Black Blood

'Sorry.' Despite the sweetly intended apology, I do not feel better. I feel dirty and uncomfortable, not understanding what drove me to this situation.

For the first time in months, maybe years, I did not find a touch unpleasant. It did not bring me fear, the urge to flee or the need to be away in my own thoughts. The very idea that I found it pleasurable in any way left me disgusted with myself, Christiaan's voice echoing in my head.

Sex and pleasure is for men, you are only here to give it.

He has repeated that so many times that it has become imprinted in my head and I have come to believe it.

'Maria.' I keep forgetting that I'm holding up a pseudonym and have to listen to it. I have the top of the dress clamped over my torso, my teeth together. I don't dare turn around. I am afraid that Novak wants something from me after all, perhaps in return for his help or the food. I don't know what to say, perhaps even less what to feel. Fear dominates every fibre of my being.

Novak's shoes slide past me on the floor, sending a shiver of fear down my spine. My eyes are fixed into the ground like pins, not intending to move away from it. If I had pushed the pain aside, bitten through the pain, I would not now be in the fear of new abuse. I feel weak, stupid and an idiot. Christiaan's words begin to reverberate through my head louder, to the point where it's like shouting.

'Maria, look at me.' Like a docile sheep in a flock, I look up at Novak. His blue eyes peg themselves into mine, giving a mixed signal.

'I shouldn't have touched you without permission, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone, you look tired. If you need my help with anything I'll be in the room you just saw me in front of.' It's clearly not what I expected to hear, not by a long shot.

I doubt whether I should say anything to his apology, whether I should accept it at all. I decide to nod my head in approval. Novak smiles briefly, wishes me a good night's sleep and leaves the room.

I blow out my bated breath. I let the dress slide off my body, take off my bra and pull the nightgown over my head. The thing is cream-coloured and is very comfortable. I turn off the room's lamp before taking a seat in the bed. The fireplace is the only thing that lights and warms the room.

I can hardly realise what has happened this day. I woke up this morning in that cursed castle after a night I did not expect to survive. I watched my best friend die and was chased by the person I once thought I could trust. I passed out and ended up in a vampire clan. Smoked my first cigarette and was touched for the first time without it scaring me to death. You could call it an intense day, to say the least.

I have no idea what time it is, what day or date. I lost track of time months ago and don't think I will find it again any time soon. The concept of time is a perception for me anyway. I do not die of old age, only of murder. Night Riders only die when their magic runs out, it's time for a new influence or through murder. The first two items on the list sometimes take hundreds of years.

Before I realise it, my eyes slowly close in fatigue. I let the events of today race through my head and try to give them a place, knowing that this will never be completely successful. With that thought, I doze off into the black hole.

The dozens of eyes do not make me feel more comfortable, anything but. I hate this so-called tradition. Why does this have to be done in public? That is a rhetorical question because I know why this tradition is maintained.

The marriage has to be conducted completely under the eyes of the candidate, my father said. There were several reasons why I was looking forward to my wedding day, this is one of them.

I am very sure that the senior members of the Dawn are not alone in their task here. This is entertainment and the most disgusting of its kind. Perhaps what I hate most is that my father is here. I cannot understand his role in this story.

I turn my head away from the hungry eyes. I don't know what to do, nobody has ever told me anything. Are we supposed to get a start? I suppose not, given the silence that hangs in the room. I don't have long to think about it.

My newly-wed husband grabs me by the cheeks and presses his lips against mine. I have kissed him before, four hours ago to be precise. That was a quick soft kiss, this is anything but. My lips seem to be devoured. My head is spinning overtime. I am unable to focus on how my lips are moving. I am petrified, motionless, nailed to the floor.

Before I fully realise what is happening, I am pushed onto the bed behind me. The connection between our lips disappears, giving me the chance to take in the situation.

I am lying on a bed in a huge bedroom with my husband, just married to me, standing in front of me, while about ten men, including my father, are watching us from the wall opposite the bed. I am lying here in my festive white nightgown.

'Take it off, now'. As if Christiaan could read my thoughts, his words echo through the silence. Isn't he supposed to undress me? I don't want to undress at all in front of the strange men. I keep looking at Christiaan with big eyes. He looks at me as if I have gone mad, as if I am a piece of rubbish.

'Well, hurry up. I haven't got all day,' he says in a mocking tone. Automatically my eyes slide to my father. Although that man is the reason I am here, I still hope for some kind of a way out. He looks at me with two cold brown eyes. There is even a mocking undertone in his gaze.

I swallow. I slowly move my hands to the bottom of the nightgown. I don't really want to do this. I don't know Christian, I don't know what to do and the staring eyes make me very uncomfortable.

'I don't want to,' I whisper with my gaze on the covers. The next moment my chin is roughly grabbed. Two furious brown eyes look at me.

'You have nothing to want. You are going to do exactly what I tell you and not shake me in front of the king. Either you cooperate now or I will make you cooperate,' he whispers in such a soft tone that only I can hear it. A shiver of fear runs down my spine. There is no escape. Christiaan bends away from me again.

'If you don't, I will,' he says before grabbing the nightgown by the neck and tearing it open in one move. The fabric breaks and exposes my breasts. Automatically I clasp my hands in front of my bare breasts. Christiaan immediately swats my hands away. His brown eyes look hungrily at what lies before him.

'Gentlemen, you must see how delicious my wife is,' he says, clearly aimed at the men behind him. There is no reaction except a few soft laughs. All my blood rises to my cheeks and I avert my gaze. It can't get any worse than this, can it?

That thought is quickly disproved when Christiaan pulls the broken fabric from my body and I am left in nothing but pants. That piece of fabric doesn't survive either. Before I know it, my pants are pulled from my legs and I am naked.

I am so fixated on my own nakedness that I don't realise that Christiaan has undone his belt and is pushing down his trousers. I immediately avert my gaze again. I don't need to see that.

I don't realise that Christiaan is bending towards me until he roughly pushes my legs apart. I want to close my legs, but I don't get the chance as soon as he comes between them with his hips.

I am totally defenceless. I can't do anything against Christiaan and the men, including my father, aren't going to do anything to help me.

'I don't want to,' I am told with my last bit of courage. Christiaan grabs both my wrists in his hand and pins them above my head. He seems to completely ignore my comment. I want to cry, scream and fight back, but I am too afraid of the consequences. If no one will save me from this situation, then why from another. Still, I make an attempt to remove my wrists from his grasp, but I am totally defenceless.

The small amount of tips and advice I have received from other ladies tells me that I had better cooperate. As a woman, you are supposed to please a man, not the other way round.

I am so engrossed in my thoughts that it takes me a while to realise that something hard is pressing against my inner leg. I panic as soon as I realise what it is.

I try again to loosen my wrists and push him away with my legs. This only makes me push harder against the mattress.

So it is without any warning that Christiaan pushes himself inside me. A cry of pain leaves my mouth. I had heard that pain could be involved, but this amount I had not expected in my worst nightmare. It burns as if everything down there is under fire. Tears spring to my eyes.

When there is no movement for a moment, I can catch my breath, but it is short-lived. He starts moving his hips hard and fast. The pain is indescribable. The tears roll down my cheeks even though I have squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I grab at Christiaan's wrists for something resembling support. I have to stop everything in me from screaming out in pain.

'Aah baby how tight you are.'

'Maria!'