Moonlit Surrender

Lucy wiped her sweaty brow as she leaned back against an antique end table in one of the many sitting rooms, the last room to be cleaned before she'd start on the second floor and hopefully smuggle out what she needed to get out of this place and save John from whatever fate awaited him here.

"How was your night in the dungeons?" her captor's silky voice startled her from the doorway.

She suppressed a cringe and steeled herself against his antagonizing. "Cold," she answered plainly.

I have to do this just right. If I seem too eager, he'll know something is up.

"I imagine so."

"A blanket would've helped. Or a sweater," she added curtly as she watched him begin to pace the perimeter of the room with his pink eyes sizing her up.

"Well that would've defeated the purpose." His gaze flicked down to the shadow of her nipples, stiffened from the castle's nightly chill, pressing against the thin fabric of the dress she was positive now he had picked for her.

She felt naked in front of his obvious leering, aware that nearly every detail of her body was plainly visible through the gossamer material. It turned her stomach sour as she wondered whether it was a poorly veiled attempt to view what he had no right to or if it was another sick game like the cleaning. Maybe all he wanted was for her to squirm in his presence. If it was the latter, she hated that it was working.

"Do you have an apology for me?" he asked as he continued to circle her.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. F-

"I-I'm sorry for wounding your delicate feelings." She suppressed the smirk tugging at her lips, but regretted the poor move.

His hand was on her throat in a flash and she found herself lifted off her feet and gasping for air just as she had in the foyer the night before. Somehow, it seemed less frightening this time, maybe because she knew he had no plans of killing her, or maybe because it had lost its shock value. She was in discomfort, but it was just a moment and would pass.

His eyes caught the light from the candles in the room and glowed violet beneath a pale, furrowed brow. "If you find my hospitality wanting now, you'll be shocked to find there are yet luxuries I can quickly strip away. Push me, girl. I enjoy bringing a bitch to heel."

Lucy felt her head growing lighter and began to see spots. Unable to speak, she chose to let go of his outstretched arm. It was a meager thing, but still a show of surrender she was betting he'd be greedy enough to accept.

His brow lifted in surprise and he nodded triumphantly as he set her back down on her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said more earnestly, unable to make eye contact as she struggled through the words.

"I am glad you are finally beginning to see reason. At last realizing the hopelessness of the position you are in?" he grinned wickedly.

She refused to answer.

He seemed willing, for the moment at least, to take this small victory and not push her further. He backed away and began to move for the doorway. "You've done fine work bringing some semblance of dignity back to the rooms on this floor. Gather your supplies and I will take you upstairs." He then exited into the hall to wait for her.

Lucy gathered the rags and cleaning agents in her bucket. As she moved to blow out the nearest candle, she heard Doris' hushed voice from outside the room. "Master, the others are beginning to talk."

"Of what?"

"This fascination, your favoritism for the girl. It's unbecoming. Disgusting. She is still mortal. It's indecent."

He let out a humorless chuckle. "You did not think it so repulsive when I turned my favoritism upon you."

"Proper decorum was followed," she defended quietly.

"In the old days, the virgin sacrifices were celebrated in their nakedness before they were brought to slaughter."

"She is no virgin, though, Master. She is more cunning than you give her credit for."

"Are you suggesting I am foolish enough to be under this chit's influence? Are you accusing me of frivolity?" His soft voice began to harden in outrage. "Never, my Lord. Forgive me. I worry only for your reputation with the others," she defended in a growing panic. "Please, forgive me for overstepping." "Overstepping indeed, Doris. Leave us. I will escort her the rest of the night."

"Whatever my master commands," she replied obediently.

Lucy heard the clicking of Doris' heels on the stones fade away down the labyrinth of halls, leaving her with nothing but one lone candle prolonging the inevitable exit to her ancient vampire captor waiting expectantly in the hall. With a deep breath to still her nerves and swallow the blind hatred she had for this creature, she puffed out the little flame, then stepped into the dim hall glowing with sparsely lit torches and Lerexus waiting patiently for her in his halo of white hair and stark, ghostly robes like he had worn the night of her kidnapping.

