Virgil’s Kitten
In the heart of medieval times, Atika, a tribal slave girl adorned with intricate tattoos marking her heritage, finds herself on the auction block once again. Known for her fierce spirit and unyielding defiance, she has been sold and returned by numerous masters, none able to tame the wildness within her.
Atika's life changes when Virgil, a handsome and tall pureblood vampire, attends the auction. Cold, sadistic, and narcissistic, Virgil's reputation precedes him. Yet, he is immediately captivated by Atika's beauty and fiery spirit. Her feral nature reminds him of a wild kitten, earning her the nickname "kitten" from him.
Intrigued and seeing potential in her that others have missed, Virgil places a high bid, securing Atika as his new possession. He brings her to his grand estate, a place of opulence and dark secrets. There, he plans to mold her into a perfect servant, but he is also drawn to the possibility of something more—an unusual bond that neither can yet define.
Excerpt:
The moonlight filtered through the high, arched windows of Lord Virgil’s estate, casting an ethereal glow over the polished marble floors. The imposing figure of Virgil, a tall and handsome pureblood vampire with raven hair and piercing red eyes, stood in the center of the grand hall. His gaze was fixed on Atika, the human slave girl who knelt before him, her tribal attire and tattoos a stark contrast to the opulence around her.
Atika's spirit was unbroken despite her circumstances. She was feisty, with a sharp tongue and a sweetness that could disarm even the coldest of hearts. But Virgil was not easily swayed. His narcissistic and sadistic nature made him a master of control, and he relished the challenge she presented.
“Kneel, kitten,” Virgil commanded, his voice smooth and unwavering.
Atika hesitated for a moment, her eyes flashing with rebellion, but she complied, sinking to her knees before him. She hated the nickname he had given her, but there was a strange intimacy in the way he said it, a possessiveness that sent shivers down her spine.
Virgil stepped closer, his tall frame towering over her. He reached out, lifting her chin with a single finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Such a feral kitten,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You remind me of a wild creature, untamed and full of fire.”
Atika’s breath hitched, but she refused to look away. “I am not a pet,” she said defiantly. “I am a warrior.”
Virgil chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “You are whatever I say you are,” he replied, his thumb brushing over her lips. “And right now, you are mine.”
His eyes flickered to the brand on her shoulder, the mark that declared her a slave. His expression darkened, the amusement vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “Who branded you with this mark?” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp.
Atika’s heart pounded, fear and anger warring within her. She knew that revealing the name would bring death, but Virgil's patience was not infinite. She remained silent, her defiance a silent challenge.
Virgil’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on her chin. “Answer me, kitten,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Who dared to mark you as their property?”
Tears welled in Atika’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she finally spoke. “His name is Varek,” she said her voice barely a whisper. “He is the one who branded me.”
Virgil’s expression grew darker, a deadly calm settling over him. He released her, turning away with a dangerous grace. “Varek,” he repeated, the name like poison on his lips. “He will pay for this.”
