Blood and Bondage Read Online Free Page B

herself onto the mattress in a heap. She sobbed
into her trembling hands. Blood-streaked tears streamed down her cheeks and
stained her red satin gown. All alone in a strange town, she felt lost. The
only people she trusted were Andreas and his father, Aristotle, one of whom was
likely on an airplane halfway across the globe. She had to tell them that a
madman had somehow gained access to her room. But first, she needed to stop and
think. Who could be responsible for such masochistic cruelty? And why?
    Anaïs only knew one man sick enough to mutilate
and torture a female with such callous precision. It was the same man who’d stalked
her on and off for more than a century. Did he have the audacity to follow her
across the
Atlantic
? She sure as hell wouldn’t
put it past him. The psycho had done everything from sending her bouquets of
dead, wilted flowers to decapitating a kitten and leaving its severed head on her
front porch. But generally, he left a calling card, some way of letting her
know that he was close. Anaïs stood up and searched the bed. Then, she snatched
the photograph hidden between the sheets, and turned it over to find a messy,
handwritten inscription on the back.
    Having fun in
New York City
, I see.
    Behave or there’s more where this came from.  
     
    P.G.
     
     
    Over the years, Pierre Gaucher had proven to be
quite the cunning adversary. He’d begun to court her at the end of the
nineteenth century, during
France
’s
Belle Époque, a time of great peace and prosperity in her homeland. The
economic success that had resulted from the invention of steam-powered ships
and railways caused a social and cultural explosion, especially in the
forward-thinking capital of
Paris
.
The arts once again flourished, which had turned out to be the perfect moment for
a classically-trained ballerina like Anaïs to jump back into the limelight.
    Taking advantage of her talent and skill as a
dancer, Anaïs soon became one of the principal courtesans at Moulin Rouge, a
well-known cabaret in the
Parisian district of Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy. Each evening at sundown, she’d
pretty herself up, walk out onto the stage in costume, and put on an elaborate
circus-like extravaganza for the crowd. Her most famous role had been that of
Cleopatra in the Bal de Quat’zarts, a number in which she was surrounded by a
harem of young, naked women. At the time, it had incited quite the scandal, and Anaïs had relished every minute of it .
    Pierre
lived in a lavish mansion on the
outskirts of
Paris
.
Bred from old European stock, he was fabulously wealthy and arrogant as the
devil himself. Like most men of royal lineage, his title had afforded him both
the means and opportunity to do anything he damn well pleased. Soon after their
courtship commenced, Anaïs became aware of each and
every one of her lover’s vices. He gambled like crazy, drank more than his
share of alcohol, and dabbled in opium and other hallucinogenic drugs. He was a
self-professed wild child. In fact,
Pierre
reminded her quite a bit of her younger self.
    In need of company after living alone for nearly
two centuries, Anaïs chose to disregard the seedier side of
Pierre
. Evil was inherent in him, obvious by
his dark, obsidian eyes and the wicked grin he’d sport as he watched Anaïs feed
off helpless human inhabitants. He was a voyeur and loved it when she’d pick up
handsome men, get them off, and then drain them dry. It seemed to thrill him. Before
long, he’d duped her into turning him into a vampire with some sob story about
the two of them living happily ever after.
    Big mistake!
    Other than her father, Anaïs had never met a
more conniving bastard in her life. Realizing her error in judgment, the two of
them had parted ways a short time after the conversion. Ever since, she’d done
her best to steer clear of
Pierre
.
The way Anaïs saw it, she had two choices. She could either end his life or
avoid him entirely, and quite frankly,
Pierre
wasn’t