Caitlyn

The skin on her ankle broke again as she tried to remove the restraints that kept her bound to this prison. The scent of copper in the air caused the monster inside her to lunge to the forefront of her mind, demanding to be fed. He tended to only feed her when she succumbed to the Hunger and gave the man who had turned her exactly what he wanted—utter obedience.

Despite her weakened state, Caitlyn continued to yank at the iron cuff. Others would have said it was futile, a wasted attempt to free herself. But Caitlyn knew the day she gave up entirely would be the day the last spark of humanity burned inside of her. He’d tried for almost a year to make her his, yet the fact that she bucked against everything he was tended to amuse him.

Ignoring the sharp pain as the iron cuff grazed her broken skin, Caitlyn sank down onto the elegant four-poster bed. She was dressed simply in a silky, red-laced chemise, specifically picked out by her master because he said he loved how the red made the cream of her skin so biteable. Caitlyn did not see it; when she looked in a mirror, all that peered back at her was a young woman with eyes sunken from hunger, hollow cheeks, and skin as pale as death itself.

The room itself gave the impression of a lover’s room. Take away the cuff and it could have been a room meant to share with her husband—before she had become one of the undead, of course. Luxurious drapes of the finest material hung in waves, blocking out the sunlight. The room lived in perpetual darkness, only illuminated by the flicker of a sparse few candles. An antique dressing table, wardrobe, and chest of drawers lay out of reach from Caitlyn, her chain having been shortened after she’d broken off a piece of wood and attempted to stake herself.

The bed sprawled out in an elaborate curve like a sleigh, and it was large enough to sleep several bodies at once. Sometimes, when she bucked against him on stronger days, he would take multiple lovers to bed and make her sleep alongside him afterwards, the scents of his lovers mingling with his own as he curved his body around hers. Caitlyn’s skin crawled on those occasions, unable to sleep as she offered consolation to her mind by ruminating on the many ways in which she wanted to end his reign of tyranny.

Her ears twitched as graceful, purposeful steps came down the hallway. She gave a yank at her chain, wincing ever so slightly at the burn, and stood up so that he did not spy her atop the silken sheets and get any ideas. The door opened, and the monster with the face of an angel, the monster who had taken Caitlyn’s soul from her, came into view. His handsome features and eyes of endless black came alive under the flickering of the flames. The aura that surrounded him, the scent of seduction that brought men and women to their knees in praise of him, made the monster in her want to strip bare for him and be taken; yet the human she had once been, strong and wilful, refused to allow that monster to be set free.

He stood before her, a single red rose held between his fingers. A shiver ghosted over her spine. He did this when he planned to be especially cruel. Caitlyn lifted her head and held his gaze despite the sense of doom in her stomach. He smiled then, an evil, sinister smile that usually meant death. Short of getting on her knees and begging him to kill her, Caitlyn knew he would never let her go.

“My rose, how ravishing you look this eve.”

His words were husky with lust, spoken in her native tongue. The last time he had tried to take her, she had clawed at his face and fought so hard she’d managed to draw blood. He had beaten her senseless after, and as she lay broken and bloody, he had kissed her cheek and professed his love. He always claimed to love her, that she made him hurt her because she refused to admit she loved him too.

When she did not reply, his smile darkened even further. He came to stand in front of her, running the rose’s petals across her lips. He pressed down harder and thorns scored her cheek. Setting the rose down atop the bed, he grasped her face in his hands and licked the blood from her cheek. Caitlyn shuddered, half in revulsion, half in lust.

“And here I came offering you a chance to be free of this room for an eve. Come dine with your family and take your place as my consort. I have given you a long leash, my rose. No more. You will do as I request.”

He clapped his hands together and a stream of vampires entered the room. Caitlyn quirked her brow, and her captor chuckled. “They are here to protect you, my rose, for fear that you may hurt yourself in a feeble attempt to escape. I would not see you harmed.”

“Then let me go or kill me. Either way, I’ll be free of you.”

The vampires surrounding her froze, shocked at her being so outspoken against the one they viewed as a god. They worshipped this monster and could not understand why she refused to.

“I love you too much to let you go, Caitlyn. Can you not see how much distress it causes me when you do not see that all I have done is for us? I want you to be my queen and rule the vampires like we were meant to.”

Caitlyn let free a hysterical burst of laughter. “The only person you love is yourself. I will never be yours completely. And even if you have your way, a part of you will always wonder if I am thinking of you or of someone who actually held my heart.”

