Prey

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Running

I couldn't believe what had just happened.

I'd been so relieved to learn that the vampire wasn't dead and I wasn't going to be punished, that I'd hugged him.

What a fool I was. I didn't even think about the cut on my hand when I saw he was okay, I was just so relieved.

Then his eyes had changed and he'd almost broken my wrist to suck the blood there. When he wasn't able to get what he wanted from the cut he bit into my arm, his fangs ripping though skin and muscle to get to my veins.

I hit him, I kicked him, I screamed and begged him to stop, but he wouldn't. He just kept drinking, sucking painfully on my arm.

Just as suddenly as he attacked, he let me go, falling away from me onto his backside.

Pressing a wad of mattress stuffing to my arm I watched as the vampire licked my blood from his lips, bile rising in my throat.

Shock and anger warred in my mind for control.

Seeing that the cage door was still open I took a chance and ran.

I almost made it to the door before a band of iron gripped my waist, lifting me off the floor.

"Let me go," I screamed, my arms and legs flailing as I tried to get away,

"Stop," the vampire hissed in my ear as his other arm snaked around my arms pinning them to my sides.

Hearing the threat in his tone I stopped struggling, knowing I didn't have a chance against a vampire who'd just fed.

Going limp, I let my master carry me back to my cage for punishment.

Instead of throwing me back in my cage, the vampire took me towards a corner of the room set up like a living room, with two armchairs and a plush looking sofa.

"I'm going to release you," he said into my ear, "when I do, I want you to sit down, and sit still. We need to talk."

"Do you understand?" he asked when I didn't answer.

Nodding, I waited for him to let me go.

Once freed I did as I was told, sitting on the ground next to the sofa.

"Not there," he said, irritated, reaching down and grabbing my arm. "I meant the sofa. Are you stupid or something?"

Seeing the hurt in my face, the vampire looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said, pointing to the place I was to sit.

Leaving me alone, my master went to the bathroom and returned with a washcloth and a bowl of soapy water.

Kneeling in front of me he held out his had for mine.

"Please," he said, his face showing no anger, only sincerity, "let me see your hand."

Knowing there was no other choice I gave him my hand.

Gently, he took my hand and cleaned my injuries. Once done, he then licked across the surface of my palm. He did the same with my wrist and my scabbed up knees. Almost instantly the sounds began to scab over and heal as if by magic

When he was done he returned his supplies to the bathroom before returning to sit on the coffee table in front of me.

"I think we should talk," he said, looking me in the face.

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