He uttered nothing, wordlessly making his way to the foyer and the grand staircase, expecting her to obediently follow.

She remained a handful of paces behind his flowing hem, eyeing the deep shadows for his hidden minions. Now and then she saw a glare of eyes or a flash of white skin, signifying they were indeed being observed. Whether it was for security or curiosity from the growing skepticism of his ranks, as Doris had hinted at, she couldn't say. All she knew was everywhere they turned, there were hidden eyes.

Lerexus escorted her to the second level and surprisingly to his study first, unlocking the door and entering with a flick of his fingers for her to follow. He sat down behind his heavy mahogany desk after lighting three candelabra across the room and leaned back in his chair. "Clean," he instructed.

You have to say it. You've got to. The little things will add up.

"Yes, Master," she muttered softly.

Don't think about it. It's just words.

His eyes lit up like stars. "Such a change of heart. It must have been terribly cold down there."

She kept her eyes down and bit back any hateful words that might fly out, instead focusing on dusting his bookshelves. Most of the titles were in Latin and bound in old leather, older than any volumes she had ever seen. She wondered what their contents were, perhaps long-lost pieces historians still searched in vain for.

"Johnathan is not the only vampire in the world who enjoys reading," he informed as he watched her closely. "A thorough and regularly updated education is paramount to an immortal's survival in an ever-changing world." "These look very old," she replied without thinking.

"Indeed they are. Where you come from often shows you where you're headed. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

The quote sounded familiar, but Lucy couldn't place it to an author, only that she had heard it in one of John's classes. "How philosophical of you."

He did not respond, but his otherworldly gaze did not leave her.

Lucy eyed his desk as she turned to wipe down the other bookcase. His desktop was clear of everything but a stack of what looked like parchment, a quill and inkwell, and only a few other amenities, but no letter openers among them. "You'll need to scrub the floors as well," he added after a moment. "Do them last."

"Yes, Master." She felt like a part of her died every time she uttered the words.

Lucy made her way all through the room, dusting, wiping, organizing, and even washing the stained glass windows behind the heavy drapes, until she came at last to his desk, though still unsure how she was going to get into it or convince him to move her back to the windowless room in the undercroft.

Lerexus did not move from his chair, remaining rigidly fixed in it, forcing her to reach over him.

She heard a soft inhale from him as she leaned her hip against his armrest and stretched past his lap to clear away the dust. He didn't move or say one word, didn't so much as touch her. He simply watched.

"Sorry to get my disgusting mortal-ness all over you," she commented softly, though still sharp with sarcasm. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable in the hall. I'd hate to get those fancy robes dirty."

"Am I crowding you?" he asked, his smirk only evident in his tone. His plump pale lips remained in their ever-present neutral grimace. He pushed away from the desk a couple inches and motioned for her to move forward.

She hid her disdain behind the curtain of her long hair as she stepped in front of him, standing between his knees as she organized a stack of open letters, also written in what appeared to be Latin.

"You would make a marvelous vampire, you know," he stated behind her.

Her brow furrowed. "Oh?"

"You are a belligerent little thing when you wish to be, but I can see that stems from a certain strength in you." The tip of one of his fingers grazed the outer side of her upper thigh, lifting the hem of the dress with it. "I see what drew Johnathan to you. He must have greatly enjoyed breaking you. It is a sweeter taste to tame the wild beauty."

"Doris says I'm weak." She turned around to face him, leaning back against the edge of his desk, her knees pressing into his inner thighs.

He scoffed as his eyes trailed up her body to meet her gaze. "As if she knows anything of strength. She is a follower, a pleaser, through and through."

"I'd have thought you'd like that in your vampiresses."

"There is no will in her to conquer. There is no struggle and so no sweet release at triumphing it. I do enjoy a good struggle."

Lucy tamed the bile rising in her throat and steadied the tremors in her arms with a firmer grip on the lip of the desk. This man was vile and capable of far more horrible things than she had imagined.

"I'm sorry to rob you of your fun then," she said softly, hoping her compliance would cool him.

