Page 25 of Battle for the Shadow Prince (A Bargain with the Shadow Prince #2)

25

My Debt

ELOISE

I lower myself onto the desk chair and look down at the paper inside the folder. “New donors are subject to the following fee schedule. Finder’s fee: $1,000. Food: $150 per day. Lodging: $200 per day. Clothing, incidentals, and healthcare costs as incurred.” I turn the page over. “Donor portion of service fees. The following amounts will be credited against the donor’s debt as follows. Blood donation: $100–$300, blood donation with full body massage: $200–$500, blood donation with oral sex?—”

I slam the paper down on the desk, nauseated at the tabulation of sexual acts and their fees. It doesn’t take an accountant to figure out the system is rigged against me. Without performing sexual acts, I’ll never pay off my debt. I lean my elbows on my knees and bury my face in my hands.

“You know, we could unlock the door with a little magic,” Phantom says.

I peek through my fingers to find Phantom’s emerald eyes twinkling at me. The thread between us snaps into place like a steel cable and I stand, hands balling into fists.

“Or we could blast through the door with a little more magic.” Phantom trots into place beside me, excited at the thought.

The buzz of power grows within me, and the door starts to rattle in its frame. I’m tempted to knock it down and storm out, daggers in hand.

But then a vision of Damien’s parched body baking in that silo flashes through my mind. I draw the power back into myself. “And then what?”

Phantom sits and turns his pointed nose to look up at me. “We charge into the palace and challenge the queen.”

I snort. “I don’t even know where the palace is. And if I could find it, I wouldn’t know how to gain access to the queen. The guards at the front of Marabella’s will surely overpower me even with magic and my daggers. I’m not good enough to take on two oversized vampires. If I survived, what next?”

I walk to the one and only window in my room. It’s barred and looks out over a walkway lit by streetlamps. Vampires stroll past the house in both directions. “The queen has an entire army. I’d never reach her alive.”

“You should wait and go during the day when the vampires are sleeping,” Phantom suggests. It’s a good idea until I remember why that hasn’t worked for Damien.

“The palace is guarded around the clock by witches and humans. It’s too risky.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

Chewing my lip, I sink back into the chair and pick up the list of fees and services. Maybe I could refuse some meals in order to lower my debt. This time I read every word on both pages. In small print on the second page, it says, “Tips paid directly to donor can be applied dollar for dollar against debt.”

Phantom gives a laugh that sounds like a fox’s bark. “All you need is a few generous benefactors.”

“Do you know any spells to make vampires feel more generous?”

The fox stares off into space for a moment, nose twitching. I picture my grandmother interviewing the rest of my ancestors for the spell. When Phantom’s eyes meet mine again, his fox mouth sags. “Not without a host of herbs and a cauldron.”

I take a deep breath. “Well then, I’ll just have to trust that my blood is special enough to do the trick all on its own.”

“You’re going to go through with it, darling?”

I lean back in my chair, resigned. “I have to.”

I take my first client the next morning after breakfast. At least I can say the food at Marabella’s is good. I enjoy poached eggs on toast with a side of coffee and cream, delivered by a terse but polite female vampire in a kimono. Once she’s cleared away the tray, I have twenty minutes to ready myself before the lock on my door turns and the vampire lets himself in. That’s a surprise. No knock. No warning. I’m not allowed to have a key to my own room but they freely give one to the vampire who will feed from me. It hangs, gold and glinting, from a red velvet tassel nestled in his fingers.

He wears a uniform, red and black with a braided gold cord across the front of his tunic. Although he appears about thirty, I presume he’s far older. Attractive, I suppose, objectively, although all I feel is dread at the idea of him touching me. The robe I wear covers me but feels far too much like lingerie.

I force a shallow smile. “Hello.”

“You’re new,” he drawls, nostrils flaring.

I have no idea how this usually goes. What am I supposed to say? “I am.”

His gaze rakes over me. “Marabella tells me your services are limited to blood donation.”

“That is correct.” My tone is matter-of-fact with no room for negotiation.

He sniffs as if he’s disappointed I didn’t take one look at him and change my mind. This vampire has an ego. He carries himself like someone important. Maybe someone from the palace? A frisson of hope cascades through me. If he likes me, maybe he’ll give me information about the palace.

“Do you have a name?” he asks.

“Eloise.”

He takes another step closer. “I’m Marcel.”

