Chapter 13

Olivia’s POV

Damien removed his hand and straightened. As he gaze down at me, his eyes showed… nothing. No emotion, not even disdain. It was as if he was entirely indifferent.

Coldly, he said, “This is the price you pay for your recklessness.”

I didn’t really remember the trip back to the castle. I think I was in a carriage at some point, on the floor, with Damien sitting above me on the seat.

Then, at the castle, I was brought inside, cleaned and dressed back in my sheer pet clothes, and taken to the blanket at the foot of Damien’s bed.

Damien barely glanced at me as he walked by. “You are my pet. You never should have been anything else.”

I lowered my gaze, my heart so heavy.

“Do not bother the slaves again,” he said.

A strange command, but perhaps not so from his perspective. After all, I was the one who had stirred up the idea to escape. They had only joined me to protect me.

Now, because of that impulsiveness, they were dead.

It was a cruel twist of fate that I continued to live.

As Damien’s pet, I mostly followed him around, but there were times when I was given a moment’s reprieve, like when I went to the bathroom, or when I was ordered to retrieve something. Or during the day while the vampires were sleeping.

In those moments, I would see other slaves, some of which I knew well. Some, I had even saved with my potions and ointments.

Yet when I tried to approach them, even to offer help in their tasks, they turned away from me. Showing me their backs, it was clear they were shunning me.

With regret and guilt weighing so heavily in my heart, I realized I deserved it.

I wanted to do something for them, to help them however I could. Not just because of the guilt I felt, but because I knew how hard things were for them. Were they still being underfed? Were they still being sick, and locked away in that room?

I didn’t know, and if no one would speak to me, how was I ever going to learn the truth?

Then, one day, I spotted Angela scrubbing the floor near the stairs. Her brother had cared for her so dearly, I felt like I should say something. An apology was the absolute least I could do.

Yet, when Angela looked up and saw me approaching, her eyes went wide with fear. She scurried to her feet and then started to back away from me.

“Stay there!” she shouted forcefully.

I tried to shush her, not wanting to draw unwanted attention from the vampires. Yet her rage seemed to leave her beyond caring.

Looking closer, I could see that fear and anger weren’t the only emotions present in her gaze.

There was also hatred.

“You are cursed,” she snapped. “Stay away from me. From all of us! It’s your fault my brother is dead!”

Tears fell from her eyes, and I felt each one slice into my chest like a blade.

I couldn’t be angry, I could only be sad. Because she was right. This was my fault. Andy and the others died protecting me. If I had stayed out of it, they would likely still be alive.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, as I turned to run. “I’m sorry!”

I dashed away from her, trying to escape from her hate-filled gaze.

But I could never run fast enough to escape my own guilt.

In the evening, I was brought to Damien’s room. He didn’t say anything as I entered, but I knew what he wanted – the only thing he could possibly want me for.

My blood.

He must have been hungry.

I no longer tried to resist him. What would be the use?

I felt numb as I walked closer to where he stood near the table and chairs.

He lifted his gaze at me, then motioned his chin toward the door to the attached bathroom.

“Go and shower,” he said.

I nodded, then silently obeyed. Moving into the bathroom, I turned on the shower. It was freestanding, with no attached tub or curtain. There was a drain in the center of the bathroom floor to take away the water, but I was otherwise exposed.

Stepping under the water, I felt a prickle on the back of my neck, like I was being watched. I lifted my head, glancing into the mirror, and through it, I saw Damien watching my naked reflection.

His face remained passive as always, but his eyes dragged along inch upon inch of my bare skin.

I kept my back to him at first, but then he ordered, “Turn toward the mirror, pet.”

He wanted to watch me?

Having never been exposed to a man like this, I was nervous, but what choice did I have to obey?

Slowly, stiltedly, I turned to face the mirror, exposing my breasts and my mound.

I felt his eyes on me as if he had been touching me with his hands and shivered. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience and I hated myself for that.

Damien stepped into the bathroom. He came closer to me in the shower and turned the water off.

I was still wet, and him fully clothed in his typical black suit, as he stepped up behind me, placing his front to my wet, naked back. One of his arms wrapped around my waist. He placed his hand flat against my belly, keeping me still and pressed against him.

With his other hand, he traced the wound on my arm as he lifted it towards him.

Holding my eyes in the mirror, he exposed his fangs and then sank them into the fresh, healing flesh of my arm.

Pleasure surged through me at once, and I gasped from the intensity of it. My eyes hooded, my head instinctively dropped back. It fell onto his upper chest, resting there as I watched myself in the mirror.

I barely recognized myself, my cheeks turning pink, my lips parted with a moan. I would have bucked and grinded against him if he wasn’t holding me still.

Gods, I wanted him to touch me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I couldn’t think, couldn’t sort through these emotions…

All I could do was feel, the pleasure too extreme, too overwhelming. My pussy ached my nipples hardened.

I met Damien’s eyes in the mirror. Even as he was sucking the blood from my arm, he was watching me, taking in my every movement, my every gasp and moan…

That alone was the final push that sent me flying over the cliff, straight into climax. I orgasmed hard, my face absolutely obscene, with my mouth open, my brow furrowed, my eyes hooded.

The moment I came, Damien removed his fangs and his arms. He stepped away from me, leaving me cold and wet and on shaking knees.

Shame crept up inside of me, forming a home around my heart.

“Wash yourself and then come out,” Damien said.

I was so cold, so sad, I didn’t even have it in me to nod anymore. I simply turned on the shower and obeyed his command.

When I was finished showering and pulled on my clothes again, I stepped out into the bedroom.

Damien motioned for me to move near where he stood at the table. As I did, I noticed there was a box there. Damien lifted the lid and withdrew a thin golden color that matched the chains around my throat.

On the collar was a name, engraved straight onto the metal.

Rose.

“You are my pet,” Damien said. “It is my right to name you.”

He lifted the collar then, and affixed to my neck, careful not to snag the gold chains.

I didn’t move an inch, accepting this as due punishment.

I was the reason my friends had died. What freedoms did I deserve?

Did I even deserve my own name?

No. The Olivia who dreamed of bigger things was dead and gone, buried with her friends at that fake safe house.

I was Rose now. Damien’s Rose.

And I would be until I died.