Years after her parents' death, Evangeline Parker thought she was finally beginning to put her life back together. When a handsome stranger attempts to pick her up at the bar, she thought she had chased him away for good. Instead he waited to take her from her apartment that night and introduced her into a life of slavery. When she meets the unholiest of unholies, she discovers that she is more than she appears. Will Evangeline discover the strength to end a war, or will she perish and let the world be run by an even darker evil?
If you liked the origonal version of this story, I suggest you read this one; it's way better and more detailed!!!!!
Chapter 1 - Kidnapped
I was at the bar. It was a small place, with many round tables, and booths, but no dance floor. The floors were made of polished wood so worn down from people walking across its surface that the sheen was gone. The booths and stools were upholstered with red plastic-like fabric that was old and torn in places. The wood tables were covered with clear glass to protect the surfaces from being damaged from condensation that dripped off the glasses.
A juke box sat in the far corner, away from the door. No songs were being played, not this late at night. There were few patrons inside, most of them too drunk to see strait let alone be able to drive themselves home to continue on with their miserable lives.
I was alone as usual, drinking my sorrows away. My twenty-second birthday was two days ago, but did anybody notice? Of course they didn't. I didn't even exist. It was okay, that was the way I liked it. I liked to not be noticed, I liked to be invisible. I liked to blend in the background. That way nobody would bother me.
After my parents died in a car accident six years ago, I snapped. Stupid drunk driver deserved what I did to him. I hope he was rotting in hell. It was the most that lowlife could be warranted, even that was a privilege. Of course I would probably see him there in a few years anyway. I couldn't wait, I would kill him again.
I would have seen him sooner right after I killed him, but just my luck I didn't take enough pills. The cops got to me just in time and brought me to the hospital where they pumped my stomach and shoved coal down my throat so my body wouldn't absorb the taint. The court decided that I was insane. Insanity caused by grief. I didn't even need a good lawyer for that one, apparently it was obvious.
I never got into any trouble before that. I was a straight A student, never even snuck out of the house. According to my lawyer, who was pretty much useless, the judge let me off easy because I had already been traumatized by my parent's death.
They ended up sending me to an asylum until I was twenty- one. It wasn't too bad a place – if you were too crazy to know better. It had the usual padded walls, barred windows, and of course a few orderlies who got a little too touchy-feely with the younger female residents.
Knowing my past, most didn't dare touch me. They were afraid that I would snap again and beat them to death with my own fists. The more pathetic ones sedated me so I was too weak to fight back. Eventually the sedatives quit working and I ended up cracking an orderly's skull on the cement floor. That stopped the rest of them for so much as looking in my direction.
The doctors enhanced my room to include a padded floor. It wasn't for my safety, because I never smashed myself against anything. It was for the safety of the staff. They didn't believe me when I told them what really happened, but that orderly no longer worked in the facility once he was cleared to come back. They sent him away to contaminate another place.
Three days after my twenty-first birthday, I was a free woman. The therapy at the asylum helped with my psychotic attitude. Or so they thought. My attitude was obviously the effect of beating somebody to death and had nothing to do with the trauma I had endured while actually in the facility. At least that's what I wanted them to think.
It wasn't my fault Michael, the man - no, the thing that killed my parents, was weak and couldn't fight a sixteen year old armed with nothing but an aluminum baseball bat. He should have been able to rip that thing out of my hands and protect himself. He was probably too doped up to realize what had happened until his skull was split open and his brains were spread on the floor.
But even after all the therapy, my depression still lingered. Beating him to death really didn't make me feel better. I still missed my parents. I still loathed my existence. I wanted to forget about everything and try to build a new life. That's what my parents would have wanted.
"Need a refill, Evie," Henry the bartender interrupted my thoughts.
He was a short man, beefy, and near bald. With dull brown eyes, that said 'I may be old, but I can still kick your ass.' He owned the bar that he tended in this small town. He was actually a really friendly guy when you got to know him. I was a patron here every night for the last six months.
"No, just give me another beer" I answered half heartedly.
"Want to talk about it," he asked setting the drink down.
"No" I said bluntly.
"You know, Evie, you shouldn't bottle it up, it's not healthy."
"Neither is consuming alcohol every day," I snapped. I knew he meant well, but I was sick of the prying, If I wanted to tell you my life's story, then I would tell you. If not, then leave me the hell alone about it.
