As Emily was swallowed up by the club, with all its riotous colors and dancing, pounding music, and sinuous writhing of bodies, she clutched the wooden stake tight in her hand. She hated hunting in places like this. It set all her old military instincts on edge. Watch your six, check the corners, keep line-of-sight to the exits - none of that made any sense in such a chaotic environment. She couldn’t control what was going on around her. It made her feel defenseless.

Emily ran her fingers up and down the stake in her hand, taking a moment to feel the grain of the wood and remind herself of its heft. No, she told herself. She wasn’t the defenseless one here.

She was the hunter. And the vampire nesting here was her prey.

It was a typical enough haunt for a bloodsucker. Dark, sensual, open all night, lots of potential, pliable victims. An ideal hunting ground. This one, in particular, was a lesbian club, and Emily had to grant the vampire a little grudging respect for that. It was the kind of place she might have enjoyed spending time herself if she wasn’t on the hunt. Picking up a girl was a nice way to blow off steam, and what kind of lesbian wouldn’t go for a tall, strong, athletic dyke in a leather jacket and combat boots? Just as long as they didn’t mind that she was trans, anyway.

But that would have to wait for another night. Tonight, Emily could afford no distractions. She was an experienced hunter, but vampires were never easy to bring down. Emily kept her ears strained to hear over the loud music, and she kept scanning the room, searching for the slightest hint of reddened eyes or sharpened fangs. Nothing yet. In all likelihood, the creature was holed up in a private room out back or on the floors above. That was their usual way: a quiet little den, a place to sleep through the day and feed undisturbed at night. So, slowly and cautiously, Emily started making her way towards the back of the club, although she had to struggle to push her way through the tight crush of dancing bodies, made strange and hard to track by the dim, shifting, flickering, multi-colored club lights.

“Hello there, stranger,” someone whispered in her ear. “Are you looking for a good time?”

Without warning, some girl - drunk, probably - was draped across Emily’s shoulder. Emily did her best to brush her off, but the girl was clinging to her tight, entangling their limbs together.

“Hey,” the girl drawled insistently. “There’s no need to be so rude!”

“Not tonight,” Emily grunted. “Busy. Out of my way.”

The girl didn’t budge. Wary of distractions, Emily kept scanning the club. The girl was pressed up to her side, and all Emily saw of her was a shock of long, curly, red hair. Still no sign of the bloodsucker.

“Come on now.” The girl was purring right into her ear now. Her words sounded strange; it was as if she had a hint of some weird, old-timey accent. Maybe she was on something. “What’s the hurry?”

“Looking for someone,” Emily replied. She couldn’t spare the energy to think of a lie.

“Aww!” The stranger made a pouty noise. Emily still couldn’t seem to shake her off. She was surprisingly strong and clingy, for a party girl. “You’re all taken already? I can’t have you?”

“Not tonight.”

“Who you looking for?” the girl whined.

Emily sighed. Maybe if she just answered, the girl would leave her alone.

“Letitia,” she said. “Letitia Clarendon. Know her?”

“Oh!” the girl replied brightly. “In that case, I guess you’re all mine after all!”

A single heartbeat after all the alarm bells sounded in Emily’s head, she felt two sharp fangs plunge into her neck.

Emily didn’t scream. She was far too much of a pro for that. All around her, people kept drinking, dancing, laughing - but the vampire hunter was keenly aware of the fact that she was in dire danger. Emily turned, thrashing, elbowing - but now the vampire was using all her unholy strength, and Emily could already feel the creature’s soporific venom spreading through her body.

With each drop of blood Letitia Clarendon sucked from her veins, the vampire grew stronger, and Emily grew weaker.

“Get the fuck off me!” Emily roared. Mustering all her strength, she managed to wrench her body forward, out of the vampire’s grasp. Emily had time to let out a single gasp of relief, before wheeling to face her foe, stake raised.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Letitia sang. As lights flickered on, Emily saw pale skin, red lips, a wide smile, and blood. “I like it rough, see. And I think I’d like to keep you.”

Emily was ready to strike. She was ready to defend. She wasn’t ready for the vampire to surge forward and kiss her.

She felt the bloodsucker’s lips against her own before she knew what was happening. The vampire was a formidable kisser, despite her grave-cold flesh; she teased Emily’s lips apart effortlessly, and the vampire hunter found her mouth invaded by a tongue that was unnaturally long and impossibly nimble.

And that was coated in something that tasted of iron and sin.

A little of it had already trickled down Emily’s throat before she figured out what it was. Blood. And not her own. Not human. No, there was something distinctly unnatural about the taste. The vampire must have pricked her tongue on her own fang as she moved in for the kiss.

She was feeding Emily vampire’s blood. Vitae.

