Saraphine jolted awake, gasping for breath as though she was still being suffocated under the mighty and unyielding hands of Lucian. Her heart hammering in her chest as she sluggishly wipes off the sweat that broke out on forehead with the back of her palm.
The darkness in this room clung to her like a suffocating fog as her eyes struggled to adjust to it, but the echoes of her dream seems to linger long after she has fully awaken to her reality. Memories, not fantasies.
She was back there again, a reoccurent dream that stole her peace, a nightmare. There she was again in the cold streets, barefoot, with the distant bustling of city life unheeding to her suffering. She could still feel the lashes of the rain as it poured down on her bare skin, the hunger and rumbling at her insides, the pitiful gazes of strangers who never stopped to ask, or help. The image of her mother's smiling face now blurry and vanishing into the same void that has swallowed everything she once had, and replaced them with pain, agony and hatred for the group that took her life away, that forced her to the streets, sent her into the gutter, her pride stripped along with everything else.
Saraphine exhaled shakily, trying to let go of all the bitter feelings that accompanied the nightmare. Her chest ached, not from fear, but from the realization of her reality.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark room, her heart sank again as the memories of the previous night came flooding in. The garden, her friends, the fruits, and the angry vampire with bloodshot eyes.
"Could this be...." She gasp with both hands immediately covering her mouth looking around wide eyed as terror struck all over her body.
The dungeon. Lucian's dungeon.
Among the words on the street she has heard, were stories of his dark dungeon, where he locked up his human prisoners and sucked every drop of their blood until their bodies were as dry as wood.
The thought of this being her fate sent shivers through her body, as she tearfully awaited her inevitable end.
Several days down the line and Lucian was yet to come decide her fate. She has been confined to the dungeon, with nothing to eat or drink and at this point every bit of strength in her has vanished. A sigh escaped her lips, soft and defeated. Her resistance had been fierce at first screaming, fighting, trying to find a chance to escape, which all proved futile. Now She was too tired to even care. Maybe this was her fate, after all. Perhaps this was how it was always going to end. She was no longer a street rat scavenging for scraps, she was caged like a lowly pet, a fate worse than that of a slave and there was nothing she could do, because he was someone far more powerful than she could ever hope to be.
The chains binding her wrists clinked as she rolled to the other side of the room, awaking her from her not so peaceful sleep into her current reality which was of its own a living nightmare. She shifted on the cold stone floor, shivering while stretching her sore muscles, and tried to guess the time. Was it day or night? How long had she been here? Days had bled together, and now she couldn't tell one from the other in this dark room that was her prison.
Lucian.
Her mind drifted to the vampire lord who had claimed her. His firery gaze, his stoic demeanor, and the way he looked at her as if she were nothing more than a pawn in his game.
And while she laid there too weak to get up, her body began to give way and her eyes fluttered shut. Hunger, exhaustion, all that were a distant feeling now as she gave it all up.
Meanwhile
Lucian stepped through the grand entrance of his mansion, the heavy door echoing shut behind him.
Fatigue clung to him like a day old underarm sweat, each step feeling like a burden as he made his way to his office.
The week had been full of meetings, negotiations, and the never-ending demands of his status as a vampire lord and all these consumed his time. Yet, beneath the exhaustion lay an anxiety he couldn't shake off.
Seated at his desk, he attempted to gather his thoughts. The last few days were a blur, filled with urgent matters that had pushed everything else aside.
As he scrolled through his notes, a sense of unease gripped him as he realized one thing, he hadn't checked on the girl he brought in some nights ago. Not once.
But his relief was that she was in safe hands. Although he left in a hurry the next morning, he had left the house keeper Agatha a note instructing her on what to do with the girl that was locked up.
With a heavy sigh, he reached for the phone and called Agatha, the housekeeper.
"I need updates on the girl I left in your care," he instructed, trying to keep his tone steady.
When she hesitated, his stomach twisted, because Agatha rarely hesitates, so when she's does, it means there's trouble.
"My lord, I... I didn't receive your message until just now."
Panic struck him like a lightning bolt. If Agatha is just reading his note now, that could only mean one thing: she was still locked in the dark prison. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead as guilt washed over him. He had intended to lock her up just for the night, to teach her a lesson, and instill a sense of discipline, but circumstances had spiraled out of his control. He never wanted her to suffer.
"Days without food or water.." The thought sent a wave of panic through him. What if she had succumbed to the darkness he had cast her into?
The very idea made him feel sick.