The Possessive Creator (Book I)

(6) Present

(6)Present: 2012

Why was I yet again strapped to his car-seat? I don’t know why I let him, but I did. He didn’t trust me enough to let me loose in his truck, and yet I let him strap me in the seat with a harness and chains so that I wouldn’t get all fangs on him. Yes, I truly was an idiot.

He had his jaw clenched, and his fingers kept tapping on the steering wheel nervously. The suspense would have been killing me if I weren’t already dead. I could hear his heart pounding away as if it were teasing me.

“You can either stake me or feed me. Your choice, master,” I told him flatly.

He pursed his lips as if he were deciding. I wasn’t that worried really. The thirst, the running, the fear; I wasn’t afraid of a stake. Heck, I was delirious almost. I watched as Jeremy reached into his dark backpack and pulled out a packet of red delicious O positive blood.

“When was the last time you’ve killed?” he asked quietly as he looked out of the windshield.

My fangs extended and I reached weakly for the packet—only to come up short. “Days and days,” I replied in a hiss.

“I’m going to give you a little at a time. If you try anything, I’ll pour some water on you, I swear. And you know I won’t break promises.”

I nodded, desperate for my throat to quit burning in thirst.

He got out a simple cup that looked like one I had seen in a bathroom once. It was tiny and white with a little floral print on it. He poured a little of the blood into the cup, nearly spilling some on his jeans.

“I’m going to give this to you, and you will take it carefully,” he told me.

I took the cup like he told me to, and then drank it all. I even licked the cup clean.

“I want to know more about your maker.”

My eyes widened. Why him? Out of all of the things he could ask me, why does it have to be about my maker? The one I can’t seem to get away from fast enough. “What about him?” I demanded sharply.

“When was he created?”

I shrugged. “1802, I think. He only told me once.”

“Who created him?”

“No, I get blood for answering that one. Every question I answer, you give me a little cup of blood. Understood?”

He narrowed his eyes before pouring me another cup and waiting as I gulped in down. “Who created him?”

I hated this. It was nearly as bad as holy water being splashed on me. “A lonely woman named Elizabeth did. I don’t see why you should care about any of this.”

“If you’ve lived your life not knowing that creatures such as yourself exist, then you might be a little curious as well. I’m very interested in your history, Lucy.”

“Honestly, my history isn’t interesting. I was created like this, and I was with my creator for a long time. End of story. Now where is my next drink?”

He poured another cup and handed it to me. “Is Elizabeth still alive?”

“Probably. Xavier hated talking about that woman. She was a little insane. I don’t want any more questions about her because I know nothing about her really.”

He handed me another cup. “Do witches and werewolves exist? Or what about ghosts or aliens?”

I laughed in a strange way. It was a genuine laugh that I hadn’t heard from myself in at least two decades. “Aliens? Who knows? Witches and werewolves yes. I’m also quite positive about ghosts as well. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting them though.”