Enemy Of The Stake

Chapter 1

My legs sat crossed underneath me on my bed. My blanket was thrown on the floor, the summer heat keeping me warm. I stared down at the book open on my lap. I attempted to keep myself entertained, but really I've just been rereading the same page for the past hour because of a lack of concentration. I really should just give up and watch TV instead.

I shut the book closed in frustration, feeling immediate regret as I realized I had forgotten to bookmark the page I had left off on. "Dammit" I swore to myself, placing the book on my side table, and the old crumpled receipt I used as a bookmark on top of it. I'll find the page in a few months' time when I eventually attempt to fill my schedule with more meaningless tasks. 

I stood up, stretching my hands above my head. The only physical exercise I've done all day. I reached my arms over to the lamp on my side table, switching on the light to fill my darkening room with extra illumination. The sun was still slightly visible on the bottom of the horizon. 

I checked my watch, and the screen read 9:12 PM. Now would be a great time to get something to eat, before the others could return to find me shame eating chocolate mousse in the kitchen again.

I swung my legs off of the bed, my toes brushing against the cream carpeting of my bedroom floor as I headed toward my door. My fingers reached for the handle, beginning to turn it, when my ears perked up. Footsteps. They were light, barely noticeable. But they were there. Footsteps that I definitely did not recognize.

Before I even had time to release the handle from my already loose grip, the door was shoved open, breaking it off the hinges and sending me flying into the wall.

I hit it back first, the wind immediately leaving my lungs, a burning sensation replacing the smoothness of oxygen. A man's voice filled my ears. "Ah, so this is your bedroom. I expected much more honestly. God the rich have horrid taste." His voice dripped spoiled honey, as he stood over me, watching me struggle to get air to enter my system.

"You do realize on most scales you would be considered rich, correct?" Another voice spoke, this one purely feminine. 

I wrestled with the pain, trying to fight to lift my head, as my eyes landed on a woman with golden blonde hair slowly entering my now doorless room. "Yes, but not on this scale." The man spoke again. His hands gestured around the room. He gave off the feeling of utter casualty like they didn't break into my home and send me flying through my bedroom.

The woman's eyes turned to me, meeting mine, her dark blue orbs sending chills through my bloodstream.

"No, certainly not." She said simply. Her long legs carried her closer to my body, which struggled to be of any help to me at this current moment.

She looked like a model more than a monster. Her hair was tied up, and her cheekbones lay high on her thin face.

No makeup appeared to be present, and yet she still looked to be ready for the runway at a moment's notice. Her thin but strong frame was clad in a tight black shirt and matching pants.

At a quick glance, you'd think she was heading to a spin class downtown, but her eyes told of the true danger she was capable of.

"Exactly who we were looking for." The man spoke, his dark eyes now looking at my crumbled body.

He appeared older than the woman, but truly it was impossible to know. She could possibly be decades or even hundreds of years older than him. There was no way to tell.

His hair was dark, with flecks of grey being hit by the light of my lamp, which surprisingly remained unbroken. He was fairly muscular, not like a bodybuilder, but definitely like someone who values the gym. He probably never actually went though, unless there was one in his home. He gave off the essence of being above exercising around others.