"Wipe the underside as well," he instructed. "Beneath the desk."

She could feel fear beginning to seep into her chest and the realization that evil was in the room with her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was foolish to ever turn her back on him again, but she hoped steering into the skid and giving him the blind obedience he demanded would bore him and break him of whatever sick infatuation he had with her. With a lump in her throat, she knelt down on her knees at his feet so she could crawl under and wipe away any dust that had collected beneath his desk. She felt her ass raised in the air and could only imagine just how exposed she was, everything viewable beneath the sheer fabric of the dress that rode up the backs of her thighs each time she reached forward.

Surprisingly, he did not touch her again, and she wondered if the only thing keeping him contained was the fact she was human and considered less-than to him. Did his prejudice run deeper than his corruption to take and conquer? She rose back up onto her feet, unsure if she felt more exposed fully facing him than she had on her knees.

His lips parted, about to speak, but he was interrupted by a soft knocking at the door. He took a deep breath as if to center himself and then stood up to cross the room. "Wash the floors and you may return to your room and eat tonight." He opened the door to the guard Lucy had seen at the front door the night before. "We found him. He's on the trail."

"Wonderful," Lerexus grinned and clasped his hands together. He peered over at Lucy who was pretending not to hear and instead focusing on preparing her supplies. He crossed the room and snatched her bucket from her hand. "I'll get you some water." Quickly, he exited the room with the guard, shoving the bucket into his hands, instructing him to finish his report while they fetched some water for the girl.

The door swung closed behind him but did not latch.

She stared at the crack in it, her heart racing.

She hurried to the other side of the desk and began quickly searching the drawers. Each drawer she found was locked until, with sweaty hands, she grabbed at the slender one just beneath the surface and found it open. In a rushed panic she swiped through it, but only found some loose paperclips, a rubberband, and a few coins of different denominations and possibly even eras, loose in it.

She cursed under her breath and felt like she might cry from the frustration humming through her. How was she supposed to get out and down to the boat now? Her eyes flicked up in terror as she heard the handle of the door rattle, just enough as if someone had grabbed it from the other side. Her nervous hands stole a paperclip and smashed her fingers in the drawer as she closed it too quickly. Lerexus reentered the room just as she swept her hair back from her shoulders and surreptitiously tucked the clip away in the back of it.

He dropped the bucket to the floor, letting a few suds splash out onto the stone floor, and waited expectantly.

A paperclip? What are you, a fucking spy? You're going to pull off the greatest escape ever with a single paperclip? Idiot.

She scolded herself and felt defeated as she knelt down to the water and stared dejectedly at the brush floating in it.

"I am not without mercy," he said suddenly. "Good behavior is to be rewarded. Finish your chores here and I'll see to it you sleep next to a fire tonight."

Lost in her own despair, the words slipped out without thinking, "Thank you, Master." She felt sickened by the subconscious slip.

Lerexus moved back to his chair and resumed his relaxed position, his pink eyes following her every move.

As she began to spread the water across the stones, she felt the hem of her dress dipping into it and stopped to raise it high up her thighs and then bunch it up to the side in a secured knot so she wasn't tripping over it the whole time. The sight was not lost on her warden who leered lasciviously from his perch.

On all fours, she scrubbed the stones and the cracks where who knew how many ages of dirt was caked in as she tried to hatch a scheme with her one little paperclip. As she worked her way farther from where her captor sat overseeing her, her mind began to clear.

The shitty lock on the door Doris can never get open. Maybe it could be picked?

Unsure of how to go about it or if it was even possible, she decided lock picking was her new course of action. She would pick the lock after daybreak, then sneak her way down into the foundations of the castle until she found the abandoned pier with the lonely rowboat, and float her way to safety. Maybe she could find her way to a nearby town and find a way to contact John. She had to stop him from willingly stepping into Lerexus' trap, but even if he did show up, if she wasn't there maybe that meant the evil vampire wouldn't have any leverage over him, maybe without Lucy in the way John could kick his ass and be done with him once and for all.