Emily recoiled violently at the sensation of that poison being poured down her throat. She tried to make herself choke it up, but the vitae was somehow sticky and slick in equal measure, and with the vampire’s tongue prying her throat open, Emily couldn’t keep it up. Letitia’s kiss was equally as inescapable. She was wrapped around Emily like a serpent, coiling tight, clinging, somehow guiding Emily as the two of them stumbled and struggled.

“Come now.” Letitia drew back, just barely, so she could hiss to Emily. Her voice was dripping with sour candy. “Let us get to know each other somewhere a little more private.”

Before Emily could spit a reply, the vampire’s tongue was back in her mouth, pumping even more of her poison past the hunter’s lips. Emily was still trying to throw her off, but something about the blood she was unwillingly imbibing was robbing her of her strength. Her vision was blurring, and she was finding it hard to resist as Letitia dragged her through the club and out towards the back rooms.

To anyone else, they probably just looked like one more pair of drunk, horny, stumbling lesbians.

Once the vampire finally drew back and allowed Emily to take a breath, the two of them were in a large, private room, luxuriously decorated, illuminated by low, steady, yellow lamps. Emily bent double and heaved, trying to will her body to expel everything she’d just drunk. It didn’t work.

“My, my,” Letitia purred. “Aren’t you a strapping thing?”

Emily looked up and, for the first time, got a real look at her prey.

Letitia Clarendon, vampire, was around a hundred years old, and came from an upper-class, old-money background. That was about all Emily’s research had given her. The real thing certainly bore that out. Letitia was only medium-height, but she certainly carried herself like an aristocrat. She had long, red, rich, curly hair, high, arching cheekbones, and freckled, milk-pale skin, lit within by a slight, pink blush that Emily knew came only from the blood the vampire had just drunk. She had an aristocrat's figure, too; plump from indulgence, and all the more alluring for it.

For a moment, Emily was struck by the odd notion that, in another life, Letitia could have made for a perfect farmgirl. Soft, rosy, warm, sun-kissed. Instead, she was a pale, immortal predator from another age.

Letitia’s attire - a floor-length dress, accented by no small amount of jeweled finery - was just as old-fashioned as her accent, but thanks to a few modern touches, probably let her pass herself off as some kind of devoted subculture fashionista. Anyone who looked too closely, though, would be sure to see that her apparent humanity was nothing more than a paper-thin veneer spread across undeniable monstrosity. Her eyes gleamed with a wicked, red light, she had a corpse’s countenance, and two of her teeth were far, far too long to be natural. Still, there was an undeniable, elfen beauty to her undeath that stirred even Emily. She was having a hard time peeling her gaze away from the vampire’s figure.

But more than anything else, Emily hated her. She simply hated her.

It didn’t matter what they looked like. She hated every single one of those bloodsuckers. Emily had vowed to devote her life to hunting them down. Letitia Clarendon had already given her more trouble than any yet - but Emily was sure she could still put her down. A little exchanged blood didn’t change a thing.

The stake in her hand was still sharp, and Emily still had the strength to lift it. That was all that counted.

“Darling,” Letitia drawled, as Emily raised her weapon, “if you wanted to dance, you ought to have simply asked. You really are my type.”

Emily’s lips pulled back into a snarl. “Funny. Real funny.”

“Oh, darling,” Letitia tutted. “Who’s joking? You’re really quite the kisser, you know. Enthusiastic. I enjoyed it.”

The vampire made a show of opening her mouth and letting her elongated drool out of her mouth, dripping some of her own black vitae onto the floor. As she lapped at her own fangs, polishing them clean, Emily was embarrassed to note a strange shiver race down her spine. She thought, unwillingly, about just how dexterous that organ was, and about how it had felt when it had forced its way into her mouth and down her throat.

Then she thought about how much of the vampire’s blood she’d drunk. She’d heard stories, of course. Dependency. Thralldom. She didn’t know exactly how much vitae that required, or exactly how much she’d drunk. Was it already doing something to her?

With all her being, Emily rejected that. She summoned up all her hate for the unholy, predatory creature standing before her, and spat it in her face.

“Fuck you.” Emily’s voice came out alarmingly thick. “Go fuck yourself.”

Joy danced in Letitia’s eyes. “You’d enjoy watching that, I’m sure.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Even more than you enjoyed our kiss, perhaps.”

“Bullshit! Fuck you!” Why was it suddenly so hard for Emily to find her fire?

“Oh, darling.” Letitia licked her lips. Another treasonous shiver. “I can see for myself that you’re not being truthful. Slut.”

Her eyes flicked down pointedly as she spat out that last, pointed syllable. Emily couldn’t help but look down too, following the vampire’s gaze. Once she saw it, her cheeks started to burn.

Emily was hard.

Despite the folds in her loose combat pants, it was unmistakable. Emily was hard. Harder than she’d ever been, maybe. At once, her bravado was undercut by embarrassment. Suddenly, the nature of her distraction was so much clearer. Emily’s overpowering attraction to the vampire standing before her was buzzing in the back of her brain.