"Touché, Evie, you win this one," Henry laughed and went to help somebody else, leaving me to loathe my existence in peace.
Not even a second after he turned away, I felt a tap on my shoulder. My long raven colored hair flipped around as I turned my head to fix my ice blue eyes on a man who looked not much older than I.
He had long dark hair, and dark brown eyes. They were almost black. I could see his muscles through his shirt. His height towered over me even though I sat on a tall bar stool. Despite his deathly pale skin, he was actually very good looking.
"Hey there hot stuff," He said. His voice was deep and smooth. The sound of it sent chills down my spine, the good ones.
"'Hot stuff', are you kidding? That's all you could come up with? Even 'I lost my number can I have yours' would have been better than 'hey hot stuff,'" I ranted.
How dumb could this guy get? I suppose his looks made up for his lack of brains. Chugging the rest of my drink, I hopped off the bar stool and headed out of the building, leaving the man alone and stunned.
"It was nice to meet you," he called after me. He must have been desperate.
I just flipped him off, not turning back. Luckily I only lived a few blocks away, so my trek through the empty dirty streets was short. When I got home, I was so exhausted that I went straight to bed, although it was only one in the morning. It was plenty early for me, but late for a normal person on a weekday, hence why the bar was near empty.
I was in a deep sleep when I felt soft lips caressing my neck. It was the institution all over again. The intruder's kisses were soft at first, but as his hands roamed my petite body, they became rougher. I could feel his lust growing between his legs, his hardness poked into my thigh.
Playing along, I reached into the cubby hole on my head board, slowly, so he didn't notice, and unsheathed the hunting knife that once belonged to my father. Before he could react, I was holding the knife to his throat. I couldn't see the man in the dark, but judging by his weight, he wasn't a scrawny pipsqueak.
"I highly suggest you get off of me," I said deadly, pressing the knife firmly against his flesh.
"If I don't," he mocked.
I could tell by his voice that it was the man from the bar. This guy was desperate. "Then I'll slit your throat," I pressed the knife harder. He didn't even flinch as the sharp blade cut his skin. As my eyes got used to the darkness, I could tell that I had left a mark.
"Fine," he said flipping us over so I was on top.
"What the fuck do you want," I hissed, trying to make my voice as calm and deadly as possible, but inside I was screaming frantically. This guy was a complete weirdo.
"I thought you would have guessed," He purred thrusting his hips into me.
"How did you get in," I changed the subject to get his mind off the task he wanted to complete. I had a deadbolt on the door, so it was impossible to break in that way. I also lived on the second floor so it was a little hard to go through a window.
"I have my ways," He pulled me down towards him. I resisted, pushing the knife deeper into his wound, making blood splatter all over me. He still didn't flinch.
I looked at him wide eyed, "What are you," my voice unwillingly shook.
"Do you really want to know?"
I pondered this for a second. There was no way he was human. I had cut him deep, and he didn't so much as bat an eye. Even the most practiced people couldn't do that, "I don't know," I replied hesitantly.
"I think I'll show you anyway," He grabbed my wrists.
Before I could react, I had dropped the knife and he was on top of me. It all happened so fast, that before I knew it, I was falling into the darkness that was behind my eye lids.
When I woke up, I couldn't see a thing. I even rubbed my eyes to make sure they were open. Did I go blind? To keep myself from panicking, I felt around my surroundings. I realized I was in a bed. Why would I be in a bed? What did this man do to me? I looked under the covers to see if I was still clothed. Duh, I couldn't see. I felt my body, to find that I was still wearing my pajamas. At least he hadn't violated me yet. Then again, he could have had the decency to put my clothes back on.
Preoccupied with my clothes, I felt movement beside me. I couldn't keep from panicking and bolted out of the bed. Just my luck, I tripped over the blankets and fell on the floor. As I was recovering from my clumsiness, the thing in the bed moved again and a candle lit up. How was that possible? Maybe it was a clapper.
Wait, you can't clap-light a candle, and I didn't hear any clapping.
The room was moderate sized. With a cherry-wood framed canopy bed. It had crimson sheets, and bedspread. The walls were crème colored, and black lace curtains covered the windows. The floor was hard wood with an antique white colored throw. The furniture was the same type wood as the bed, complete with a night stand, armoire, and vanity.
I was still frantically trying to untangle my legs from the blankets when someone's feet came into view. I looked up to see my assailant, surprise, surprise.
