her, but they didn’t. She was only cattle. Why worry about her feelings? Humans don’t comfort livestock before they’re slaughtered to be sent to market. The Master had no sympathy for his human delicacies.
Guilt battered Derek for being grateful the guard had come for the woman instead of him. His ravaged body might not survive another beating right now. Oh, he could fend off an attacker, but he submitted to the beatings, and being the half-human mongrel he was, healing from his last beating would take some time. He was as strong and fast as any full blooded vampire but, when injured, it took twice as long for him to recover.
Derek had become the best of the best fighters in The Nest, because the best defense was a good offense. Preventing injury was the best offense against his blood thirsty brethren. If his humanity were to come to light he would be an instant target. It was the threat of exposing him to the rest of the Shadeand the safety of his mother that kept him in line. The Master could not be seen as weak or lenient. Derek took the beatings and smiled inwardly. He knew down deep the Master feared him. He was stronger, faster, and more deviant then any of the other soldiers. Derek had been raised on beatings as if they were mother’s milk. The result was a vampire with a will to survive andtake down anything in his path.No one could defeat him alone and everyone, including the Master, knew it.
So he took great pleasure in making a show of beating the hell out of Derek at the slightest provocation, and in doing so, proving to the rest of The Nest that he was the greatest warrior. Only he could knock the pegs out from under Derek and then have him carried away and hidden to preserve the image of a perfect vampire. God forbid anyone find out his secret. If only they knew how he gladly accepted the beatings in exchange for his mother’s safety. Now, when he was weak and vulnerable the Master would come and remind Derek of his vows. He would remind him of his humanity and the fragility of being such a pathetic creature like his mother. How easily her life could end.
Again he felt shame for wishing the Master would just go ahead and kill him. It would be so much easier than being his whipping boy. It would be so much easier than going out and collecting cattle for the Master’s pleasure. It would be better than wandering the streets, picking up human girls to bring back for the vamps in The Nest to abuse and drain. Human girls, who would have grown to be mothers just like his, followed him gladly until he entranced them into his web. He captured vampire youth to be tested for power and killed whether they had any or not. He was a traitor to both races.
He was the perfect vampire. That’s what the Master had told him. The humans couldn’t resist vampire charms and the vampires couldn’t resist the faint, elusive scent of human blood. Yet nobody knew Derek was a demi-vamp mongrel. He wanted to die for his crimes against man and vampires because living with the guilt only made him meaner and colder by the day. But what would happen to his mom? If she wasn’t needed to keep Derek in line, would she be the next woman dragged down the corridor, screaming and begging for her life? He didn’t know the answer to that question and he never would.
A memory flickered in the back of his mind and Derek savored it for a moment. She had been such a surprise. In the chapel entryway a little brunette fireball had tried to take his head off with a golf club. At first anger swelled in his chest and he gripped her tightly, pressing the gun to her head. He would have killed her. He should have killed her, but the warm honeyed scent of her hit him, and the heat of her body against his chest made him hesitate. Until the heat of her hand literally burned him. She was pyrokinetic. Holy shit!
The Master would kill for a prize like that and he knew he should have taken her. If he could figure out how to do that without ending
Guilt battered Derek for being grateful the guard had come for the woman instead of him. His ravaged body might not survive another beating right now. Oh, he could fend off an attacker, but he submitted to the beatings, and being the half-human mongrel he was, healing from his last beating would take some time. He was as strong and fast as any full blooded vampire but, when injured, it took twice as long for him to recover.
Derek had become the best of the best fighters in The Nest, because the best defense was a good offense. Preventing injury was the best offense against his blood thirsty brethren. If his humanity were to come to light he would be an instant target. It was the threat of exposing him to the rest of the Shadeand the safety of his mother that kept him in line. The Master could not be seen as weak or lenient. Derek took the beatings and smiled inwardly. He knew down deep the Master feared him. He was stronger, faster, and more deviant then any of the other soldiers. Derek had been raised on beatings as if they were mother’s milk. The result was a vampire with a will to survive andtake down anything in his path.No one could defeat him alone and everyone, including the Master, knew it.
So he took great pleasure in making a show of beating the hell out of Derek at the slightest provocation, and in doing so, proving to the rest of The Nest that he was the greatest warrior. Only he could knock the pegs out from under Derek and then have him carried away and hidden to preserve the image of a perfect vampire. God forbid anyone find out his secret. If only they knew how he gladly accepted the beatings in exchange for his mother’s safety. Now, when he was weak and vulnerable the Master would come and remind Derek of his vows. He would remind him of his humanity and the fragility of being such a pathetic creature like his mother. How easily her life could end.
Again he felt shame for wishing the Master would just go ahead and kill him. It would be so much easier than being his whipping boy. It would be so much easier than going out and collecting cattle for the Master’s pleasure. It would be better than wandering the streets, picking up human girls to bring back for the vamps in The Nest to abuse and drain. Human girls, who would have grown to be mothers just like his, followed him gladly until he entranced them into his web. He captured vampire youth to be tested for power and killed whether they had any or not. He was a traitor to both races.
He was the perfect vampire. That’s what the Master had told him. The humans couldn’t resist vampire charms and the vampires couldn’t resist the faint, elusive scent of human blood. Yet nobody knew Derek was a demi-vamp mongrel. He wanted to die for his crimes against man and vampires because living with the guilt only made him meaner and colder by the day. But what would happen to his mom? If she wasn’t needed to keep Derek in line, would she be the next woman dragged down the corridor, screaming and begging for her life? He didn’t know the answer to that question and he never would.
A memory flickered in the back of his mind and Derek savored it for a moment. She had been such a surprise. In the chapel entryway a little brunette fireball had tried to take his head off with a golf club. At first anger swelled in his chest and he gripped her tightly, pressing the gun to her head. He would have killed her. He should have killed her, but the warm honeyed scent of her hit him, and the heat of her body against his chest made him hesitate. Until the heat of her hand literally burned him. She was pyrokinetic. Holy shit!
The Master would kill for a prize like that and he knew he should have taken her. If he could figure out how to do that without ending
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