Emily immediately started flailing for an explanation. She was a lesbian, yes, but this was more than that. Normally, she would never allow herself to feel such longing for an undead monster like Letitia.

“Who cares?” Emily spat, with a fierceness she was no longer sure she felt. “You’re about to be dust.”

Letitia let out a loud, shrill laugh. “My! You really are something.” She licked her lips once more. “Yes. Yes, I really must make you mine.”

Emily snarled furiously. She decided to end this before the vampire could confuse her any further. Drawing on all her strength, all her hate, Emily raised her stake and charged forward. Vampires could be inhumanly fast, but Emily’s combat instincts were honed to a razor’s sharpness. She crossed the short distance between them in no time at all. As the tip of Emily’s stake scythed through the air, towards Letitia’s chest, she rejoiced as she saw that the vampire hadn’t even raised a hand to defend herself.

Typical bloodsucker. Too cocky, and too slow when it really counted. It was already over.

Then, Emily’s arm froze.

It took her a long moment to realize what had happened. At first, Emily thought that she’d hit some kind of forcefield, or perhaps that time itself had ground to a halt. Eventually, though, she realized that her muscles had simply locked up. Her limbs felt like iron girders. They refused to obey her commands, and Emily was left standing there like a scarecrow, paralyzed, stake held mere inches from its target.

Letitia’s lips curled up into a smirk.

“W-what did you do to me?” Emily whispered. For the first time ever, she felt powerless on a hunt.

“You’re taking to it well,” Letitia noted, pleased. “Yes. Yes, I think we’re going to get along beautifully, darling hunter.”

The savage confidence in Letitia’s voice made Emily step backward. Discovering she could move again restored her confidence, but that drained away again just as quickly when she realized that she still couldn’t strike at Letitia. Every time she tried, her body rebelled. Something inside her was fighting Emily’s commands. It was like there was something black and wet wrapped around her spine, pulling her nerve endings like strings, formed of an inexplicable reluctance to hurt the monstrous creature bearing down on her.

The vitae. It had to be.

“What’s the matter, hunter?” Letitia chided. She took one step forward; Emily, one back. “Where’s that adorable confidence? Where’s that strength now?”

Emily opened her mouth, but all that came out was a strangled grunt. She kept backing away, but Letitia kept coming, and all that came into Emily’s head were useless, childish protestations at the unfairness of the vampire’s power.

Those, and stray, unwelcome observations about her unnatural beauty.

“Come now,” Letitia chided. “Don’t run. Let me get a proper taste of you.”

Emily felt her back hit the wall. Nowhere left to run. Some hunter.

“Don’t worry.” Letitia’s smile made her fangs look sharper than ever. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Until the bitter end, Emily tried to make herself strike at Letitia, but it was useless. Once the vampire’s fangs pierced her jugular, even that rebellious urge drained away. By the time Letitia started feeding Emily more of her vitae, the hunter was far too weak to do anything but lap it up.

Shamefully, despite the blood loss, she remained hard the entire time.

***

Without real energy or enthusiasm, Emily once again yanked at the sturdy, iron chain binding her to the wall.  Sitting, slumped, she watched forlornly as, unsurprisingly, the bracket didn’t even budge.

There was no escape. But then, Emily had already figured that out a long time ago.

It had been weeks. At least, Emily thought so. All she had to count by were the glimmers of sunlight that passed through the cracks in the paint on the blacked-out windows, but she was starting to lose track of exactly how many nights it had been. At first, things like that had seemed important - counting the days, figuring out where she was and how to get away. Emily had the sense that she was somewhere high up, perhaps in the disused rooms a few floors up from Letitia’s club. But over time, fear and boredom had given way to a kind of haze in which nothing mattered at all. She’d even abandoned the exercise regimen she’d planned to keep herself in fighting form for when the vampire came.

But when she came, there was never any question of fighting.

Letitia’s irregular appearances were the only times anything at all seemed to matter. They were the only times Emily felt alive. Every time her ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps, Emily’s breast swelled with a sick kind of anticipation, knowing that as soon as that strange, aristocratic creature appeared, Emily’s heart would begin to pound again with a heady, uncomfortable mixture of hate and admiration.

It was the only thing she seemed to feel at all, anymore. There was nothing else. Letitia Clarendon’s twisted gift had seen to that. Her unholy blood. Emily could feel the inky, black substance inside her, gnawing at her, hollowing her out. It was the stuff of her worst nightmares.

Emily didn’t know how to fight it. All she knew was that she had to hold on to what she was sure of: her purpose as a hunter, and her violent hatred for the bloodsucker keeping her captive.

