WARHAVEN

Nineteen

King Augustus walked into the large dining room. The table had to have been thirty feet long. The chairs went on forever. There was a massive fireplace framed by huge windows behind the head of the table, the King's seat. Fire cracked and snapped. It provided a warm glow that cast over the room. It was grand, but homey.

The wood was all dark brown, just like the bedroom. There was a tablecloth that was see-through and framed with off white lace.

Each spot was identical with expensive looking golden silverware and dark green plates. Tall white candles were scattered across the whole table. There were flowers and greenery in the centerpiece, that spanned the whole thirty feet, it looked to be made of lavender and sage. I couldn't imagine the time and preparation that went into creating this fresh centerpiece.

The array of food was magnificent. I felt physical pain looking at how much food there was. Everything smelled so amazing. I saw eggs, scrambled, fried, poached, and boiled.

There was ham and bacon, an array of omelets of multiple varieties. The fruit looked mouthwatering, bananas, apples, oranges, different melons, and even lemon wedges for water.

Different varieties of potatoes were presented together. My new nose told me that was where the garlic and rosemary smell originated.

There were roasted meats and vegetables. Warm buttered rolls and bread loafs scattered about, steamed in the morning light. Glasses of orange and yellow liquid throughout.

I was stopped where I stood by the door. Eyes wide. I watched King Augustus take the seat at the head of the table and begin to fill his plate. There were multiple servants bustling around. I watched as they filled his glass and asked him multiple questions. He was polite and called each by their first name. He knew them. They smiled at him, and he went back to them. They weren't scared of him.

He was about to take a bite before his eyes landed on mine and he set his fork down, gesturing for the seat to his left. "I can feel your nerves, smell them. I can sense you are overwhelmed. Come, sit with me." Did he really think I was going to sit next to the head of the King? No, that was going too far.

His eyes were boring into mine so I dropped mine to the massive area rug and shuffled toward the opposite end of the table. I pulled out a chair and sat. I didn't move. I just stared at the array of food.

"Davina. Come sit." His commanding voice boomed thirty feet. I didn't move. I understood enough about royalty to know that me, a servant, a bought slave, was not under any circumstance, to sit to the right of the King.

My voice was so quiet I was worried he wouldn't hear me, given our distance. I cleared my throat and spoke, "Your Highness, I will not sit to the right of you. You are the King. I am fine where I am. Please let me stay." I met his eyes and mine were pleading. I knew my fear showed in them.

"First of all, call me August. Second, you are my sire. We are connected eternally. Even in death. You are to sit where I request. Come." Did he really think I was moving from this spot? Call me stubborn, or call me smart. I knew nothing about this man but the rumors. This could be a trick.

I could feel some eyes on me who I assumed belonged to servants. They didn't linger very long, but enough to make me feel uncomfortable.

My voice wavered as I spoke, "Your Highness, please." I closed my eyes. I was terrified. If I moved he could reprimand me. He could torture me, beat me, throw me in the dungeon and let the guards have their fun. I wouldn't risk that.

"Davina. Come here. Sit by me. That's a command." He boomed. I tried to fight it. My bones ached as I resisted. My body moved on its own. I stood from the chair and started the long walk. I was holding my breath, and my body was incredibly tense.

I approached the chair and pulled it out, as slowly as I could. I sat down next to him and scooted in. He looked at me, and nodded once, pleased. The second I was able to control my own body again, I released a held breath.

I had nothing to say. I was completely powerless. I was holding back my tears. My hands shook with anger under the table. I balled them into fists and pressed them into the tops of my thighs.

I was so enraged that he forced me to do things I didn't want to, innocent or not. He thought he knew what was best for me. I was nothing to him and he had once again reminded me that I was nothing but a slave.

He grabbed my plate and filled it with a little bit of everything. He placed it down in front of me and I could feel his gaze on me. A servant approached with a large gauntlet and placed it to the left of his plate. He stopped her before she tuned with his voice, "Margie, please get Davina here a gauntlet of our finest. Harvest it fresh if need be."

"Yes your Highness." She whispered and bowed slightly, hands clasped behind her back before rushing off.

My stomach churned, harvest it fresh? What could he possibly—No. No way.

I refused to even let my mind go there. Even if he...harvested it fresh, I did not need to know that. That sounded like something that would scar me for a very long time.

He began to eat very slowly, and I could feel his eyes on me once again. He occasionally took a sip of his blood. It smells delicious and it makes my throat burn. I closed my eyes and tried to break through it.

"You'll get used to it eventually. If you have any issues with control, let me know. I can help you. The last thing we need is you attacking a servant. Now, eat." He mumbled.

I couldn't, I just stared at my plate in silence. I never even thought about the fact that I might be a danger to others. The whole situation was so messed up. Just because he was in a position of power, that meant he got to decide what was best for me. He made me this way without even asking me. But I was used to that by now. Lord knows Simon was a menace.

I chewed on the inside of my lip and hugged myself. My anger had died down, just at that moment. I was studying the different colored melons when the servant, Margie, returned.

She set down a glass that was almost as big as the Kings, in front of me. This glass was massive, although nowhere near as ornate as King Augustus'.

My throat burned and my fangs descended at the sight. I knew the King was watching as I lifted both my shaky hands and gripped the cup. I could feel the warmth coming off the liquid through the glass. I was using all my self control to not turn feral and devour it. I sniffed it and it made the hair on the back of my neck stiffen. My muscles coiled slightly as I drank.

There are few words to describe the bliss I felt in that moment. For some odd reason, this was significantly more enjoyable than the first cup I had. I drank and drank till the cup ran empty.

For a split moment, my mind wandered to what it would be like to hunt. Images flashed in my mind of death, terror and screams. I knew at that moment that I would revel in it. The hunt. The taunting. The chase. The kill.

I swiftly placed the cup down and put my hands in my lap once more. I was ringing my fingers and feeling discomfort and stress. I can't believe my mind even went there. I felt completely disgusted with myself.

I could not deny how wonderful it felt, feeling the warm, thick liquid entering my body. I could feel it adding warmth underneath my skin. My fingers became less stiff and cold. I started to feel as though I was alive again.

I glanced up at the King, I didn't mean to make eye contact, but I did. He was studying me in silence. I didn't know how long he had been observing me, but I hoped I wasn't too obvious in my blatant disgust. I hope he didn't see the primal images cross my mind.

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly broke eye contact as the sound of loud boots boomed against the floor in the hall. His eyes bore into the doors, as they swung open.