The slap was expected, yet the sickening thud of Caitlyn hitting the ground, her foot pulling on her chains as she fell, caused her to cry out in pain. She hardly had time to recover before he had her in his arms, whispering apologies and murmurs of affection in her ear. It lasted about a second before he rose to his feet again, ordering his cult to do his bidding.

Removing her shackles, four strong and well-fed vampires latched onto her arms and hauled her out of the room behind their leader. They dragged her down the hallway, the scents and sounds of the great hall coming to meet her even before they hurried into the room, following their lord and master. He draped himself over his throne as his minions chained her to the foot of it. Caitlyn, who had been raised to only expose herself to her husband, bristled under the mortification of being almost nude in front of so many vampires.

He stroked her hair, then fisted his hand in it and lifted her up by the hair until he was able to sit her astride him in the chair. Her spine locked, Caitlyn remaining as still as she could, while he caressed her in places meant only for the bedroom. Vampires continued their merriment, drinking freely from humans and engaging in sexual acts that made Caitlyn wish she could turn her head away from it.

“I have a special treat for you, my rose, to show you just how much I love you.”

The doors to the hall opened again, and Markus, his right-hand vampire, brought another victim into the hall. Caitlyn’s eyes opened in horror as she cried out, “Père!”

Her father was tossed down in front of her, and she scrambled off the monster’s lap and knelt in front of her weeping father. Reaching out, her father stopped shy of touching her, shocked that his only daughter, whom he thought had perished, was there before his eyes.

“How is this, my daughter, that you are here among the monsters?”

“He has made me as such, Père. Forgive me!” she implored him, the man who had raised her long after her mother’s death from childbirth.

Eyes of complete sadness looked back at her. “There is nothing to forgive, my little one. Nothing at all.”

Caitlyn embraced her father, knowing that he had not been brought here to walk out alive.

The master of her misery rose and came down to their level. “Do you see how much I love you? I brought your father here so that you would not be alone. You will make him one of us; this is my gift to you.”

Caitlyn shook her head with vigour. “Non, please. I will do anything you wish if you let him go. Wipe his mind and set him free. I will be yours; I avow it.”

“You either make him part of our family or you kill him, my rose. There is no third option.” He went back to sitting on his throne, every vampire in the hall now waiting and watching Caitlyn with anticipation.

It was an impossible decision to make, but Caitlyn did not think twice about it. Grazing her lips against her beloved father’s brow, tears streaking down her face, Caitlyn asked for forgiveness again, and her father nodded. Caitlyn sank her fangs into her father’s neck and drank until his heartbeat slowed. Ripping her fangs from his throat, she roared in agony as she reached out with her hands and twisted, snapping his neck with a bone-crunching sound. In case she had been tricked, Caitlyn—strengthened by her father’s blood—separated his head from his shoulders with a quick yank, ensuring he would stay dead.

Pulled up by her hair once more, he kissed her, snaking his tongue inside her mouth and licking the remnants of her father from her lips. It was then and there that Caitlyn succumbed to the evil inside herself. The last of her humanity died alongside her father, and she was nothing—a ghost of who she used to be. The monster inside her took hold, and she kissed him back.

---

Caitlyn stifled a cry as she scrambled over the edge of the bed and dry heaved, the memory of her nightmare lingering inside her mind. She tried to calm herself, afraid that she would wake Melanie. Goodness knows the poor girl needed her rest—the tight grip she had on her control was draining for a newly made vampire.

On occasions when the nightmares had become too much for her to bear, Caitlyn had staggered from her room and slipped soundlessly into Donnie’s room. Without so much as a word, he’d lifted the covers, pulling her against his body once she’d lain down on the bed.

But she had chased him away. No longer could she fight against her fears knowing that Donnie could keep away the demons of her past if she could not. Caitlyn understood it was her own fault, that perhaps Donnie indeed would be better off without her. The sanctuary of her bedroom felt like a prison, suffocating her until she could not stand it any longer.

Not a sound did her footsteps make as she padded down the stairs and into Donnie’s room. It still smelled of him; all masculine musk and wind. She scolded herself for being there, especially when she had no right to be. She lived a lonely life, forced to hide her emotions for fear of letting her maker’s spies know that she might indeed care for someone when she had failed to care for him. Only Donnie, who occasionally managed to slip inside her mind and catch a glimpse at how much she longed to be as free and as open as Melanie, knew the depths of her sorrow.

Even Ever, who Caitlyn still thought might be an angel, had gained some insight into Caitlyn, giving her the impression Ever was wise beyond her years. During one of their conversations, Ever had said to her, “I think that you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.”