How long? That was the question she kept asking herself. How long until someone came for her? How long until she was rescued? Only, over time, as hope had grown fainter and fainter, that question had started to change. To mutate.

How long until Letitia comes to see her again?

A footstep. At once, Emily’s pulse quickened. She was sure that a creature like Letitia could move silently, if she chose, but she couldn’t help but be grateful that Letitia allowed Emily to prepare for her coming. To savor the anticipation. Emily drew herself upright, back resting against the wall, and listened to the steps getting closer.

In the last moment before the door opened, Emily found herself grinning.

Letitia Clarendon swept into the room like the night. She was dressed, as usual, in a huge, sweeping, Victorian dress, and adorned in other, equally-archaic finery. Her fashion, it seemed, had never quite kept up with the times. She was sharp, though. Emily knew that much. Letitia knew exactly how she looked, and how best to turn it to her advantage.

There was a gleeful spring in the vampire’s step, like coming to see Emily was the highlight of her night. Emily couldn’t help but feel a little appreciative of that. By the same token, being in the same room as Letitia made Emily feel sharper. On edge. Alive. It was a chance for her to spit her fire at the bloodsucker holding her captive. To assert herself. To hear her own voice spoken out loud without talking to herself like a crazy person.

And a chance to look. Letitia Clarendon really was astonishingly beautiful. More and more, as nights passed, Emily found herself dwelling on it. She’d given up pretending she wasn’t stirred by the vampire’s appearance. By her sensual presence. The evidence was all too pressing.

Emily kept insisting to herself that it was just because she was a lesbian, and just because she didn’t have anything else to think about. That was why couldn’t help gratifying herself to the thought of Letitia between visits.

“Good evening, Emily,” Letitia greeted her, smiling. Showing teeth. “How is my hunter this fine evening?”

As she spoke, Emily noticed a fleck of crimson on the tip of one of her fangs. It made bile and choler rise in her throat.

“Not bad,” Emily spat defiantly. She was still grinning. “Strong. How about you let me out of these chains and we can find out?”

Letitia let out a merry laugh. “Good, good! I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want you to lose that fine spirit of yours.”

It was incredible how everything came into focus when Letitia was around. Suddenly, Emily’s tongue cracked like a whip. She could feel sparks in her belly. It was so much better than all that numbness. Emily had to remind herself, forcefully, that the vampire’s presence was no kindness. It was deceptively easy to forget that. Letitia Clarendon was coated with candy. Her words were thick with an overbearing sweetness that belied the malice beneath.

Emily knew better than to be fooled by such a transparently two-faced demeanor. But with Letitia, there was something slippery about it. Her presence was so undeniably pleasant and it was somehow a constant temptation to slip beneath the vampire’s flow; to take her pretty face and easy smile at face value. To treat her like a friend or a lover, instead of a captor.

To forget what she was.

Again and again, Emily had to remind herself she was dealing with a monstrous predator. Why was it so easy to lose sight of that?

Probably because of her beauty.

“Of course not,” Emily growled. “Why? What are you keeping me here for?”

“Why?” Letitia blinked at her, eyes guileless. “For the pleasure of your company, of course.”

Her beauty was oppressive. It weighed heavy on Emily’s shoulders. Frankly, she wasn’t sure how she’d ever been so oblivious to it. Emily had noticed, certainly, but somehow, on the first night, she hadn’t been dazzled by it. Letitia’s true beauty hadn’t quite struck her. Now, it was different. Just being in the same room as the vampire was distracting. What Emily had first deemed ghoulish about Letitia’s undead features, she’d now come to accept was simply her own difficulty coming to terms with physical perfection.

Yes, Letitia was perfect. Her cheekbones, her complexions, her long tongue and teeth, her ethereal red eyes - all of it was perfect. Her beauty was beyond human.

Perhaps that was why it was so treasonously tempting to just say ‘yes’ to her.

“Bullshit,” Emily spat. She refused to give in to that instinct. “I know your type. You’re hungry. Always hungry. If you’re not drinking me dry, there’s gotta be a good reason for it.”

Again, Letitia laughed merrily. She always seemed so carefree. It kept Emily wondering: what if she could find something sharp? What if she could lure the vampire just a little closer?

“I suppose you’re right,” Letitia admitted. “It’s true. I have my reasons. You see, you have something I want.”

Emily was all ears. “And what’s that?”

“I already told you,” Letitia replied. “Your spirit. You see, it really is so hard to find good servants these days.”

For five solid seconds, Emily just blinked. Then she scrunched up her face in disgust and started guffawing.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” she spat, between laughs. “Me? Serving you? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Letitia’s confidence was unmarred by Emily’s open mockery. “I hardly think so. You see, at my side, you could be magnificent. I have use for a hunter. I want you - and I always get what I want.”

