Chapter 3
My thoughts were still in the bargain when we left the priceless reaction of the proud fat lady that left the venue when the reenactment still played fresh in my head.
"How much for him?"
The grand seller scanned through me and smirked.
"Starting price is a hundred Gold Qhatts,"
Gold? The bidding streak is very pricey for just a mere slave. I wonder, how come? I inspect the rugged whipped boy that looked pitiful. Underneath his locks, I saw his eyes. They were a mystic emerald light olive with honey specks. Such a wonder.
The man holding the rugged slave boy captive by metal chains on his n3ck and wrists and ankles.
His eyes scan me down. Then he saw my crest ring that symbolized my status. I most due believed he knew my lineage. As he left the keys of the chained slave in my care.
"Never remove the chain on his neck." He whispered quite to my ear alone.
My kind was very prominent and was high on the anarchy of species. Since we won the war between magical beings. We have placed 3rd among the other kind those above us were demigods and elves.
That was both undoubtedly the powerful based on their mystic and blood alone. They were very rare and almost in extinction because of humans hunting them for their power knowledge and of course magic.
All eyes are on me. I caught the attention of everyone as whispers and gossip spreads in murmurs in the shadow of the elegant bid tables.
Annoying as it all seems. I let down my hood as the shocked stares as the paleness of my skin. Like ivory illuminates and astounded everyone with gasps of surprise. The ridicule came to a halt as they bowed in respect, for I'm a higher race than them. I was a pure-blood dhampir my half vampire pure-blood mother and the richest most powerful purest blood vampire Vlad My father was the successor of Dracula.
Yes. 'Thee Count Dracula '
Count Dracula is an undead, centuries-old vampire, and a Transylvanian nobleman who claims to be a Székely descended from Attila the Hun. He inhabits a decaying castle in the Carpathian Mountains near the Borgo Pass. Unlike the vampires of Eastern European folklore, which are portrayed as repulsive, corpse-like creatures, Dracula is handsome and charismatic, with a veneer of aristocratic charm. In his conversations with Jonathan Harker, he reveals himself as deeply proud of his boyar heritage and nostalgic for the past in which he admits has become only a memory of heroism, honor, and valor in modern times.
A legend, so they say.
When Dracula's brides attempt to seduce Jonathan Harker, Dracula physically assaults one and ferociously berates them for their insubordination.
He appreciates ancient architecture, and when purchasing a home he prefers them to be aged, saying "A new home would kill me", and that to make a new home habitable to him would take a century.
as they reminded me of that my ancestry with my great-grandpa Count Drac, another bidder raises the price to a Gold Qhatts.
I followed suit I was persistent in winning this bid.
A vast amount of a whooping ten thousand Gold Qhatts, I won. But this slave walked with his head down. I try to look into his eyes as he stared right at me. Like a pup. I found him so adorable and strikingly handsome at the same time. I was a teen vampire with hormones because of the long hibernation.
Myths make us look like lifeless demons that suck on blood not needing anything else. But they are so wrong cause we vampires also need to copulate. Plus, like animals, we also feel and feed on emotions, but not as much as mortals are. I am a vampiress-in-the-making which means I'm part royal and part pureblood vampire, the night demon.
Mine is insatiable sometimes I may get extreme and claw my sharp nails that deep in the flesh of my lover or bite too hard that they faint. I try to control myself, but it is indeed insatiable, and it was more of a need like hunger in famine.
It may seem like an exaggeration to some. But that is how it feels, like being part human intensifies the need for my carnal desire broiling inside me like a caged wild beast upon a small meat scrap that is barely filling to devour.
I felt so lustful as my cheeks burned scarlet; I avert my gaze with my hand partially covering my cheek. His eyes though mesmerizing they look void and empty his aura was gloomy and dark. I talked to him.
"What is your name?"
"Ma..."
"Max..." the slave's voice was thin and more like a whistle at its softness.
"Maks?"
I don't know if my ears clogged, or the weather dulled his voice that I may butcher the correct pronunciation of his name. But he simply nodded; like what I said was his birth name. "Maks. "
It bothered me it wasn't 'Max' but he deemed it was alright. He didn't react harshly to what I said.
As the storm went wrong, we rode home to my private carriage a good thirty-minute ride, as with all the bumpy pavements of the rocks and pebbles in the array. It was a shortcut to the mansion in which the estate of my ancestry was located.
The Latifa mansion. Built with the old Victorian style with asphalt ceramic vermillion, orange and stone hatched walls grew with molds because of their longevity. It had collected green and algae moss in the corners that gave a more refreshing feel of the immense house of blood-suckers.
"Welcome back young mistress your father- ,"
He held his head up as he saw the chained boy I brought home "mistress stand behind me."
"How dare you welcome yourself, infidel!"
"Now. Now. Andrew this is Maks. My servant."
"Servant? Does your father have news of this 'deal-ship?'"
"No. Not yet."
His brow raised and feeling as his mouth gap open for a moment of thought. "What do you plan to do to your 'servant?'"
"I haven't thought about it."
The skeptical and pessimistic butler gave a concerned look to her. "Don't be such a spoilsport. I'm sure I will have use of him." And went to her quarters with the boy.
"I just spent all my money… on a boy," I murmured while biting my thumb.
"He is yours, milady." the realization hit me as the butler's words reached my ear.
The slave boy's eyes looked at me.
Yeah. He sure is... mine.
A grin forming in the corner of my lips.