The Undead's Personal Slave

Samantha stared out the airplane window, her reflection a ghostly overlay on the clouds below. The past few months had been a whirlwind of heartache and change. She never imagined she'd be returning home like this—divorced, jobless, and feeling more lost than ever. As the plane descended, memories of her life abroad flashed through her mind. The excitement of starting anew, the whirlwind romance, the fairy tale wedding. And then, the crushing betrayal. Finding her husband in bed with another woman had shattered her world and her self-esteem. Now, at thirty-two, Samantha felt like she was starting over from scratch. She'd gained weight during her marriage, comfort eating to cope with her loneliness. Her once vibrant wardrobe had been replaced with shapeless, dark clothes that matched her mood. The plane touched down with a jolt, snapping Samantha from her gloomy thoughts. As she collected her luggage and hailed a taxi, a mix of nostalgia and anxiety swirled in her chest. Everything looked both familiar and strange, like a vivid dream of a place she once knew. In her hotel room, Samantha unpacked halfheartedly. She'd arranged to meet her best friend, Lily, for lunch tomorrow. The thought of seeing a friendly face brought a small smile to her lips, but it quickly faded. How could she face Lily like this? Broken, overweight, a complete mess. Samantha flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the room pressed in on her. She couldn't bear to be alone with her thoughts for another minute. "I need a drink," she muttered, pushing herself up. The night air was cool on her skin as Samantha wandered the city streets. So much had changed since she'd left. New buildings reached for the sky, their glass facades reflecting the twinkling stars. Trendy cafes and boutiques lined the sidewalks, filled with laughing young people. Samantha felt like a ghost, drifting unseen through the crowds. Her eyes landed on a sign that made her pause. "The Black Swan," it read in elegant script. The bar's facade was sleek and modern, with hints of Art Nouveau in its curving lines. Something about the place drew her in. As she pushed open the heavy door, a shiver ran down her spine. The air inside felt... different. Charged, somehow. Samantha shook her head, dismissing the odd sensation. It was just nerves, she told herself. The interior of The Black Swan was unlike any bar Samantha had ever seen. Plush velvet booths lined the walls, and ornate chandeliers cast a warm glow over everything. But what really caught her attention were the dancers. On several small stages and poles throughout the bar, women moved with inhuman grace. Their beauty was otherworldly, features so perfect they almost hurt to look at. Samantha found herself staring, mesmerized by their fluid movements. She made her way to the bar, feeling plain and awkward in comparison to the ethereal dancers. The bartender turned to her, and Samantha's breath caught in her throat. He was strikingly handsome, with chiseled features and eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. "What can I get you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that Samantha felt in her chest. "Uh, just a glass of red wine, please," she managed to stammer out. The bartender's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face. "You new in town?" he asked as he poured her drink. Samantha let out a awkward laugh. "Not exactly. I grew up here, actually. Just got back after being away for a long time." The bartender nodded slowly, sliding her wine across the bar. As Samantha reached for it, a man a few seats down leaned towards her. "Well, welcome back, beautiful," he said with a predatory grin. His eyes were slightly unfocused, and Samantha could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Let me buy you another drink." Samantha tensed, clutching her wine glass. "No, thank you," she said firmly, turning away. But the man persisted, moving closer. "Aw, come on, don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly," he slurred, reaching for her arm. Suddenly, a figure stepped between them. "I believe the lady said no," a deep voice rumbled. Samantha looked up, and up, at the man who had come to her rescue. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with wavy dark hair and piercing grey eyes. His chest filled out a well-fitted black long-sleeved shirt tucked inside a pair of dark jeans. She definitely noticed that he was a tad muscular. But it wasn't just his physical appearance that struck her—it was the way he looked at her. His gaze swept over her, intense and appreciative. For the first time in months, Samantha didn't feel invisible or unattractive. This stranger was looking at her like she was the most captivating woman in the room. The drunk man muttered something under his breath and stumbled away. Samantha let out a relieved breath. "Thank you," she said to her rescuer, offering a shy smile. The man's expression changed in an instant. His eyes hardened, and his lip curled in what looked like disgust. "Stupid girl," he growled. Samantha recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "Excuse me?" Then she felt a rush of irritation. Who did he think he was to pass judgment on her? The man's lips curled into a sardonic smile, undeterred by her boldness. 'Well, aren't you a firecracker?' he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. Samantha's frustration deepened. She couldn't stand the arrogance radiating from him. 