Her smugness was insufferable - but beneath that, Emily couldn’t help feeling ever so slightly flattered. Letitia Clarendon wanted her. Of all people - her. It was an intoxicating notion. There was a certain pride to be taken in it, even. Part of Emily badly wanted to ask: why? Was it her looks? Her skills? Something more?

But she had more dignity than that. “Let’s get one thing straight, bloodsucker,” Emily made her gaze steel as she stared into Letitia’s eyes. “I hate your kind. I hate you. And no matter what, as long as I live, I will never, ever serve you.”

“Really?” Letitia raised an eyebrow, and then a hand.

“Yes, damn you!” Emily roared. “You fucking disgust me, vampire. I would sooner die than… I’d never… never…”

Her words died. Her eyes betrayed her, and she gave way in their little staring contest of wills. Instead, her vision locked onto something else: the little drop of black blood, welling up from where Letitia had pricked her finger on one of her talons.

And there it was again. The need.

Most of the time, during her captivity, Emily had been free from want and need. She’d felt nothing. No appetite. No hunger. But when Letitia confronted her with the vampire’s vitae, it all came roaring back. Suddenly, Emily became conscious of just how long it had been since any food had passed her lips. Her stomach, cavernous and empty, began to eat at her from the inside. A piercing, debilitating awareness of her own weakness washed over Emily. The hunter felt faint, pale, sluggish. Like she could barely move.

But one drop could fix all that. Just one drop.

Emily felt the chain pull taut around her ankle. She looked down, and realized that she’d already been crawling forward.

“I’m sorry?” Letitia said sweetly. “What was that you were saying?”

A whine forced its way past Emily’s lips. It had been like this ever since that first night. The very first drop of Letitia’s unholy blood, given in a kiss, had taken root inside Emily like a poisoned seed. Most of the time, she managed not to dwell on it. The cravings. The addiction. After each visit, she promised the next would be different. She promised she’d be tougher. Stronger. Sterner with herself. That she’d find the courage to say ‘no’ to Letitia.

Those promises were melting all around her.

At first, she’d fought tooth and nail to stop Letitia from force-feeding her the vitae. But the vampire, flush with fresh blood and unnatural strength, had always won, and so somehow, eventually, Emily had given up resisting. She’d just allowed it to happen. And then, before she’d realized what was happening, it had become too late.

“I…” Emily found herself saying. Her words came out wet and thick. She was salivating like a dog. 

“I suppose there is something else I want,” Letitia mused, as if she was oblivious to Emily’s plight. “Besides your spirit, I mean. Something very important.”

An offhand gesture sent a single, tiny droplet of Letitia’s blood spilling onto the ground. Emily watched it fall in slow motion, unable to stop it. As it splashed uselessly across the dirty floorboards, Emily let out a weak, keening cry. In moments it was gone, absorbed into the sawdust.

“I need your spirit,” Letitia told her, “and I need your love.”

That word caught Emily’s attention. She looked up at the vampire, dumbfounded.

“L… love?” she bleated.

“Do you know why dogs are so wonderfully obedient to their masters?” A touch of madness glinted in Letitia’s crimson eyes. “Because they love them.”

As hard as it was to feel anything but worship while she was in the throes of addiction, that comment made Emily indignant. “I’m not a goddamn dog.”

Letitia ignored her. “Do you know why dogs love their masters?” she asked. “Because they feed them. It’s that simple.”

Emily barked a laugh. Her head was swimming. Above her, Letitia shone like the moon. Every clear thought was a struggle.

“You’re crazy,” Emily spat.

“And you’re hungry,” Letitia replied.

Before Emily could form a retort, Letitia took a step towards and held her hand out towards the captive hunter. Instantly, Emily’s world shrank to a single point. The little back droplets welling up on the vampire’s finger were the only things that mattered. It was so close now, Emily could even smell it. The scent was more intoxicating than anything else; the iron, and the hint of something darker beneath. Emily was starting to drool down her chin.

“That’s better,” Letitia soothed. “Would you like a taste, my dear hunter?”

Without thinking, Emily nodded. She wasn’t even ashamed of herself for doing so. Raw hunger was the only thing left in her head.

“Then taste.” Letitia moved closer still, holding her hand down at the level of her hips. “Drink.”

Emily’s brow furrowed in confusion. Usually, when Letitia visited her, she poured her blood into a dish and offered it to Emily. Sometimes, she simply overpowered the hunter and forced her into another twisted kiss. This was new.

“H… how?” Emily asked, tongue wet. She already knew the answer.

“Drink,” Letitia repeated.

She didn’t explain. She didn’t need to. It only took a few more moments for Emily’s hunger to overpower her better judgment.

Emily stretched forward and wrapped her lips around Letitia’s bloody finger.

She suckled with the starving fervor of a newborn babe. It tasted every bit as good as she’d known it would. Just a few drops of the vampire’s blood were all it took to infuse Emily’s entire body with energy. She felt like she could run a marathon, or climb a sheer cliff face. She felt like she could fly.

