The world had gone to hell long ago, taken over by the vampire race. In order to keep some sort of peace in our land, the Vampire Lords made a consecutive agreement. The rich and powerful humans could survive just as they had been, untouched by the vampires save for the occasional blood collections, or so they thought In reality, we were all under their control. Castles spread out throughout our land, one landing in each city. Each castle varied in the number of vampires residing there, but all of them carried a Lord. The Lords were the ones in charge in every city, whether we liked it or not. The vampires often roam through the city, making sure that everyone was in order and no one stepped out of line. If you stepped out of line, you died, end of story. Even if the rich were still under their control, their lives were still better than the poor. The poorest lives held a much worse fate. The men were to be put to work as slaves, whether that meant serving a specific vampire, or just building their castles, they were slaves. The women were to be pets. Pets were the lowest rank you could have. They were forced into cages that were too small to stand in with collars around their necks. They spent their lives in pet shops, just waiting for the dreadful day that they'll be bought. They were treated like animals, trained into what their master wanted, and punished if they misbehaved. Those who were lucky enough to live through that, we're to be slaughtered for their blood at age twenty-five in an act to make sure that our population would stay steady. I was born into this world. Born into this world full of blood-sucking monsters. Except, I was one of the lucky ones. Was. It all ended for me when I was 12, when I was taken away from the last bit of hope and family that I had left. Ever since then, I've lived in a cage, just rotting away, waiting, dreading for the day that some monster would make me his. This is my life. I am a pet. ~~~ Cover by: @mshacake

He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.

Rose is only his. He was the one who bought her up. He was the one who killed to keep her safe, fed her, clothed her. He only loves her. Because he only feels only around her. Trigger Warning: This story contains content that may be distressing or triggering for some readers. Themes include, but are not limited to: Sexual content, Violence, Abuse (physical, emotional, and/or sexual), Mental illness, Self-harm, Suicide, Death. Please proceed with caution and take care of your mental and emotional well-being. If you feel that these topics might be upsetting or triggering for you, consider skipping this story or seeking support from a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional. Important Note: This story does not intend to glamorize, advertise, or portray these acts as acceptable. Instead, it aims to raise awareness about the harsh realities that some individuals face. The purpose is to foster understanding and empathy for those who have experienced such trauma.