Thrall (A Vampire Romance) by Abigail Graham Page A

were by it was like she forgot about it and looked right through me.
    After he walked straight through the casino floor, Vincent stepped outside to turn and greet the valet attendant with hollow cordiality. The way the lights from the other side of the glass played on his skin made him almost look alive when he smiled at her.
    When she ran back up with his keys he grinned at her and brushed her hand with his in taking them.
    “Aren’t you a little peach,” he said to her, “Maybe I’ll dance at your wedding.”
    A stab of cold dread shook through me as he walked over to his car, parked first by the doors. It cost a fortune and I hated it. All white, of course. I had to get my own door and drop into the passenger’s seat and press my legs shut and try not to hug myself as he backed out, whipped the car around and took off at obscene speed through the garage, then down the ramp. As he pulled onto the Strip he cut off a pickup truck full of college boys in their popped collars, and the driver flipped him off. With the windows down I could hear their jeers.
    “If I weren’t on an agenda tonight, I’d make them eat their own tongues. The shadow has passed over those.”
    “Yes, Master.”
    I stare at the road. The veil parts and he let me remember the drive with Andi, the awe I felt at all the lights and motion. Now it just makes me sick.
    Sick and hungry. It just takes a glimpse and I could feel the man on the streetcorner. The thing in my belly felt him too, but he was gone too fast for it to whisper its obscenities in my ear, and for that I was thankful. I didn’t look at anybody else as he drove the length of the Strip until it was just Las Vegas Boulevard in the urban sprawl space between Strip and Downtown, the casinos on Freemont Street looming in the distance, growing closer.
    I knew the route. I knew the hotel when we pulled in.
    We stayed here.
    This was our hotel.
    He looked over at me.
    “Surprise.”
    I didn’t say anything. Better not to. Instead I stood up and rushed to open his door, keeping my eyes on the ground. He gave the key to the valet and walked into the casino.
    It all came back to me when I saw the lobby, the attendant at the desk. He turned and walked through the casino floor. It was the same as before, the world parted around him and I scurried to stay in his wake. I was as invisible as he was visible, drawn along behind him. When he stepped up to the elevator he presented his invitation to the man standing beside it, who took it and examined it through tiny spectacles.
    “My lord. You are expected.”
    He nodded and stepped into the elevator. An attendant inside turned a key and the doors closed, and the ascent began.
    Vincent turned to me.
    “You’re curious. Very well. We are attending a gathering under the rules of our Covenant. The details are not relevant to you, but this is a formal meeting and certain protocols are observed. Do what I say when I say or you will be terribly chastised. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Master.”
    “Very good.”
    The elevator stopped. The doors opened. Vincent stepped out and I was careful to remain two steps behind, eyes downcast.
    This penthouse was five times bigger than his. The elevator opened onto a kind of raised loft, connected to the expansive floor below by a grand staircase. For all the fear of burning in sunlight, these things like their windows. Everywhere was glass, even the ceiling, and the windows were open in many places. Hot desert breeze wafted through the air conditioned air in a display of excess and vanity.
    People mingled below us on the main floor. People and things.
    Vincent jogged lightly down the steps. At the bottom he met a woman in a black evening gown at least fifty years out of style. Her hair was jet black but otherwise she was like him. Hard and waxy at the same time, a fake person, a corpse that got up and walked around with hollow rusty eyes. I saw her and knew I looked the same and it made me sick inside. I wanted