A/N: Calling my posting the epilogue of book one late would be a bit of an understatement. And it ends rather cliffhangery. Sorry about that but here it is finally. As I have already mentioned anyone who becomes a Patreon patron at the $5 level or above will get access to the rough draft of Book 2 – Lord of the Wolves – as I write it this month and if we reach $250/month total pledges I will start posting it on the site August. If we don’t then I will start posting either when we reach that many pledges – or January 2015 whichever is earlier. I’d really like it to be earlier, but either way I will post it in the next few months. I don’t want people to think I’m holding it hostage.
For the third night in a row Laurel woke in the gloom of dusk to find that she couldn’t move.
She’d spent the first night desperately reaching out for her blood master and finding only a mental fog that stopped her cries for help reaching beyond her skull. She had just as desperately racked her brain trying to remember how this had happened but her memories of the previous few nights were confused and tattered. The overriding image was a memory of a someone attacking her and then a dark haired vampire woman kneeling beside her looking worried. The hole in her memories only increased her terror and by the time the tiniest but of dawn light slipping into her refuge plunged her back into unconsciousness she was on the verge of panic.
The second night had been nothing but panic as she fought uselessly against whatever force was holding her still and screamed for Michael in her head even though she knew no one would hear her.
But now, on the third night, she found that she’d passed beyond panic into despair. She didn’t even try to stop the tears that trickled from her eyes as she resigned herself to lying helpless every night until she either starved into permanent unconsciousness or a hunter found her.
â€œOh, I doubt that, young one.â€ The voice came from somewhere by her ear and was female, gentle and sad. Even before she spoke again Laurel knew it was whoever had done this to her. â€œI’m sorry to have to do this to you, you’re very different from the others, but I couldn’t think of any other solution.â€ A cool hand touched Laurel’s forehead. â€œBut don’t you worry, from what I can see Michael is an intelligent man and he has formidable allies. I doubt you’ll lie here for long before he notices you are missing, and I’m not going to let a hunter get you, child. I’d let you call him but I fear that your enemies might hear you now they know you live.â€ The speaker seemed to hesitate. â€œBut it’s a fair point about your not being able to feed. It wouldn’t do to have you starve in your condition. That would defeat the object.â€
There was a rustling sound and an arm slipped under her shoulders and lifted her into a semi-seated position before a cup was held to her lips. The scent of cow’s blood mixed with wine tickled Laurel’s nose and she gulped it down greedily relieved to find she could still swallow. Another cup followed and then a third. Part of Laurel wished she could speak to thank the woman the rest just wanted to curse at her for what she had done.
The woman must have been listening to her thoughts because she gave a soft laugh.
â€œCurse at me, little one,â€ she advised. â€œI don’t mind. I know I deserve it and it wouldn’t be healthy to feel gratitude to someone who’s done this to you. Now how to keep you sane until help comes? Ah!â€ There was a clatter from the bedside table and then the earbuds of Laurel’s ipod were pushed into her ears. â€œThat should help distract you. I’ll feed you again tomorrow night if needed.â€ Was the last thing she heard the woman say before the ipod began playing her favourite audiobook.
A/N: Better late than never I guess.