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strong as I had hoped it would be. I was so weak. He d taken so much of my blood; and
his cloak of dark magic was draped heavily over me. He wouldn t let it up not even a
little.
Patrick cocked his head to one side and regarded me with a gentle fondness. It was
so strange when he looked at me like that. There was tenderness in the beautiful features
of the devil. And the most bizarre thing about it was that I knew it was genuine. I could
feel it just as I felt everything about the vampire king.
The young man that they now chained to the ground in front of me was a musician.
I d met him in a bar a few nights ago. That night, I d run away from the mansion, using
the magic I d gained to meld through one of the walls and actually take to the skies when
I d reached the other side. Flying was my favorite of my new abilities and I used it
whenever I got the opportunity. Unfortunately, flying is a basic ability of vampires as
well, so it wasn t at all difficult for them to come after me.
- 34 -
Heather Killough-Walden
Sometimes, we forget the important things&
When I landed in the alley behind the club that night, I d heard the band playing.
They sounded like Nickelback. I like Nickelback. The music had drawn me inside.
I found a seat at the back where I could keep my eye on the door and I ordered a
beer. Then I listened. After a few drinks, I was even closing my eyes and listening. I had
paid special attention to the drummer because I, myself, loved to drum. It was one of the
few things in this god-forsaken world that managed to take my mind off of my life at
least, before I d met Patrick Sinclaire, it was, anyway.
Going into that bar was a horrible mistake, as I was learning now. It was a horrible,
dangerous mistake, for one thing, to escape from the mansion. But it was an even worse
mistake to escape from the mansion and then give another man my attentions. No matter
what form those attentions might take.
To be honest, it hadn t been entirely my fault. The alcohol was partly to blame. But
there was also the drummer. He d been as drawn to me as I was to him. And once the
band took their break, he went into a back room, got cleaned up, and then came out and
sat down in my booth across from me.
In all fairness, I d told him to leave.
But he d smiled a beautiful smile and asked me if I was in a band. I blinked, thrown
for a moment. Then I asked him what would make him wonder such a thing. He laughed
and admitted that he d caught me drumming along with him he mimed a tapping on the
table and I blushed.
No, I said. I m not in a band. I just like the drums. I took a drink of my beer and
then added, They re good for relieving pent up frustrations.
- 35 -
The Patrick Sinclaire Story
He laughed and it was a beautiful sound. I d heard better laughs, admittedly, but for a
human, he was quite charming.
Yeah, beating the crap out of something for a while will usually do the trick.
And from there, we had talked. I don t know how long I d been in the bar when the
vampires came for me. I felt them, first. It was something carried on the wind; a sensation
in the air around me.
Like Spiderman s danger sense.
I stood up and told the drummer that I had to leave. He asked me why and stood to
walk me out, but I shook my head. No. Stay here. I slipped my coat on. And if anyone
asks if you saw me, you have no idea who the hell they re talking about.
I must have said this with enough gravity that it hit home with him that I wasn t
kidding around. Someone was after me. His expression became patently concerned.
Are you in some kind of trouble? He asked.
I smiled a wry smile and turned to leave. You have no idea.
That was then.
This was now.
And the drummer was chained to metal loops in the stone floor. Once the men
finished securing him and stepped out of his line of sight, his eyes locked with mine.
You! He tried to sit up, but the chains prevented him from doing so. His eyes
searched my face. His expression pleaded, What the hell is going on?
Oh god& I muttered, yanking violently against my bonds. The movement caused a
wave of dizziness to wash over me. I closed my eyes against it. Patrick s gaze burned into
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Heather Killough-Walden
me. I opened my eyes again and looked at the vampire king. Patrick, please, let him
go& I could only whisper this time.
Patrick s gentle smile turned cold.
As I always could, I felt him communicate telepathically with his men. Two of them
stepped forward to tower over the prisoner. He looked up at them apprehensively, but to
his credit, he said nothing.
And then one of them pulled back and kicked him hard in the ribs. I heard his boot
connect with the drummer s bones and, at the same time, heard myself cry out against it.
As I did, another intrusive wave of pleasure rolled through me. An orgasm ripped a
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