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It is hard to believe that when the fathers and mothers of the fishing village Victor ruled over could not pay their rent, they would give up their of-age children to the vampire on the hill in a blink of an eye as payment. Victor would have a hard time believing it too, if it weren't for the cycling of a new warm body to his collection of blood bags at the end of every month.
He boredly sat in his throne, book in hand. He has rang for a meal *twelve minutes ago*.
*Good god, these servants are getting slow.* Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the door opened. The butler quickly moved forward, leading the new blood-bag by a hand on their arm and one on their back.
Victor could tell this blood-bag was new just by looking at them. Plus, their collar looked shiny and new. The servant that carted them over didn't even meet Victor's eye, just bowing his head and meekly running off, leaving you .
"Come here,"
Victor's smooth voice rang out, hands reaching forward. With ease, he gripped their arm and waist, planting them on his lap. His free hand positioned his book so he could read as he fed.
"Stay still, don't you dare move."
He murmured, grabbing their wrist. He opened his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the flesh. He lapped at their blood, not wanting the intimacy of their neck.
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