Terryn knotted her brow and quickly looked away. She took a step backward and grabbed for the balcony railing. She clung to it as if, she let go she would simply float away.

“I don’t drink blood.” she said firmly.

“No,” he leaned his hip against the balustrade and crossed his arms, “not yet.”

“You can’t makes me!”

Jules laughed lightly, “I won’t have to.”

“You are all very confused,” Terryn shot him a burning glance, “and unwell.”

Jules sighed and ran a hand over his pale face.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” he said after a moment, “I think you should eat.”

Terryn eyed him suspiciously, “I’m not drinking blood.”

He smiled, that odd smile of his, “No, I meant...eh...human food, we don’t have much here, but I can make waffles.”

When Terryn was finally alone, she surveyed the balcony. She was only on the second story, but the house stood perched on a hill, making this drop down further than she could jump without breaking something. She looked around the room, again for a phone, but finding nothing her eyes fell on a few pairs of shoes. She tried the door, it was locked.

Well I can’t escape in this, she thought looking down at her bare feet and thin nightgown. She quickly rifled through the wardrobe to find a pair of leggings and a black t shirt.

She was lacing up the tennis shoes, when Jules knocked and let himself in.

The sweet smell of syrup wafted in the room. He was pushing a rolling cart, with a plate of fluffy waffles covered in whipped cream and a glass of orange juice. Seeing she was dressed, he frowned.

“Going somewhere?”

She rolled her eyes, “I just wanted to be more comfortable.”

The smell of the warm food filled the room and she eyed the plate hungrily. Her stomach gave her away, with a pointed gurgle.

“Come on,” he crossed the room in what seemed like two steps and guided her to a pink, velvet upholstered couch.

After rolling the cart in front of her, he stood back, expectantly.

She looked at the food, then looked at him.

“Not until you eat some.”

It was Jules turn to roll his eyes, “I would not poison you.”

Terryn’s eyes narrowed. There was a long silence. Jules looked at the food with disgust, before grabbing a fork and delicately extracting a bite.

“Only for you princess,” he snarled before stuffing the mound in his mouth and chewing mechanically. It took all of Jules will to hold down the sweet pastry. “Delicious,” he managed.

I’m going to be so sick, he thought as he thrust the fork at her. His eyes fell on Terryn, who seemed suspicious, but satisfied. Her hunger overcoming her, she picked up a fork and started to eat.

Jules noted her eyes were the same soft brown, with a reddish glow as Zane’s, fringed by long, dark silky lashes. Her cheeks, which had been blanched with fear, blushed slightly, framed by a mess of dark auburn curls. Seeing her finally peaceful, Jules natural arousal surfaced and his cheeks flushed. It wasn’t sexual, though she was beautiful, but the primordial wave of pleasure that could only be found in satisfying their blood connection. Pulling in the gentle scent of magnolias rising above syrup into his lungs, he knew she was his princess and he only desired to serve her.

After she’d eaten, Jules passed a glamour over her eyes and she fell asleep. That’s about as much as I can take for one night, he thought as he carried her to the large bed and set her down.

Once he was sure she was comfortable and asleep he locked her door and he retreated to his room. Jamming a finger down his throat, he started to wretch until the undigested bit of waffle came up. He cranked the sink and splashed cold water onto his face, staring at himself in the mirror. How much longer of this? Jules puzzled, grabbing a towel and wiping his face. Normally with his startling looks and a little help of a glamour or two he could seduce anyone with very little effort. Luring a girl into a dark alley had never been a challenge.

She was King Zane’s progeny, in more ways than just her eyes and skin. He smiled, remembering her mother, who she looked so much like. Damya’s eyes had held the same burning wit and calculation. He remembered coming upon her while she was focused on some work, moving around her silently, trying not to disturb her as he set down a tray with her dinner, a carafe filled with red liquid. Her vermilion curls glowing gold in candlelight. Jules closed his eyes to savor the image. He remembered Damya’s smile when she’d presented him to her as just a baby wrapped in silk sheets.

“You have to taste her, so you can always find her,” she’d cooed in her husky voice.

“I’m not worthy my queen,” he’d dropped to his knees and cast his eyes away from the wriggling little bundle. He’d looked up to her gentle hand on his head, “Jules, I’ve chosen you and you will be hers. Do not defy me.” He couldn’t and he hadn’t wanted to, but to be taken as the princesses servant was the highest honor that could be bestowed on his kind. To drink her blood, even a drop was-- The pressure was more than a little intimidating. Jules straightened, not allowing himself to recall the moment, it was too intimate. That little baby, was now a young woman, asleep in the room next door. He could feel her heartbeat, as he always had since he’d taken that tiny bite.

