A Slave to Love, Broken Hearts, and Everything In Between

Chapter 7: Sinbad and Robin Revisited

Slave to Love, Chapter 3: Sinbad and Robin -- Blade POV

Dread prickled down my spine. I hated these damn feasts. Hated that they existed, hated my participation, hated the lot of vampires who encouraged them and attended them with all the regularity of a cigar club.

Sure, I went just as often, but it wasn't because I fucking wanted too. It blew my mind that anyone would, especially this sheer number. Being here always turned my stomach, filled me with dread and anxiety for days that I was always on the cusp of giving up and cancelling and never coming back. But it was better to be up at night leading up to it, dreading going, than to be up at night afterwards regretting the fact that one more girl got hurt because I wasn't there to do something about it.

The summer air was warm and the sky was a blanket of darkness, the torchlight hiding all the stars and casting the edges of the forest in inky darkness like there was nothing in existence between our circle of firelight and rich revelers. We were, in many ways, worlds apart from everyone else.

At first glance this seemed like a rather high brow society party, all wine glasses and expensive fashion and smooth running wait staff catering to every whim. Yet just beyond the gossiping masses lay the main event, the reason we were all here, the true horror behind all the glittering party goers.

But we weren't there quite yet. That would come later. For now, we were meant to mingle and enjoy the conversation and ambience.

I hovered on the outskirts of the group of revelers with a long stemmed glass of blood, mostly to give myself the illusion of belonging and the appearance that I was doing something besides standing like an awkward statue alone until the damn feast got started and I was needed elsewhere.

"Hello, Blade," a woman said, slinking up to me from out of the crowd like we were old lovers. I'd seen her face before, she often came to these parties, which was exactly why I avoided her at all costs. I was here for my own reasons, but I didn't care to give anyone else the benefit of the doubt when it came to their participation in these disgusting fucking things and I had no interest getting close to anyone like that. Not even for a night. 

Didn't stop anyone from trying to get me to change my mind though. 

I nodded a greeting, sipping my glass of blood to steel me for this evening and keep my mouth busy as an excuse not to talk to her.

"No Mona tonight?" she inquired, standing next to me at the edge of the dance floor. She asked this every time. The only person who knew I came to these--outside of the people who were here themselves--was Ace and even then we never discussed it. I certainly wasn't going to tell Mona about it and it was absolutely none of her fucking business anyway. The less Mona knew about me the better.

"No," I answered, just like every other time. 

"Pity," she said, lips pulling back in a smile that betrayed her words. It was the same old script as usual and I was so damn sick of it.

I shifted my weight, waiting for Aros to finally announce the beginning of this thing so I could hurry up and get the hell out of here. The days leading up to this had sped by, but now that I was here time was crawling along like an animal with a broken leg desperate for mercy. 

"My husband didn't come with me tonight," she continued, like I wasn't blatantly giving her all the signs to fuck off. She never seemed to take the hint, either that or she was convinced she would wear me down eventually if only she kept trying. 

I hummed something unintelligible, eyes scanning the crowd and finding the usual faces and some new ones. It always disturbed me that vampires brought along humans, either their conduits or pets or lovers or some poor victim at the wrong place at the wrong time. Expecting them to sit here and stand by while their fellow humans were exploited only a few feet away, and only the vaguest of circumstances kept them from following the same fate. At least for the moment. 

Even more sickening was when the humans here genuinely seemed to enjoy being here, like they found themselves apart from the others who were here against their will, like they were better than them somehow for being guests instead of hostages.

"Perhaps afterwards we could get together for a drink, catch up since it's been so long," she said, her hand curling around my arm now. 

Catch up on what? We were nothing to each other. She talked, I pretended to listen, and then we went our separate ways. Her to enjoy her victim and me to try and stomach this situation and make the best of it, then to go home and have nightmares for the next several weeks.

The music cut off, drawing everyone's attention as Aros stepped up onto a dais to make the announcement. Thank fuck. I'd never been so relieved for his presence before in my life. 

Aros did his usual spiel. Blood feasts were a tradition that went back centuries, our ancestors pioneered them, great honors, blah fucking blah. It was all a ton of horseshit and it went on for far too long, but everyone seemed to hang on his every word as if they mattered. A few ridiculously inappropriate attempts at humor that drew titters from the crowd, rewarded by a wink from Aros, and then he raised his hands up and announced it had officially begun. 

Those of us who were here to participate headed in the direction of the tent, the others lingering with envy in their eyes on the floor. There were hierarchies even here, hidden in the darkest shadows of our world. Only those with the greatest titles and deepest pockets were allowed to participate, even here among the glittering masses.

"Finally," the woman said, dragging me along by the arm. I yanked my arm out of her reach and though irritation flared in her eyes, it was gone in a flash and replaced by a coy smile, like this was simply another part of our game instead of yet another rejection she was ignoring. Lucky for her, I couldn't afford to cause a scene and get kicked out. "See you afterwards?"

"No," I said, as always. When my part was done I didn't linger. I made a swift exit to find distraction and forget about what I'd seen and heard, I didn't stand around after swapping stories about how it had gone and how much fun I'd had or complaints about how the crop this time had been subpar.

"We'll see," she said, undeterred. The more resistance I put up the more she seemed to find it a challenge, but I had no desire to even pretend to be interested to keep her away. There was only so much revulsion I could stomach on one night and I had nothing left for this woman who didn't deserve one drop of attention or energy. My attention was focused solely on the tent behind her and what unfortunate girl was waiting in there for me.

I lagged behind the eager guests making their way to the tent, unable to help needing the extra moment to brace myself for what would be a long night.

Tonight was even more suffocating than usual. The summer solstice had made the affair bigger than normal and drew a larger crowd and therefore a larger pool of women had plucked off the streets from their daily lives to be here tonight.  It only made my presence here even more pathetic. What was I hoping to achieve? One girl might get out of here unscathed compared to the dozens more brought on for a bigger celebration? It wasn't even a drop in the bucket. It was pointless. 

Yet I couldn't stop myself from being here anyway.

We didn't talk about it much, but there had been one night when I'd come home from one of these parties and dragged Ace out of the house--too sick and unsettled by the party that night to sit at home alone and pretend it hadn't happened, go about my life like normal. We had drank all night long until we had ended up passed out in a field somewhere and I was able to somewhat put it at the back of my mind, and when it was too hard to forget then at least Ace was there to keep me company.

We had both been too wasted to bother with our usual agreement not to discuss it and he had called it my sick compulsion, my personal punishment. Told me that I was a masochist. I was Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill every day of my life with no end in sight or any way to make it easier, except I was the one punishing myself instead of having it inflicted on me.

He hadn't told me to stop--he never did--but I knew he wanted me to even though we both knew I never would. Couldn't.