Lucy bent low, exaggerating the movement so her knotted hem rode up to the bottom of her ass cheeks, then turned to Lerexus. "So no more dungeon?" she asked as innocently as possible.

His hand settled on his desk and his long nails tapped the wood in a slow rhythm. He seemed deep in thought, but answered, "No more dungeon." His eyes settled on her and with a more menacing tone that sent shivers down Lucy's spine, added, "So long as you behave."

"Yes, Master,” she answered so earnestly, for a second she almost believed her newfound devotion.

"In the old days," he began low, as if to himself, though his eyes still wandered over Lucy, "lone villages, tribes - small devout places not yet tethered by the noise and distraction of civilization and industry - would ritualistically offer up a virgin to my brood in exchange for their safety. And how grateful those boys and girls were to serve a higher purpose. To serve a vampire lord was once a great honor, a coveted calling."

"Safety from what?" she asked softly, ignoring his veiled attempt to shame her.

"From frenzied, unchecked feeding. A strong brood could control entire lands then, the wild ones at least. Mine was practically an empire."

"Why virgins? Isn't all blood the same?"

"Oh no, girl. No. Everyone has their own unique flavor. Though it all starts with the same base, like a broth, an individual seeps in more flavor from the places they go, the things they consume, the experiences they gather along the way. Virgins are sweeter, if a little more bland. It's the innocence yet in them. Johnathan had quite the sweet tooth in his early days."

She rolled her eyes at the obvious endeavor to form a wedge. He and Doris had done hardly anything else since she had gotten there. Just as Doris knew nothing of it, she was sure Lerexus didn't either.

Lerexus chuckled low. "I know. He puts on quite a show these days, as if he is so far above such baser pleasures." He clenched his fist in a mocking display of power. "All about control and living by a code now. He used to be so much more fun."

"I think he's plenty fun now." She glared.

His plump lips stretched slowly upwards into a malevolent grin. "Yes, I imagine you do. Still so much yet unseen, so much untasted. He must be a veritable theme park to you with all that experience."

"I was hardly a virgin," she snapped defensively. "I'm not so naive."

"Ah, but you forget I too have tasted you. True, you are no virgin, but still you overflow with sweetness, like a plump peach at the height of ripeness. You can tell the world and even yourself whatever lies you wish, but the truth is all written down in your flavor. Your life is in your blood." He seemed pleased with himself as he leaned back. "As for my dear old friend, some habits die hard, as they say."

She bit her tongue, refusing to egg him on further. This was all a trap, just lies to sow distrust. She scrubbed the floor more aggressively as she pushed the brush forward and back with her full weight.

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"The black hair is not surprising either. He's always had an affinity for dark haired ones, like she was..." He trailed off, waiting for her to take the bait and ask him to continue.

She did not turn back to look at him, but threw the brush down in frustration with herself, unable to deny her own curiosity at his past. "I already know he was married, if that's what you're talking about." "His daughter."

She looked back at him confused.

"Didn't he tell you all about it? Here I thought you two were the perfect couple. Didn't come up in pillow talk?" He grinned.

"I didn't want to pry." She crossed her arms and sat back on her heels.

"Ingaret. What did he tell you about her?"

She answered cautiously, "He told me she died young from illness, his wife too."

"And the night he was turned?"

"He was grieving the recent loss of his wife and was attacked."

Lerexus laughed. "A fine tale."

"You're saying he lied?"

"It was his daughter he grieved. His wife was a terrible nag, prudish and cold of heart. I believe theirs was an arranged marriage. That girl was the only evidence they were ever intimate, and probably only the one time. Ingaret was his pride and joy, his jewel, his princess. It's true she died from the plague, but it was his wife who was first to go. Ingaret was no child when the grave took her but had just become a woman. I believe she was in love too. It was all very tragic. He hasn't been able to stop himself from collecting dark haired little waifs since."

