187 Lisa: Fae Blessed
LISA
Eternity is a bitch.
That’s the conclusion I’ve come to after being locked in this room.
Living forever, with nothing ever changing? That’s enough to drive anyone crazy. No wonder that asshole vampire is the way he is.
Sometimes, I think I’ve been awake for days; other times, I think I’ve been asleep for longer. My meals don’t seem to come at any consistent time, and Marisol’s temper fluctuates every time I see
her.
Today, she’s cold, nearly throwing the tray in my direction.
Cold soup splatters. The strawberries look wilted. Still, no utensils. to make my life easier.
At this point, I’m used to the filth of living here, and even the disgrace of utilizing a waste bucket.
Still, compared to before…
It’s pretty good.
That crazy vampire hasn’t returned, and I’m never going to complain about his absence.
It’s as if Marisol can read my mind, because she suddenly says, sounding childish and petulant, “Master’s been searching for a friend for you.”
A wilted chunk of strawberry drops from my fingers, gathering dirt
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as it rolls across the stone floor. “A friend?”
My heart rate increases drastically as I think of Ava.
“A unicorn,” she sneers.
Unicorn?
Living as I am in a tiny stone room, chained to the floor with manacles that have my wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, with no clothes, by an insane vampire–I probably shouldn’t be so skeptical at the idea of hunting down a unicorn.
But that very human side of me just stares, flabbergasted.
“A real unicorn?”
She rolls her eyes in a bratty way, and a part of me wonders if that’s how I look to my parents.
I miss them.
I try not to think about them too often.
“A Fae–blessed human. Like yourself.” She points to the underside
of her breast.
This is the most interesting conversation she’s ever offered, and I straighten, my food forgotten in my hunger for information. “Fae–blessed…? What do you mean?”
Marisol sighs, before clomping her way over and grabbing my left breast, pulling it up and poking beneath it with one elegantly manicured finger. “There. Fae–blessed. It left its Mark.”
Yanking away from her, my entire body shudders in rejection at her touch. My skin crawls, though she clearly has no prurient
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– 10) (as as far
design.
Her lips curve in dark amusement, her green eyes sharp as they take in my every reaction.
The Marisol today is nothing like the girl I met for the first time. Then she was timid, perhaps even naive, and living in her own world.
Today, there’s a wicked glint in her eye and a devious curve to her lips. She’s harder, harsher, and very much mentally present.
I don’t like this Marisol very much.
It’s then that I realize there are no bite marks on her body. No -bruises. Her skin is clear and unblemished, though still sickly, with
that odd translucent sheen to it.
Is it a reaction to his absence? To the lack of feeding?
My fingers tremble as I lift my breast, peering at the underside. There’s nothing there except the birthmark I’ve always had–an irregularly shaped patch of skin that’s almost golden against the
Her voice drips with a strange mix of envy and derision that makes my skin prickle.
“What are you talking about?” I demand, crossing my arms across my chest for the little bit of privacy it allows me. The sudden movement makes the chains rattle. “What blessing? What does my birthmark have to do with anything?”
Marisol’s eyes narrow into slits as she looks at me again. Her lips. curl back from her teeth in a sneer that twists her delicate features into something ugly. “You think I care about the words of a slut like you?” She lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “You’re nothing. Just a toy for the Master to play with until he gets bored. You won’t replace me. You can’t.”
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