In hindsight, maybe I should have used a fake name. Then again, if it mattered, if the queen knew who I was, she wouldn’t be looking for me here. “I like your uniform, Marcel. Do you work at the palace?”

Another step closer. He runs a featherlight touch along my outer arm, and I try not to cringe away. “I’m the commander of her majesty’s guard.”

“Commander?” I have to catch my breath and am relieved when he preens, clearly thinking I’m impressed when in fact I’m terrified. I’m standing before the vampire who would, no doubt, be sent to kill me if Valeska knew who I was. “Have you ever met the queen?”

“Many times.” He reaches for one of the curls resting on my shoulder and rubs it between his fingers. “Red. We don’t see it often in our kind. It tends to fade toward brown after we’re turned. Green eyes too. Lovely.”

Marcel is dark-haired and dark-eyed with a silver ridge around his iris. While they cast their own light, they are nothing like Damien’s. I try not to cringe when he bends his head and his lips brush the side of my neck. This is, after all, what he paid for.

I swallow hard. I’m ready.

He strikes, and for a moment I’m confused. There’s no pain. Complete euphoria bubbles through my body. It’s both similar to feeding Damien and completely different, like the difference between lust and love. With Damien, I’ve always felt both. This feels shallow, uncomfortable. My pulse pounds and my cheeks flush. If I’m honest, a dull but persistent throb begins between my legs. Biological responses to the venom in his bite, I recognize. My conscious mind wrestles against the feelings, rejects them, holds them at a distance.

Vampires are death. They hold death’s seductive draw.

His swallowing becomes rhythmic, peppered by his moans of pleasure. I sag in his arms, weakening from loss of blood. “You’ve taken enough.” My eyes flick to the red cord, so far out of my reach. “Stop. It’s too much.”

“Mmmm,” he groans, drawing back slightly, then seeming to change his mind and sinking back into my throat. Fuck . Behind him, Phantom forms, teeth bared. But my training with Cassius kicks in before any magical remedy is required. I reach down to the split of the silky robe below my waist and palm the dagger holstered on my upper thigh. Just as Cassius taught me, I arc the blade between our bodies and press the edge into his throat, hard. The blade sizzles against his skin. That’s a surprise. The blades must contain silver, like Marabella’s.

“Stop. Now !” I command.

He releases me with a final flick of his tongue to close the wound. I half expect him to thrust the blade away. He’s bigger and stronger. He could try to overpower me. But he looks at me with reverence as his long, tapered fingers rise to touch his lips. When I see he has himself under control, I lower the blade but keep it in my hand.

He clears his throat. “I’m usually known for my restraint.” His bushy brown eyebrows bunch together over his hooked nose. “Your blood is… indescribable.” He swallows again and again. “It’s perfect. It’s…”

I don’t have to be a mind reader to know what my blood is doing to him. Beneath his pants, his hard length nudges my hip through my robe, and although he’s just fed, his expression holds a different sort of hunger.

My stomach turns queasy at the thought. I slip the blade back into its holster and force myself to sound sweet as I say, “I hope you’ll come see me again. I can donate every three days, although…” I look down at my coupled fingers, trying my best to look forlorn. “Marabella tells me my schedule is filling up fast. Maybe I could move things around to make room for you if you’d help relieve some of my debt.”

I’ve never been much of an actress. When it comes to the arts, my talents lay with painting rather than drama, but with my blood running through his veins, I can see he’s impressionable, and I plan to make the most of it. I remember then, remember the fear in Damien’s eyes when he found out I had magic in my blood. Fear of being blood bound. By feeding Marcel my blood, might I move his heart by magic instead of emotion?

Commander Marcel reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and hands me every dollar in it. His lids flutter as if he’s confused by his own actions.

I fold the bills without counting them and slip them into the silky pocket of my robe. “Thank you.”

He moves like he might leave but then turns back to me, moving so fast I have no time to protest. His lips slam down on mine with a passionate, although completely one-sided, kiss. I hold very still, teeth clenched, until he finishes. His eyes are sparkling when he pulls away.

“See you in three days.” He winks, then unlocks the door and slips out.

Feeling woozy, I sink onto the edge of the bed. Only then do I reach into my pocket and count the money. Over six hundred dollars.

Phantom forms from the void again, eyeing the wad of dough. “I don’t like to see them touch you,” the fox says in my Grams’s voice. “He came far too close to draining you dry.”

Strangely elated, I hold up the wad of cash. “I don’t like it either, but tips like this are going to get us out of here.”