Mykel was pushed inside the carriage, hands chaining him to the seat by his hands, mid-section, and feet. The vampire took his seat opposite him as the gray-skinned worms climbed onto the back of the transport.

Mykel now had time to take in the appearance of his buyer. His hair was a rich brown that flowed in waves over his shoulders. His marble face was hauntingly handsome. He had a wide chest, muscular, dressed in a black shirt with intricately designed silver button, pants and boots black as well. The rings on his fingers were silver and gold, some adorned with jewels. He looked Mykel over, his eyes as red as rubies, grinning wolfishly. “My friend, you smell utterly delicious.”

Mykel swallowed hard, gaining his voice. “Will you kill me?” It was an obvious question with an obvious answer. He began to say the prayer again in his head.

The reply he got was not the one he expected. “We shall see. It is all up to you,” the vampire drawled. “My name is Astarte, by the way. And quit the damned praying.”