Stolen Submission

This is a teaser to see if this is worth writing. If you enjoy it and would like more, let me know!

Madison McKinley: Human, 21, Orphan, Boston Ma.

Sinclair: Vamp, 50 turned 25. Born in France, relocated to Ireland. Former Blood Slave turned by Vamp Queen, now the scout for new slaves. Still a young vamp.

Treasigh O’Riain-High King of Ireland Vamps: Goes by Trey O'Ryan. 400 turned 30.

Cold, often cruel, runs a large clan, has a castle, typical vamp behavior, unprepared for being told no. Married to:

Queen Caitriona Ni Shea- Goes by Kate O’Ryan 390 turned 25.

Petty, vain, snobbish.

Time made their marriage very ugly. She was 15 when they wed, and he was 25 (not a horrifying age gap for 400 years ago.)

He was turned first when he was 30 and she was 20. He waited until he had learned control over his bloodlust and would be safe around their children before turning her. She was 25. They had three children.

Almost 400 years of being a vampire has destroyed their humanity, they behave in a typical vampire fashion: Entitled, hot-tempered, demanding, cruel, sexual, blood thirsty, manipulative, clever, and rich.

Just a few of the key characters. Enjoy!

Madison

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” My smile was probably forced, but it had been a long shift, and I was ready to go home.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Keith asked, like he did most nights.

“Nah, I’m a big girl now.” I replied and gave him a little wave.

Keith was my boss and the owner of the Irish pub called Brady’s. He was a nice enough guy, in his mid-thirties with a bit of a dad bod but not totally out of shape; I was fairly certain he had a crush on me, and I didn’t want to give him any false hope that the feelings were returned.

I didn’t wait for his reply; he was used to me rejecting his advances and was always a good sport about it.

It had started snowing during my shift, and the sidewalks were slippery. Thankfully, my studio apartment wasn’t far from the pub, it usually took me less than ten minutes to get home. With the snow and wearing my thigh-high heels, I would need to go slower. The cold was already seeping through my clothes, and I wished I had worn jeans to work instead of opting for my faux leather leggings and crop top. At least I had remembered to grab my puffy winter jacket.

Something you should know about me before you hear the rest of this story is that I am cursed. Not just me, but my whole family line. I know it sounds crazy… but by the time I’m done, you’ll believe me. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side the night that my life was stolen from me.

I was almost to my apartment when I heard a strange noise from behind me. I spun around to look just as I stepped onto a patch of black ice. Next thing I knew, my feet were sliding out from under me, my head cracked off the pavement, and I saw stars and struggled to make my diaphragm work. As I laid there, flat on my back, snow melting into my clothes, I asked myself why the universe hated me so. As usual, the universe was silent, but to my surprise, a man’s face appeared right over mine. As cliché as it sounds, this wasn’t just any man’s face… this man looked like he’d stepped right off a French runway. He had a strong jawline that was covered in well-trimmed stubble, high cheekbones, and his dark hair flopped over his forehead as his gorgeous ice-blue eyes stared down at me with concern.

“Are you alright?” one of his big hands touched my cheek. “Let me help you up, petit oiseau.”

I felt my eyebrows furrow as I tried to understand what he was saying.

Was that… French? Where the hell did he come from?

“I-I’m alright.” I gasped as my lungs were finally able to fill with air. “Just knocked the air out of myself.”

“Slow!” he used a commanding tone, but his face remained concerned. “Sit up slowly.”

He watched me as I slowly got to my feet and held on to my arm while he waited to see if I was steady.

“Those shoes are not meant for walking.” He smirked as he eyed my footwear. I glanced at his outfit and understood why he was judging me. He was wearing black tactical boots that clashed with his long wool peacoat, a thick dark neck scarf, and black leather gloves, but looked warm and sensible for the circumstances.

“They’re meant for tips,” I grumbled. My head was starting to pound, and I was sure that I would have an egg on it in the morning. “Thank you for your help but I’m almost home.”

I started to take a step but wobbled on my heels.

“Let me help you.” He held me steady, “you hit your head pretty hard.”

I nodded and pointed to the building just ahead. “That’s my building. If you can get me on the elevator, I’ll be fine.”