And maybe Ever was right. Because if any of them had known the strong-willed, easy-to-laugh, affectionate young woman Caitlyn had been when she was alive, then the person she was now to keep those she cared for safe might not exist.

The bed was cold to the touch as she ran her fingers across the duvet covered in comic book characters. Melanie had bought it for Donnie in jest after one of their many discussions about comics. He had grinned that day and refused to take it off, only doing so when it needed a freshening up.

It brought a smile to her lips, thinking of the man who had stayed by her side for nearly twenty years despite her attempts to shoo him away. Spying a faded Munster jersey resting on the fireside chair where Donnie occasionally read, Caitlyn stripped off her comfortable pyjamas and donned the jersey, feeling as if Donnie were here, his arms around her, chasing away her nightmares.

She slipped into the bed, resting her head against the pillow on Donnie’s side of the bed, closed her eyes, and fell into a contented sleep. She did not dream and would have slept like the dead till morning had a prickling on her senses not alerted her that she was no longer alone in the bedroom.

Leaping up with a hiss, she braced for attack until she spotted who stood just inside the door. His hair had grown out a little longer, and stubble traced along his handsome face. His holdall was slung over his shoulder as Donnie stood, his eyes roaming over her. Remembering that she was wearing his jersey, Caitlyn would have blushed if she’d still been alive.

“You’re back.”

“I am.”

They stared at each other for another minute before Donnie asked, “Nightmares?”

She stood as vulnerable as she ever could have been, dressed in this man’s clothes, sleeping in his bed, and she gave him the honesty he deserved. “Oui. I dreamt of the night I killed my father—when I cast my emotions aside and became a monster. I just needed to feel something good, so I came here.”

She made to slink by him, but his hand on her arm stopped Caitlyn in her tracks. “Don’t go, Cait. Stay here. I’ll crash in one of the spare rooms.”

“Stay with me,” Caitlyn heard herself say. “Even if just for today.”

“Cait,” Donnie sighed as he removed his hand from her arm. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

After a brief second, Caitlyn retreated into herself. “Of course. Forgive me. I shall see you this evening.”

Donnie swore a blue streak and nudged her towards the bed. She went because it was what she wanted, as selfish as it was.

She lay down in the bed and waited as Donnie tossed his holdall down and stripped off his T-shirt. The bed creaked as he lowered himself onto it. When Donnie didn’t move for a few minutes, Caitlyn shifted to cuddle up to his side.

Caitlyn felt him exhale and, suddenly self-conscious, made an attempt to turn away, but Donnie slid his arm underneath her head before she could go. They lay there together in silence as the seconds ticked by.

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” Donnie replied with an edge to his voice.

She traced her fingers across his chest. “You never were a good liar, Donnie. Too honest a face.”

“I don’t want to fucking spoil this by telling you what’s going on. Can we, just for today, pretend that it’s just us?”

Caitlyn didn’t press him for an answer. Whispering, she said, “Do you know, in French, you do not say ‘I miss you’? Instead, you say ‘Tu me manques’.”

Resting his chin on top of her head, Donnie asked her what it meant.

“It translates to ‘you are missing from me.’ That is what the last month has felt like. You have been missing from me.”

“Christ, Cait, is this because of the nightmare? Will you go back to normal tomorrow?”

“I simply felt compelled to tell you. I can’t make any promises. I do not know how to be any other way.”

She clung to him, knowing that he could be the one to set her free. It was not her sire who had absolute power over her, it was the vampire lying next to her. Donnie had the ability to crush her, to destroy the fragile sense of self she had built up over time, and Caitlyn did not think she could ever let herself be that vulnerable again.

“And I feel compelled to tell you how fucking sexy you look in my Munster jersey.”

He chuckled then, and she knew that, for today anyway, he would hold her. Perhaps they could give it a try—take it slowly and keep it a secret until she was strong enough to kill the bastard who’d made her. Once he was dead, the weight she bore would be gone, and she would be free—free to love, free to live, free to be who she wanted to be.

Until then she would lie in the arms of the man she thought she could love if she had the freedom to do so.

Sleep came to claim Donnie; she could tell by the faint snore coming from his oft broken nose. Safe in the knowledge that he was sleeping, Caitlyn pressed her lips against his chest.

“If I had the freedom to love, then I would love you, Donnie. If I had the freedom to be loved, then I would wish to only be loved by you.”

Allowing her eyes to close, she inhaled the scent of him, comforting her until, like him, she succumbed to tiredness and slept a dreamless sleep.