She felt amazing.

Nothing could pierce that euphoria. Not shame, nor humiliation, nor the bitter sting of defeat. Emily was immune to those. She was on cloud nine. Emily kept licking and sucking, unwilling to let even the smallest droplet of Letitia’s ambrosia go to waste. She lavished the vampire’s skin with worshipful attention, kissing and licking every inch of her finger until it was clean. Letitia even helped, pumping her finger backward and forward, in and out of Emily’s mouth. Distantly, as if it was coming from far away, Emily heard the vampire’s laugh.

It didn’t matter. In that moment, all she could feel towards Letitia was an overbearing sense of gratitude.

Emily stopped once it became obvious that the small cut on Letitia’s finger had healed minutes ago. The hunter slumped backward and shivered rapturously as vitae coursed throughout her body. There was no feeling like this. No drug or high came even close.

“Well,” Letitia remarked mirthfully, “I don’t know about your spirit. But I see that your energy is certainly undiminished.”

Emily knew at once what she was referring to. As always, after a feeding, Emily was rock hard and tenting her pants. She couldn’t help it. Letitia’s blood left her infused with vigor - and besides, the vampire’s beauty seemed to grow after each meal. Emily felt like she could stare at Letitia forever, admiring her like a work of art. It was so strange, that such a dark creature would look so angelic.

“I’ll give you some more time to yourself,” Letitia announced, and spun to face the doorway. “To… contemplate your situation.”

Her sudden absence dimmed Emily’s blissful mood a little. It wasn’t long before the effects of the blood wore off, and Emily was left, once again, ashamed of her weakness and conscious of her own thirst. She knew the vitae was doing something to her. After each twisted feeding, she could feel something growing inside her. A kind of foreign influence, utterly alien to her true desires, but terrifyingly seductive and potent. It was nursing a kind of obsession for Letitia Clarendon; a violent one, perhaps, but still, a passionate one.

It was the kind of thing that might give birth to the very worst kind of love.

Emily had to stop. She knew she had to stop. Next time, she had to find a way to avoid drinking Letitia’s blood.

But somehow, as the minutes wore on, that thought slipped through her fingers, while the bittersweet memory of her captor’s face burned bright in her head, distracting her, luring her hand between her legs to deal with her sudden need.

It wasn’t long before she was counting down the time until Letitia might visit her again.

***

Emily didn’t look at the girl’s face. She refused to. She didn’t want to remember it. She didn’t want that face to haunt her, as others had. But, as ever, Letitia was kind. As she kept one hand clasped around the girl’s throat, she offered the other, dripping with vitae, toward Emily. As always, the former hunter was instantly transfixed by the mere sight of the substance. It helped her to block out everything else that was going on.

At least there was no whimpering or screaming. Mercifully, Letitia had somehow stunned her prey into submission. The poor, innocent thing remained calm, a vacant, dreamlike smile on her face, even as the vampire started tearing into her throat.

Emily flinched, but she still didn’t look. She kept her eyes on Letitia’s black-coated fingertips.

The first time Letitia had brought prey to Emily’s room, she’d been confused. When Letitia’s intentions had become clear, Emily had even managed to find some of her old fire, dampened though it was by weeks and weeks of starved apathy.

It had been useless, of course. Emily wasn’t chained up anymore - though she didn’t remember being freed, either - but Letitia had quickly taught her that resistance was meaningless.

And anyway, Emily couldn’t really bring herself to fight Letitia. Not anymore.

There was a splatter and a spurt, as Letitia’s fangs pierced the jugular. It churned Emily’s stomach, but she ignored it. She just sat waiting, peaceful and patient, exactly the way the vampire wanted.

Emily knew what was happening, of course. She was too smart not to, and besides, Letitia had made no real secret of her plans. It was simple exposure therapy. A way to desensitize her to the vampire’s true nature, and to progressively erode Emily’s convictions. After all, it was difficult to stand up against something when you’d been a silent, tacitly accepting bystander to it time and time again.

Emily knew what was happening. The problem was that she couldn’t seem to make herself care.

She’d long since given up on keeping track of how long she’d been held captive by Letitia - if ‘captive’ was even the right word anymore. She could leave whenever she wanted, but Letitia had made it clear that if she left, she’d never see or taste the vampire ever again. And for no more than that, Emily had stayed in that dark, squalid room, enduring countless hours of numbness and boredom that ground her down into a shadow of who she’d once been. All that was left were her feelings for Letitia.

She didn’t care about anything except Letitia anymore.

With a loud, wet smack, Letitia withdrew her fangs from the drained girl’s neck. A single, offhanded shove sent her sprawling to the ground, spent. Emily flinched - but she still didn’t look.

