking, I cannot tolerate anyone who harbours such hate towards me as you do. The decision to claim you as my mate too was not mine. It was my king's command. I tried to persuade him, but could not. Not after he heard of your guests. I had to report to him about my visit to Silver Shadows, and he thought the only way to get access to your guests was to invite you all to the Triumvirate."

Ah! So this was all to do with Danny and Olivia. It was the day he came to my home that had decided my fate. There was something about the two girls that everyone was after them. The witches, the vampires, the rogues plaguing our lands. The more I think, the lesser it makes sense. Those two girls are normal wolves, as proved by them shifting on the night of the festival.

The memory of Danny makes my heart ache. I hope Adam has found her. If not alive, then dead. My friend at least deserves a proper funeral.

"Did you want Danny as your mate?" The sudden thought zaps my brain. That day, when Damien saw Danny in our library, he tried to bite her. Had Adam not arrived in time... A pang of an acute pain rips my heart. I cannot place it. My mind is in shambles, trying to make sense. "Is that why you tried to bite her that day? To mark her as your mate?"

Damien shrugs. "Not as my mate. No. I have long ago forsaken any hope of a mate. It was just a mild surprise when you appeared on the horizon, but I had no intention of ever claiming you. When you have lived alone as long as I have, you do not need anyone. However, I got curious when I saw Diane. She...reminded me of someone. I got a bit carried away and..." He sighs, looking aloof, lost in some deep thoughts. "Luckily your brother arrived in time to save her, so no harm was done. And that should have been it but then Vasili got the wind of your guests."

The room is silent and all I hear is my the dead-beat of my heart. Damien's silver head is tilted, his eyes on my face. A chill seeps through them, bringing goosebumps to my skin.

"So be ready for tonight. I'll ask Ophelia to help you."

I fall silent, licking my parched lips. Sweat gathers on my forehead and my feet feel like jelly. I still have lots of questions, but it is futile to ask. Nothing is going to change the outcome.

My heart sinks. So this is it. Damien wanted nothing to do with me. It was on Vasilis's orders that he claimed me as his mate, and it was on his orders that he took me as a slave. A thousand year old vampire like him, who has lived this long without a mate, does not need one anyway. And he has plenty of slaves without needing one like me just to add to the numbers.

"So tonight you will mark me as your slave. A slave you would rather not have and cannot stand to be in the same house as you."

"That is correct." Damien's silver head is tilted, his eyes on my face. A chill seeps through them, bringing goosebumps to my skin.

"And you can't just... let me go?"

"Let you go where?"

"Away. Out of this place, back to my home? Seeing as you cannot stand me, isn't that the obvious option?"

He sighs, shaking his head.

"I cannot, unless you want to be killed and destroy your pack. Because that is what Vasili will do if I let you go."

"And you want to avoid it because...?"

"I want to avoid unnecessary loss of life. I have seen enough death in my thousand years, some of them my own family. I would not like an ancient pack like Silver Shadows to be ruined just because of a thoughtless young woman. You have already caused enough havoc, destroying the Triumvirate treaty and the hard earned peace of generations. Hundreds are already dead. I cannot give in to the whims of a whiny and immature child, which will cause only more destruction."

Child. Did he call me a child? A whiny and immature child? My brain buzzes with weird anger. How dare he!

Damien huffs, tapping on the wood of the table with his long fingers.

"So letting you go is out of the question. However, I can offer you another alternative."

An alternative? My eyes widen as I sit up straight. Did he mean I have another option?

"I would like to offer you a choice. Considering you already rejected me once, it should not be a problem."

I ignore the latter part of his statement. "What choice?"

"Reject me once again in front of the court. Tell Vasili you cannot be with someone like me." He gives me a calm look, as if he was suggesting the most innocent thing in the world. I watch him, flabbergasted.

"Reject you again? And how will it help? Will it not have the same consequences as you stated before?"

"It won't." Damien pushes the chair to stand up. Pulling out Otto's bottle, he takes a sip, draining the liquid in one go. The tangy smell of blood fills the air again.

He wipes his mouth, giving me a look. For the first time since I came here, I notice his grey pallor.

"Tell him you want another master. Someone younger, better than me. There are some, newly converted and less vicious, who would be willing to take you. That will rid you of me, and I'll be rid of you. I am a former elf and will respect your choice. The last thing I want is to keep anyone here against their wishes."

***** *****