I stared at the blade hovering over the delicate throat. I should have thrust it down. I was never a violent creature, had always thought that I had been bred to be more of a conflict avoider, but didn't this situation call for a little blood? Didn't I value my life enough to inflict even a little bit of pain?

It was clear that I did not. I opted for the next best thing and turned to run. I could not kill this man, but maybe the fear and adrenaline would carry me out of the building and maybe if I came across someone else, there would be enough of a need for survival that I would take the blade to someone.

"Now, now, let's not be too hasty," the man behind me murmured. He was so tall he must have barely moved to cover the ground that had taken me several steps. The grip on my arm—though quite gentle— felt like a collar being closed around my neck as he halted my movement. A straggled cry was torn from my lips.

This time, with tears in my eyes, I whirled around and swung the knife blindly, only aiming for the blurry, dark form before me.

Even if I could have seen him clearly, he moved with such speed that I knew I could have never stopped him. The blade that I had imagined would keep me safe until I returned home was dropped as if it were nothing, pressure on my arm causing my palm and fingers to uncurl until they were completely useless. I could only whimper at the sound of the blade clattering on stone. Gone.

"Let me go," I pleaded. I could not win this battle if it took so little for him to disarm me. He was larger, stronger, and clearly well versed in the art of fighting. Maybe the villagers were wrong. Maybe there was a soul inside these creatures and he would have pity on me.

"I understand that you are frightened and for that, I owe you an apology," he said smoothly.

He was completely unruffled by the fact that I had just tried to kill him, that I was sobbing and panting. "Frightened? I was just taken from my whole life. I was kidnapped in the middle of the night and tossed into a dungeon. I am not frightened! I am terrified and begging you to let me go!"

His grip on my arm softened a little then and I used my free hand to wipe my face free of tears because they were clearly not serving me. Dark eyes met mine for a brief second before I glanced away. I hated that I noticed the strong line of his jaw, hated that I saw how his dark hair was longer than the common style in the village and pushed back away from a face that was undoubtedly handsome.

"I am sorry," he restated. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. I had no idea that you were down here until this morning. I should have made my instructions clearer, but revealing certain things can open up the possibilities for...liabilities."

I didn't care what he was saying, didn't care that he was bothering to apologize. "Take me home, please. All of this can be forgotten. My family has a small farm, I'm sure we could work something out--"

"Nothing can be worked out," the man said firmly. "You are in a palace. Mind you, the worst part of the palace, but the point still stands. I do not want your money or your family's vegetables or grain."

"Then I have nothing to offer you," I replied, my voice still too high and too shrill. "I have very little in this world and I certainly have nothing that would please anyone used to palace life."

He took a deep breath through his nose and when his eyes flashed to my throat, I was reminded of what he was. And what I was to him. Nothing more than a cow, or a chicken or a pig was to me when my stomach was so empty it hurt. A source of food when the vegetables stopped growing. I fought the urge to cover my neck with my free hand.

"This was not how I intended things to go, this is not how I expected you to be treated. I understand that you are upset and exhausted and hungry. I have so much to tell you and I know that you have many questions for me, but I think that can wait. For now, if you're willing, I'll take you to some nice rooms, I'll have some staff run you a bath, I'll send some food for you, and I will let you get some proper rest."

My eyebrows raised at his word choice. "And if I decline?"

He shrugged and gestured to my now empty cell. "Then I would be surprised if you enjoyed your accommodations that much, but I will not stop you."

I swallowed hard. The cell had not been terrible. The anxiety was the worst part and I could admit that the food was better than what I was given at home. But he was a vampire. This place was crawling with them. I could not fathom what he wanted from me, couldn't understand why I had not been bled dry if I was their food source. Perhaps being locked in place was not my best choice.

I chewed my lip, warring with my options. The cell was no longer unknown. I could learn the pattern of the guards. I could strike up conversation, maybe form some kind of relationship with them, make them see me as more than a sack of blood. It was a long game. And I no longer had my knife.

"So, I am a prisoner?" I pressed.

"Think of it more as a residency," he encouraged.

"But this is very clearly not my home and I do not know a single soul around me, including you, the person who is probably behind my kidnapping," I accused.

"Ah, of course, I forgot to introduce myself." A wicked grin graced his lips now as he swept an arm behind his back. With a surprisingly graceful bow, he said, "My name is Xion Beauregard, king of the vampires." 

~~~Distraction Section~~~

Xion is pronounced Zion for anyone wondering! As always, take your own twist on it!

Question of the Day: What name is overused in books?