Blood Bound by R.J. Blain

Author:R.J. Blain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pen & Page Publishing

I dreamed of violet eyes gleaming in the dark.

Great. The last thing I needed was to be dreaming about Emerick Lowrance and his flashy, pretty eyes. At the rate I was going, I’d need a long-term stay at an asylum. There was nothing sane about me dreaming about the damned vampire and liking it, especially when said vampire had flattened me on a rooftop and dragged me into his lair.

Then, because sanity wasn’t one of my strong points, I’d decided to like my unexpected stay in the damned vampire’s lair.

The bed was to blame. The bed would be the end of me, as it was soft, warm, comfortable, and everything I looked for when I wanted to snuggle in and enjoy a good nap. Why couldn’t I have made a career out of napping?

Napping seemed like a good way to spend the rest of my life, with my waking hours occupied soaking in Emerick’s tub.

I cracked open an eye and determined I was alone in Emerick’s bedroom. To my dismay, I was still wearing the clothes from the night before, which meant the cozy sheets would need a thorough cleaning, as would the duvet. On the other hand, my unchanged attire earned him a few points, as he could’ve easily made me put on a show for his amusement while I’d slept, completely oblivious to his activities.

I needed to find someone and get an appointment to a doctor

Did old vampires need to sleep? Unless I learned how to resist sleeping after the sun rose, I wouldn’t know for certain. Yawning, I sat up, checking the room for any changes. A change of clothes waited on the dresser, as did a bottle of Wagyu blood. I wrinkled my nose at it, but I got up, grabbed it, popped it open, and drank it down.

Compared to Emerick’s blood, drinking Wagyu reminded me of attempting to choke down coffee left in the pot all day, leaving a bitter aftertaste in its wake along with a disgruntled stomach. As disgruntled beat thirsty, I dealt with it. I refused to be considered uncouth and unmannered, I carried the bottle and its cork to the kitchen, rinsing it in the sink before placing it in the bin marked for recycling used blood bottles. I wondered if the bottles, much like my collection of stakes, possessed some form of magic. Then again, Emerick did seem like the type to be frugal while also dabbling with the trappings the wealthy enjoyed.

Without anything else to do, I explored the penthouse, discovering my collection of stakes in one of the upper drawers of Emerick’s dresser, along with a lot of interesting accessories I assumed were meant for hunting and dispatching miscreant vampires. The belt with stake holders appealed, as did the leather leggings and tight-fitted blouse. The dark-colored clothes suited me better than a ball gown, and I bet the whole outfit could be worn beneath one of the oversized dresses without being noticed. I changed, pleased with how well

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