"Is this supposed to make me hate him?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"No, child. It is meant to show you the grander picture, that his brokenness is pathological and you are nothing but a means for self-medication. You are not one of a kind, special, unique - or whatever he told you. He did not hand pick you out of the billions of people in the world for being something remarkable. He is self-soothing. You are just one of many pets who have come before and one day you will prove to be unworthy of his devotion, as the others did, because no one will ever measure up to Ingaret and the pedestal he has placed her on. There is an expiration date on this bliss, a sourness that will settle into your blood and remove that sweet flavor from your veins. You are living in someone else's shadow." A heaviness settled on her chest. She didn't want what he was saying to be true, but she couldn't find the holes in it, couldn't find the lie. Was he telling her the truth? "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice wavering as she fought back the tears welling in her eyes.

He leaned in, his palms resting on his desk and his eyes piercing through her with a perception that left her feeling violated. "Because I do not see a shadow. I see potential."

"Potential?"

"I think you could be great, Lucy, truly exceptional if you would let me help you. Let go of this lie you've been living and follow me into divinity. I would make you a goddess, fearsome and breathtaking, a powerful warrior and coveted lover. John made you his princess, but I would make you a queen."

A tear slipped out and dropped from her cheek, leaving an icy trail behind it.

He rose from his chair and stepped around his desk, approaching until he halted just in front of her. In an odd display of sympathy and something akin to warmth, he outstretched his hand to her.

She did not take it. "So that's it? John's been living in the past, using girls to soothe himself and after all this - the humiliation, the degradation - you're letting me off the hook, just like that? I'm suddenly exempt from this elaborate plot for revenge you've dragged me through?"

"I'm sorry, truly, that you were ever dragged into this nasty business between him and me, but that was not by my doing, child. He chose to involve you in our affairs. I offer a way out."

"I don't believe you. I don't believe any of it. You're the liar." Her voice rose, both in octave and volume, as outrage and frustration took her.

"This man you hold so loyal to has betrayed your trust at every turn. This incessant need to fill the hole his daughter's death left in him, and the absurd story he spun about being attacked by a vampire. One does not accidentally become a creature of the night, sweet blood. He sought me out. He begged me for it, because he was convinced we held some sort of necromantic secrets that could bring her back to life. I have no doubt he regrets it now, but that does not excuse the lying, the using, the betrayal of his brood, or the abandonment of his sire. I gave him immortality. I gave him my wisdom, my trust, a new family. This willfulness in him, this defiance, must be broken. He must be brought back into the fold, through pain and surrender. I wish only to bring an end to his blind destruction."

"So you're not going to kill him?" she asked slowly, swiping another tear away as she looked up at him, still resting on her knees.

"No. He is yet one of my children. I seek only to bring him home, but a wayward child must be disciplined and shown the error of his ways. With you here, he is sure to return."

Lucy felt herself shaking, telling herself it was just from the damp and the cold, but she could feel her mental resolve crumbling. Doris had not done him justice. Lerexus' words seemed laced with magic, even his outstretched hand held an almost irrefusable invitation. She stared at his hand hanging in the air in front of her face, open, not reaching, but ready to accept. She found herself unable to take it, but also unable to refuse, caught in a maddening limbo on her knees in the icy puddle of suds she had been spreading across the flagstones.

She was shocked to watch him kneel down in front of her, soaking the hem of his stark white robes as he stooped down. "You have a lot to process. There is no pressure to answer this very night, child. You need rest.” He grabbed her by her bare shoulders and lifted her up with him. "Come. You'll sleep on it."

Lucy felt as though she was in a fog, her grip on reality slowly slipping. She found herself unsure what to believe anymore. Maybe Lerexus' offer was something to consider. Maybe John was a liar and a user after all. Maybe something better waited for her in the night, a crown worth sacrificing her previous life and her very soul for. Maybe what she had only seen as a prison was actually opportunity. Lerexus was offering her something, perhaps he did deserve a modicum of respect.

In a haze, she let him escort her down the many flights of stairs back to the windowless room to fall asleep next to the warmth of a modest fire and a blanket to wrap herself in. To her surprise, he stayed with her, sitting in the crudely built wooden chair and drumming his fingers against the small table next to it, thoughtfully, as he watched her fall asleep.