Death's Servant

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Chocolate, man. You heard me. She loves it and can't eat it." Rafe ushers me toward the door. "You need to buy a pound or more and eat it all before you come back."

"Um... I really don't eat a lot of sweets."

"You need to eat it to tempt her into biting you."

Wait. I'm starting to get where he's going with this. "You want me to eat all the chocolate so she can't resist drinking my blood? Will that work?"

"That paired with the insatiable hunger she will be feeling when she wakes for the day should do the trick."

Fear grips me. "You mean I need to get her to bite me when she's starving? What if she loses control and drains me?"

"Hah! Not going to happen, Jon. She's going to fight her desires to drink from you the entire time, trust me."

"You won't be here to supervise?"

He shakes his head and opens the door. "Nope. I've got to be out of here or she'll feed on me instead. Man up, Jon. You're going to have to play to her vampire hunger to entice her to bite you." He shoos me into the hall and props up the steel door with his body. "Combined with the blood she gave you earlier it will equate to a servant bond-assuming she drinks enough from you today. The lure of chocolate and the drain from altering the Were's minds should do the trick." He claps his hands together. "Hot damn. This may work after all."

He starts to close the door and panic grips me. What if I can't get this to work? "Wait!" He hesitates before it shuts all the way and opens it again, eyebrows raised in question. "Any kind of chocolate in particular?"

"Yeah. She likes dark best."

"Should I just come back here when I'm done?"

"And be quick about it. I'm not sure when she'll wake. I'll leave when you get here."

My stomach feels bloated with all the chocolate I consumed. I don't think any Halloween night or birthday party from my youth would rival what I voluntary shoved down my gullet this afternoon. Let's hope mixing Hershey's Special Dark with a couple of chasers of beer will do the trick.

I knock on the couple's hotel room door and glance nervously up and down the hall. Why do I feel like a cow being led to the slaughter house?

Maybe because you intend for her to eat you?

Panic grips me for a split second, but releases when Rafe swings open the door. He glances at his watch and gestures me in. "Good! Right on time. She should be waking soon. I can sense the change in her thought patterns. I was getting worried for a second that you might back out."

"I have to admit," I say with a forced smile. "Scarfing down that second pound of chocolate almost made me change my mind."

"No serotonin rush? That's supposed to be a 'feel good' hormone associated with eating chocolate."

I shake my head, raising a hand to press against my queasy middle. "With the first bar, maybe. After that, nope."

Rafe gives me a slip of paper with a phone number on it. "Here's my cell. I'll be in the gym for a while and then maybe hanging in the lobby. I don't think you'll need to call, but just in case."

I look around the empty living area. "Okay. What do I do until she gets up?"

Rafe shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. "You've got to be tired, right? Why not take a nap on the couch."

The idea of sleeping when the hungry vampire fifteen feet away could wake at any time unsettles me. I shudder, but don't voice my anxiety. "I'll watch TV. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not." He turns to leave and hesitates, turning back. "Listen, Jon. Dria was right that you could lose a bit of yourself in the bond. It's different for everyone."

"Did it happen to you?"

"No, but I'm not her servant. I'm her mate. We won't know for sure how you're affected until it's done."

"And then what happens?"

"We deal with it." And with that parting comment, he leaves.

I return to the same couch I sat on a little while ago, debate on raiding the mini bar for liquid courage, but in the end I refrain and watch TV with the volume turned low. Somehow getting drunk when I'm trying to entice a vampire to bite me doesn't sound like a good idea.

There's a rerun of some pivotal football game from last season on cable and watching it requires little effort on my part. Gradually, my full stomach and the constant running from the past week catch up with me and my eyes drift lower. A peaceful relaxed feeling descends upon me, luring me to imagine the next couple of hours won't be so bad.

With a jolt I awake, Dria's intense green eyes staring at me from a few inches away. "What are you doing here, wolfman?"

I sit up, fumbling to turn off the TV in my haste. "I'm here to honor my end of the bargain."

"Isn't that interesting." Her fangs are fully descended when she speaks, but she doesn't lisp or stutter around the longer canines. "By my husband's absence, it's safe to guess he put you up to this?"

"We spoke earlier, yes. But it's the right thing to do. I made a promise and I intend to stand by it."

She waves off my words with a delicate gesture of one slim hand. "Pish-posh. You think I really care about that little deal we made?" She studies her perfect manicure. "You need to leave. Now."

"No."

Her gaze hardens, a glitter of her anger and restraint leaking in for me to witness. "Did you just tell me 'no'?"

I stretch out, putting my legs out in front of me, like I haven't a care in the world. Damn, this provoking a vampire shit makes me feel like I'm walking a tightrope over a river filled with crocs and piranha. Feigning nonchalance is harder than I thought. "Yup, I did. Guess your well-trained husband doesn't deny you much, huh Dria?"

In a split second she leaps and pins me to the back of the couch. Her mouth opens wide, salvia dripping off her sharp teeth to splatter upon my cheek. "Don't insult Rafe. He is no one's lap-dog. Least of all, mine."

"Hey, you're drooling there." I casually wipe my cheek. "Might want to watch that."

A short scream rips from her as she pushes away from me, shoving me into the cushion in her frustration. "Goddammit, Rafe! Where the hell are you?!"

She begins to pace back and forth across the room, her movements stiff and jerky.

"Come on, Dria. Just bite me and take what you need."

"Is that what this is all about?" She whirls around to face me, her hunger straining her every muscle. "I can resist you if I must. I've survived worse hunger than this before."

"I'm sure you have." I pat the couch next to me, indicating she should take a seat near me. She ignores me and goes back to pacing. "But why resist when you don't have to? Why not let me take some of your burden and feed you from my strength?"

"You don't know what you're asking!"

I stand and approach her, still giving her a few feet safe distance. "Dria, look at me." Her gaze flicks briefly in my direction then jerks away. "I do know what I'm offering. I'm offering to pledge myself to you. To let you gain strength from me to use when you need it. To fight by your side no matter what the future holds."

"You make it sound so noble." She snorts. "Sounds like some shit Rafe filled you with." She continues to pace, her nervous energy driving her relentlessly. "It's not noble to lose your free will. It's not noble to put your needs before someone else's. It's not noble to want to give until you die!"

I reach out and grab her arm, hauling her around to face me. Her jaw snaps shut with a snarl. "It is when you trust the person you give your loyalty to."

She looks to the floor, her chest heaving. "You don't know me enough to give that kind of trust."

I give her a shake and force her attention on me. "You think so? Let me tell you what I do know-you have a husband who has stood by your side for well over fifty years. Would you say he gave his loyalty to you on a whim?"

"No, never. Rafe is different." Her eyes gaze off into the distance, past my shoulder. "He has experienced pain and suffering. He lived a life before he sought me out. He came to me knowing exactly what he was getting into. His eyes were wide open and his heart was pure."

"Well, I have no idea what life he led before marrying you, but I know my heart and mind on this." I reach over to the table where Rafe ate his meal and snag a steak knife. "And the choice is mine." I slice the serrated edge across my left wrist and watch the blood pool before running across my skin and dripping to the floor.