The man helped me up the rest of the way and into the lobby, where our doorman was lounging in a chair.

He jumped to his feet when he saw us.

“Guests need to sign in.” he said quickly and produced a sign in sheet.

“He’s not a guest, Frank, I fell down and he’s helping me get inside.”

“Are you okay Miss McKinley?” Frank shot the man a strange look. “I can help her from here.”

“That’s quite alright, I truly don’t mind.” The man’s voice was smooth and left no room for argument, but didn’t feel threatening. “It’s not everyday a man gets to play hero.”

“Can I at least get a first name…” Frank pushed.

“Sinclair.” The man supplied without hesitation.

“The elevator is just ahead.” I started to pull away from the handsome stranger.

“Allow me.” He murmured and lifted me into his arms.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, uncomfortable with being carried.

“Floor?”

“She’s on the fourth floor.” Frank supplied helpfully. He’d apparently gotten over his initial distrust for the man.

“Sinclair, put me down.” I grumbled as the elevator doors closed.

“Eager to fly, petite oiseau?”

“What does that mean?”

“Little bird.”

Why was he calling me little bird? Maybe it was a French thing…

“Which apartment is yours?” He asked as the doors opened.

“I can get there from here, thank you.” I was starting to feel very uncomfortable with how bossy the man was. He had managed to push his way past every boundary I set, and I didn’t want him inside my apartment.

He smirked at me and stepped into the hallway, still carrying me.

“4D,” I snapped.

“Feisty…” he chuckled, “It’s good.”

Ok. This guy is fucking weird.

“I want you to put me down. Now.” I tried to sound authoritative and squirmed in his arms.

“Key?”

“Sinclair, put me down.” I raised my voice.

“As soon as you show me that you didn’t drop your key in the snow.” He gently placed me on my feet and took a large step back. I eyed him cautiously and then released a long sigh and pulled my key out of my bra.

“I’m good. Thank you, again, for your help.” I waited for him to leave, but he just stood there. He tilted his head to one side and continued to stare.

I gulped and turned just enough to put the key in the door without turning my back to him.

“Goodnight.” I said firmly as the door unlocked.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of my small living room, and Sinclair was sliding the deadbolt into place. I opened my mouth to scream, and before I could blink, he was looming over me with his hand firmly over my mouth.

“Now Madison, why would you go and ruin what has been a perfectly pleasant interaction?” he tsked and shook his head as if he was disappointed in me. His eyes had a reddish ring around the ice blue, and it was the freakiest thing I had ever seen.

Who is this guy?

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to remove my hand, and you aren’t going to scream.” He paused as if waiting for me to agree. I scoffed under his hand and mumbled something about how he was fucking nuts. He rolled his eyes. “Now you are forcing me to sound cliché… we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way… either way we will be doing this my way.”

Yup… cliché.

“Back to your options. If you chose option a) I will remove my hand, you will pack some of your favorite belongings in an overnight back and we will leave. We will tell lazy Frank that you’ve decided to get checked out and my driver will pick us up out front.” He paused again, and when I didn’t make a sound, he growled. It wasn’t like a typical man’s angry sound… Sinclair’s growl was animalistic and sent shivers down my spine. “Option b) I gag you,” he started counting the steps with his fingers, “tie you up, throw some essentials in a bag, kill Frank, and then my driver will pick us up out front.”

I gasped and tried to step back, but he didn’t let me budge.

“Which option, Madison? I’m running out of patience.”

I didn’t want to cooperate, but I also didn’t want him to kill Frank. Maybe I could escape once we were down in the lobby?

“Option a” my voice was muffled through his hand, but he heard me and nodded.

“You scream… he dies. You run… he dies. You fight… I whip your ass… he dies.” He removed his hand slowly and watched me carefully.

“What is wrong with you?” I whispered.

“Me? Nothing. Everything is going according to plan.” He smiled, and it didn’t reach his creepy eyes.

“Why do your eyes look like that?”

“I’ll answer your questions later.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a couple of times. “Bring the car around in five.” He pocketed the phone and then shooed me towards the rest of the apartment. “Stuff… pack… now.”