Read Online Thrall (A Vampire Romance) by Abigail Graham - Free Book Online

notebook. There’s something wrong about it. When he realizes I’m looking he snatches it up and leans back so I can’t see.
    “I want to help you,” he says, and his voice is even but I can feel him fighting to keep it that way. “If you cooperate, I can help you get better, and I’ll make things more comfortable for you here. I’ll bring you some books to read, you can watch movies. I’ll keep you fed.”
    “You make it sound like you want me to be some kind of pet.” I pluck at the collar and look him in the eye.
    “It’s not like that.”
    “Then what’s it like? What do you want from me?”
    “If I tell you, I’ll never have it.”
    What the hell does that mean? Damn it, whatever, who cares.
    “He ripped my throat open with his teeth. Then he bit off part of his wrist and made me swallow it. Blood, too. Then I died. It got worse from there.”

Chapter Six

    I woke up like I’d never woken up before.
    My eyes popped open. I didn’t feel groggy or sleepy, and I had no real sense that I was sleeping. When I sat up and moved, I was sure I was in a dream, the way dreams just start and stop with no logic or continuity. I was lying on a cold tile floor in a dark room, completely covered in blood. Old blood that turned to rust, crusted my clothes and stuck to my skin.
    Remembering the feeling of teeth pressing into my flesh until it burst and tore, I clutched my throat, but felt only smooth skin. Cold , smooth skin, as cold as ice. I stood up, and my bare feet slipped on the floor. With a start, I realized it was dark. Pitch black, but I could still see. Everything was painted in off-color silvery hues, like an old picture. When the door swung open I hissed through my teeth and covered my eyes from the painful intensity of the light.
    Then he walked in. Clean, white, perfect. Like a statue. I lowered my hands from my eyes.
    “Kneel,” he said.
    “What?”
    His movement was casual, almost lazy, but so fast I could barely see his arm move. His hand whipped out and he backhanded me so hard I heard a crack in my jaw and spun around. I hit the concrete wall hard and went down in a heap, clutching my throbbing head.
    “You will not speak unless I give you leave. Kneel.”
    Shaking and clutching my head, I shifted onto my knees and rested my palms on my thighs despite my throbbing jaw. I started to look at him but quickly shifted my gaze to the floor and held it there, staring at his feet. His shoes were made of white leather and he was wearing spats, also white. They looked out of place on the grimy tile floor. The more I looked the more I noticed the crust of filth in between the tiles. It wasn’t mildew or regular scum, it was the same rusty brown as the dried blood soaking my shirt. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and pain surged through me again. I thought I was going to throw up.
    I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I puked on his shoes.
    “That’s better. Know your place. I am your master. You are my thrall.”
    He reached out and I flinched, but I didn’t dare move. He brushed the hair out of my eyes and touched my cheek- the other cheek, as gentle as a lover. My skin crawled from his touch. As pale as stone, his skin was just as cold. Cold, cold and dead. I trembled as his hand drew back and he moved closer.
    “You are wondering many things. What are you. Why you. I will answer the second one. Because you were there.”
    He touched my skin again. His nails were sharp. I could feel them dragging over my skin, like a blade touching just lightly enough to be felt, but not cut. There was a power in his hands, a hint of crushing physical strength that would make that slap feel like nothing. I kept my eyes on the floor and prayed silently to myself.
    “You’re wasting your thoughts,” he said. “Your prayers will not be answered. When I took you, your name was unwritten from the book of life and written in the black book of death.”
    Could he read my mind?
    “Yes. I can read