When Terryn woke again, it was daylight, sun streamed in from the large french windows and stopped just short of the bed. There was another tray next to her bed with a glass of water and bagels on it. She grimaced her eyes aching, he must have drugged me. She slid off the bed and towards the window to look outside. It was too bright and she was struck with a migraine. Damnit, she thought, instinctively pulling the curtains shut, making the room quite dark once they were drawn. Her face was still damp, what had they kept giving her? She felt sick. She was both desperately starving and repulsed by the food all at once. She snatched the glass off of the table and took it to the bathroom, dumping the contents and refilling it from the tap. She took a long drink, hoping that it would clear her head. I have to escape. When she felt steadied, she moved to the heavy door that kept her trapped, it was locked of course, and there was no sound outside in the hallway. She dropped to her knees and tried to peek under it. There was no movement at all. After wriggling the handle a bit and finding it wouldn’t budge, she moved to the french doors, flinging open the curtains.

“Gah,” She gasped, the sunlight was so bright, her skin prickled and her eyes burned. Squinting as best she could, she threw open the doors and shielding her eyes, peeked over the edge of the balcony. It was a long drop. She looked back into the room for something she could use as a rope.

She pulled the heavy mattress off the bed with strength she didn’t know she’d had and sweating, tipped it over the side. It landed with a heavy thunk. She looked around, but saw no one and taking a deep breath she hurled herself over.

Her landing was not as graceful as she’d hoped and she felt her ankle twist painfully under the weight of her body. I have to go, she thought frantically, her skin still electrified with the odd burning sensation. Her eyes and her instincts begged for the thick, dark woods across the garden. She took off in that direction as fast as she could limp. When she finally reached it, shielded in it’s cool canopy, she looked back at the building. From far away, it looked like an old plantation style hotel, painted white. The first floor had a long veranda with a fountain in the middle.

There was no movement, no one had noticed her escape. She turned away from the blinding whiteness of the daylight and dragged herself further into the woods. She didn’t know which way would take her to civilization, but the opposite direction seemed a good start.

Terryn walked for hours, until her burning skin and fever overtook her. She had to rest. After a bit of looking, she found a gnarled tree stump and crawled inside. The cool darkness was a blessed reprieve and very soon she was asleep.

“She could have DIED.” Zane’s booming baritone rattled the paintings on the wall. “Your one job. Your ONLY JOB is to serve and protect her and you can’t even do that in her own home!” Jules feet were dangling six inches off the ground as Zane’s firm hand pressed him up against the wall.

“I’m sorry my lord, I’m not worthy of such a position.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks. When he’d found Terryn, just before sundown 4 miles into the woods and stuffed in a tree trunk he’d cried and hadn’t stopped since. He’d felt her absence the moment he’d woken, her heartbeat nearby, but not ask close and weaker than it should be. When he came rushing down the grand stairway Zane was already up, pacing, and waiting for the sun to go down. His eyes, burning embers, had shaken Jules to the core. “Bring her to me.” he’d hissed. God, I’m an idiot, he thought, his mind racing as he glided past the garden and into the woods, I shouldn’t have gone to sleep.

“Sorry is not enough,” he threw Jules body like a ragdoll across the room where a heavy wooden door stopped it. He scrambled to upright himself, but instead of standing, he crouched down on his knees, dipping his head into a low bow, he felt blood slip down his chin, but he didn’t dare to wipe it away.

“I’ve failed her, there can be no forgiveness for my crime. Please erase me from this world.”

Zane growled audibly, “I should...I should kill you but...Damya” his eyes softened, “Damya trusted you...and...we need you. You cannot make mistakes.”

The King sat down hard, and dropped his head to his knees.

“I think we need more help with her, I can’t...bring her up all by myself. She’s only going to get stronger and she’s stubborn like her mother.”

Jules stared down at the ground, “You aren’t alone, my lord. I--”

“Silence!” Jules prostrated his body lower, that had been a mistake.

“The transition is starting, you will be with her at ALL TIMES, day and night. Tie her to her bed if you have to, but you will not make another error with her life.”

Jules nodded, remaining pressed to the floor.

Zane lifted his sleeve and with a swift movement opened a deep gash in his wrist, blood pouring into a crystal carafe.

“She needs this. Make her drink it. Do not make me regret letting you live Jules.”

Jules silently and swiftly took the container and left the room.