Letitia nodded approvingly at her stillness. “Good,” the vampire told her. “Very good.”

Pride, just as poisonous as any unholy blood, started to glow within Emily. She couldn’t help but be proud. Being praised by a creature like Letitia was a wonder. Her beauty was indescribable. She was more like a goddess than a mere mortal being like Emily.

“Drink up.” Letitia thrust her hand toward Emily. “You’ve earned it.”

Emily’s composure broke in an instant. Her meek stillness was gone, replaced by an unnatural voracity. Emily fed like an animal, lapping, licking, kissing, sucking - lavishing her new master’s skin with worshipful attention, and then, once all the vampire’s blood was gone, licking it clean of her own unworthy saliva.

She smiled. There it was again. Bliss.

Letitia took a moment to brush her fingertips affectionately across Emily’s cheek. It had become a little ritual of hers, after each feeding. A way to bond with her new pet.

“Yes, you’re coming along nicely,” Letitia mused. “Aren’t you?”

Emily blushed, flustered. Letitia was talking to her the way someone might a puppy, but Emily could feel nothing but warmth.

“Yes,” she muttered. “T-thank you.”

Letitia raised an eyebrow. She seemed pleased.

“And still… energetic, I see,” she remarked, eyes flicking downward.

Emily was hard. She always was, when Letitia graced her with her attention. Emily had given up on pleasuring herself - it didn’t seem to satisfy, without the vampire’s presence - but now that her belly was full of black blood, she was conscious of her own, desperate need.

“Do you remember,” Letitia asked her, “what I called you, the first night that we met?”

Emily nodded. Every detail of that encounter was burned into her brain. The memory was steadily supplanting all memories that had come before. It was the moment she’d begun.

“Yes,” Emily replied, voice stilted and meek. “A slut.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Before Emily could agree, Letitia stepped forward and, balancing on one leg for a moment, brought her other foot down to press against the stiff tent of Emily’s cock.

Emily gasped. She saw white. She looked up in awed confusion. The former hunter had never dared to dream that Letitia would touch like that.

“Wasn’t I?” Letitia repeated.

“Y-yes!” Emily gasped urgently. Letitia was barely touching her, but the pleasure was unbelievable. The sole of her foot felt better than any other girl ever had.

“Good girl.”

Letitia nodded in a way that Emily somehow knew meant permission, and without hesitation, Emily started to buck her hips and hump Letitia’s foot.

“Oh my god…” Emily panted. She was practically weeping with joy. Touching Letitia like that was transcendent. “O-oh my god.”

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for her to reach her peak. Emily had once been a lot of things - a hunter, a stud, a top - but now all that was gone, and all that mattered was Letitia was rewarding her with this. The symbolism was more important than the sensation. A being as great and as beautiful as Letitia Clarendon had decided Emily deserved to feel something good. Even the condescending sneer on the vampire’s face was perfect. It helped to remind Emily of what she was.

A pet. A dog. A thrall.

And if she was that, nothing else she did really mattered.

Entranced by the thought, Emily kept rutting and humping, her moans and grunts becoming ever more desperate and animalistic. She was trapped; she was too desperate to stop, but she couldn’t continue for much longer, but she couldn’t even conceive of finishing without Letitia’s permission.

Eventually, Letitia set her free. “You may,” she pronounced, with a slight nod of her head.

With a ragged moan, Emily came. Letitia took her foot away at the last moment, and so the former hunter only succeeded in making a mess of her own, filthy clothing. Emily expected shame to follow on the heels of her orgasm, but no. Letitia’s presence kept that at bay as well, and as Emily basked in the afterglow of her reward, the vampire bent down to stare intently into her soul.

“Yes,” Letitia mused, a smile on her face. “I think you’re almost ready. There it is. Coming along nicely.”

Emily knew instinctively what she was referring to. She could feel it growing within herself, black and sickly, and all for her new master.

Love.

***

Instinctively, Emily squeezed the stake in her hand. It felt good. Comforting. Familiar. Even after all that had transpired, a few things still hadn’t changed.

That was a nice lie she could tell herself.

In any case, many more things had. Emily wasn’t stuck in that room anymore. She wasn’t wearing her old, now-filthy clothes either. She’d replaced her old look with one that was new and slick: a black suit, nicely tailored, cut slightly feminine, complete with tie and perfect white shirt.

It was exactly the way Lady Letitia liked her.

“Come on,” Emily called, raising her voice so it could be heard over the club music. “This way.”

“Right,” the other hunter nodded, following closely behind. “Are you sure she’ll be there?”

“Yes,” Emily replied. “At this time of night, the bloodsucker’s always in her lair.”

Emily twitched and scratched a phantom itch at her neck.

“Got it,” the other hunter replied. The girl was painfully young, and too trusting. “If you know where she sleeps, I’m surprised you need me. I’d always heard you worked alone.”