"I'm glad to see you awake, Evie," He purred. His voice was sexier than I remembered.
"How do you know my name," I asked.
"I'm psychic," he answered. I gave him a speculative look. "Okay, I heard the bartender call you Evie."
"What the hell do you want?"
"I already told you."
"So instead of raping me on the spot, you kidnap me to rape me later?" It made no sense to me.
"I thought I would keep you for a while," he smiled showing beautiful strait white teeth.
I finally got my legs untangled, and started to run. Before I could even get up, he grabbed me and lifted me off the floor, setting me on my feet in front of him. I tried to punch him, but he was too fast for me. He caught my arm and twisted it. I screamed in pain as I felt the muscles in my wrist and elbow twist.
"Are you going to cooperate," he said roughly.
"Are you going to let me go," I snapped at him. Was he really that dumb? Then again his pick up line was horrid.
"No," he said bluntly.
"Why not," I demanded.
"You are my slave," he stated.
"Last time I checked, slavery was abolished. Don't you remember the civil war?"
"Very well, my younger brother died when the fighting came to our plantation."
Um what??? This guy was delirious. Maybe he should have been in the asylum instead of me. "Aren't you a little young to have a younger brother die in the civil war?"
"How old do you think I am?"
"Twenty-five to thirty, duh," I said like a bottle headed blonde.
"Try one-hundred and seventy-four." Yeah, this guy was nuts.
"You mean you were born in eighteen thirty-six?" I was so smart.
"Precisely," he smiled his beautiful grin.
I just looked at him like he lost his mind. In fact, I think he did lose his mid, or maybe I was the crazy one. No, I was not the one who thought I was one-hundred and sixty eight. I burst out laughing. This guy was a lunatic.
"Are you going to let go of my arm yet," I asked after my laughter ceased.
"Are you going to cooperate?"
"Depends on what you want me to do." So I would humor him.
"I want you to obey me."
Okay he just pissed me off. "I will never obey you," I struggled. He twisted my arm further. I screamed in pain and let my legs give out, dropping to the floor. He let me go as I fell, and pushed me onto my back.
"What are you doing," I gasped as the pain still echoed up my arm.
"Showing you what I am, and what I can do," He started kissing my neck.
I struggled, but he only held me down. I couldn't move under his abnormal strength, but I still kept struggling. His grip only tightened to better control my movement. I could feel his tongue exploring my creamy skin. Eugh, that was so gross. I shuddered and thrashed my head at him.
"Stop moving," he growled. His voice was no longer smooth and sexy, but gruff and foreboding. If I wasn't scared before, I definitely was now. I stopped fighting out of shock. "That's more like it" his voice was back to normal.
He returned to kissing my neck. I could feel his teeth scraping my sensitive flesh. What I felt next was excruciating. Pain shot from where his mouth was stationed on my neck. I felt blood trickling out of my wound as he was sucking on it. My scream was stuck in my throat from the amount of pain. I tried to struggle, but as my body was getting weaker, I could only wrap my arms around him and pathetically claw at his back. Soon enough, I passed out.
I woke up back in the bed with somebody's arms wrapped around me. I could feel his body against mine. I knew it was a "he" because his body was very masculine and muscular. Also, I could smell his cologne. Why did he have to be so, well, manly?
Wait I didn't even know his name. I tried to move, but my muscles were too weak. Pain shot through my neck as I lifted my head. I tried to scoot away from him, but he only pulled me closer. I struggled more, but he squeezed me tighter making it hard for me to breathe.
"I can't breathe," I gasped.
"Then stop moving and go back to sleep," he hissed.
"How can I sleep with you next to me?"
"Why not," He purred in my ear and squeezed my right breast. I knew he was only doing it to make me on edge, but it worked.
"First of all, I don't even know your name, or you, and you flipping kidnapped me! Why the hell would I want to lie next to you like you were my lover," my voice rose louder with each word. I removed his hand but he grabbed my wrist and rolled me over onto my back and spread himself on top of me, pinning my hands above my head.
"My name is Lucian, you will get to know me, and you were asking for it."
"How the hell-"
He put his hand over my mouth and rolled off of me. "Now go to sleep, Evie."
"Sleep," It was a demand.
He pulled me closer. His warm skin felt good against my cold exterior. It seemed like he had me hypnotized, stupid abnormally sexy bastard. I wished I was actually willing. Then maybe I would have enjoyed all of this for once in my life.