'And you,' she retorts, 'are insufferable.' But the man just smirked as he was already walking away, disappearing into the crowd. Samantha stared after him, confusion and hurt warring inside her. What had just happened? She turned back to her drink, cheeks burning with embarrassment. The bartender was watching her with an unreadable expression. "Don't take it personally," he said, leaning in. "Marcus... he's complicated." "Marcus?" Samantha repeated. "You know him?" The bartender's lips quirked in a small smile. "Everyone knows Marcus," he answered mysteriously, not adding any more details. Samantha's eyebrows shot up. Just what kind of person was this Marcus? As if summoned by her thoughts, the man in question appeared at the end of the bar. He was speaking quietly to one of the dancers, his expression intense. Samantha couldn't help but stare, captivated by the fluid grace of his movements. Marcus' head snapped up suddenly, his eyes locking with hers. Samantha quickly looked away, her heart pounding. What was wrong with her? This man had insulted her, and yet she couldn't stop thinking about him. She drained the last of her wine and stood, needing to get out of there. As she made her way to the exit, she could have sworn she felt Marcus' eyes following her every step. The cool night air was a relief after the charged atmosphere of the bar. Samantha took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. She'd come out to forget her troubles, not find new ones. As she walked back to her hotel, Samantha couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was going on at The Black Swan. The bartender's cryptic words, the otherworldly beauty of the dancers, and Marcus' bizarre behavior... it all added up to a mystery she couldn't quite solve. She was haunted by piercing green eyes and the echo of that deep voice calling her "stupid girl." Samantha hurried down the dimly lit streets, her mind still reeling from her experience at The Black Swan. The cool night air helped clear her head, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something extraordinary had happened in that bar. As she turned a corner, a muffled groan caught her attention. Samantha paused, peering into a dark alley. A figure was slumped against the wall, barely visible in the shadows. "Hello?" she called cautiously. "Are you alright?" The figure stirred, and Samantha's nursing instincts kicked in. She approached slowly, her heart racing. "Do you need help?" As she drew closer, she could make out more details. It was a young man, probably in his early twenties. He lifted his head, and Samantha's breath caught in her throat. Even in the dim light, she could see he was strikingly handsome. His features were sharp and perfectly symmetrical, almost too perfect to be real. But there was something else about him, an otherworldly quality that made her skin prickle. "I'm... hurt," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Samantha knelt beside him, her caution warring with her desire to help. "I'm a nurse," she said. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" The young man's dark eyes met hers, and Samantha felt a strange sensation wash over her. It was as if the world around them had faded away, leaving only those mesmerizing eyes. "You're going to bring me to where you're staying," he said, his voice taking on an odd, echoing quality, "and let me drink all your blood." Samantha's forehead creased in confusion. Fear bloomed in her chest, but it felt distant, muffled. "What?" she managed to say. The young man's expression changed, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision. "I... I need to go," Samantha stammered, backing away. "You seem okay now. Goodbye!" She turned and began walking as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Had he really said what she thought he said? And why had she felt so strange when he looked into her eyes? Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of her, blocking her path. Samantha gasped, stumbling backward. It was the young man from the alley. But how? She'd left him behind just seconds ago. Before she could react, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Sharp, gleaming fangs extended from the young man's mouth. Samantha opened her mouth to scream, but in a blur of motion, the man was upon her. One hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her cries. The other gripped her arm with inhuman strength. "I don't understand," he hissed, his eyes wild. "Why didn't it work on you?" Samantha struggled, but it was like fighting against a steel vise. The man—no, the creature—dragged her deeper into the alley. Samantha's mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. The otherworldly beauty, the impossible speed, the fangs... Could it be? But...how? "Vampire," she whispered against his palm, the word muffled but audible. The creature chuckled mockingly. "Well, you are impossibly smart for a human." Samantha shook her head frantically, hoping this knowledge wouldn't further endanger her life. The vampire studied her face, confusion evident in his expression. "You're human," he said. "I can smell it. How are you resisting my thrall?" Samantha shook her head again, indicating she didn't know or understand. The vampire's grip tightened again, and he leaned in close. His breath was cool against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "No matter," he growled. "I don't care." Before Samantha could react, the vampire's fangs sank into her neck. A cry of pain and fear escaped her lips, quickly fading as a strange lethargy washed over her. The world began to spin, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision. The last thing Samantha remembered was being in a dark alley, a stranger's fangs buried in her neck. Then, mercifully, everything went black.