“She’s strong,” Emily replied simply. “I wanted backup.”

“Right.” Emily glanced over her shoulder, and saw a faint, bashful smile appear on the other hunter’s face. “I’m flattered you picked a newbie like me.”

That tugged at Emily’s heartstrings for a moment, before she shoved the guilt way down. Beneath the hunger.

“Focus,” Emily warned, as she led the other girl through the crush of dancing bodies, toward a dark doorway at the back of the club. “It’s dangerous here.”

The other girl nodded. Both of them clutched at their stakes. Emily’s heart was pounding, but not from danger. Not from guilt, either.

From anticipation.

The two of them entered the doorway and proceeded down a dimly lit corridor, the sounds of the club steadily dying away. Then Emily came to a halt and indicated a door.

“She’s in here,” Emily hissed. “You first. I’ll watch your back.”

The other girl nodded. After a moment of hesitation, of gathering up her courage, she opened the door and walked inside. Emily followed her a few paces behind and slipped her stake back into the inside pocket of her jacket.

And nodded to Lady Letitia, lurking in the shadows.

In an instant, the vampire was on top of the blindsided hunter. The poor girl barely had time to scream before Lady Letitia’s fangs pierced her throat and sucked dry her veins. After a few seconds of useless spasming, the stake rolled out of her open hand and clattered to the ground. The girl’s pale, dry, cold body followed soon after.

Emily only twitched a little. She could even look at their faces now.

But she didn’t need to. Not for more than a moment, anyway. Soon, Lady Letitia turned to Emily and smiled, blood still dripping from her fanged maw. Emily didn’t care about that, though. She just cared that her master was smiling.

“Well done,” Lady Letitia told her, “my hunter.”

Yes, Emily was still a hunter. She even hunted vampires, sometimes - Lady Letitia had rivals, after all - but mortals had become her usual prey. She helped to drive them into Lady Letitia’s cruel embrace, keeping the area free of genuine vampire hunters in the process.

Still a hunter - by some measures, anyway. But more than anything, Emily was simply a thrall.

“My lady.”

In a single, smooth motion, long-practiced, Emily dropped to one knee and bowed her head before her master. It was only right to lower herself before a being as beautiful and superior as Lady Letitia. Emily served her in all things. It was the only thing that gave her life a sense of purpose. The only thing that delivered her, even temporarily, from the gnawing numbness that had consumed everything else about Emily.

And there was the hunger, of course. Only Lady Letitia could sate that. But Emily no longer received the gift of her unholy blood every night, or after every service. Lady Letitia had trained her well. The vampire’s approval was all the reward Emily needed.

Like a dog with Pavlov’s bell.

"Thank you,” Lady Letitia said softly, “for my meal. You’ve proven yourself to be every bit the servant I hoped you’d be.”

“Thank you,” Emily whispered. The force of her master’s praise was enough to make her weep. She had to keep her face turned down, or else Lady Letitia’s beauty would overwhelm her. “Thank you, my lady.”

With her head bowed, she could see the body of the other hunter, lying just a short distance away. More and more, its presence started to eat at Emily. It stirred memories of another life. A life in which she’d protected people from vampires, instead of luring them into the predator’s lair. Emily could remember a former version of herself, one who would have been outraged and disgusted at what the fallen hunter had become.

Did that mean something? Wasn’t all of this terribly, terribly wrong?

Emily felt herself starting to panic. Her breaths came up short, and her pulse quickened as she fought with herself to fill her lungs with air. What was she doing? Why was she doing any of this? The doubts were suddenly swimming around her, eating at her, but within, something dark and wet and equally vicious was fighting back. The corruption nested in Emily’s bosom, the part of her that longed for Letitia, refused to let her go. Those two conflicting forces made a battleground of her soul, all but paralyzing her with sudden indecision.

Her hand trembled. Her stake was right there. Within reach. Couldn’t she just-

A familiar touch to Emily’s cheek stirred her from those unwelcome thoughts. In her usual, ritual way, Lady Letitia stroked her thrall’s face and guided her eyes upward, until Emily was staring into the vampire’s impossibly beautiful visage. Her fangs, her tongue, her eyes - Emily was captivated by all of it.

A single moment of being caressed by the vampiric master she now adored was all it took to remind the fallen hunter: she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Everything else was simply a delusion Lady Letitia had been kind enough to free Emily from.

The vampire’s touch left her hard, too. It always did. Emily had always been weak to beautiful women, and her thralldom had given the lesbian a singular, erotic fixation on her master. Lady Letitia noticed immediately and licked her lips pointedly, spreading blood across her face.

“Rise,” she bade, “and come with me. I require your service in other ways.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Emily rose to her feet and, misgivings forgotten, stepped over the other hunter’s limp body as she followed her master to her coffin chamber.