I add, “Neli, if you are no longer satisfied with our arrangement, I could offer to release your soul from its tether and send you on your way.”
Neli narrows her green eyes. “Of all the vampires my parents had to donate me to, they chose the only one incapable of evolving.”
“Do not be so damned dramatic, woman. We both know I was the only dark-prince game in town. I killed all of my rivals in my country.” Good times.
“Maybe so, but I’ve come across quite a few vampires while you were snoozing, and trust me, you’re an unchanged relic compared to them. I mean, you’d hardly even know they were hundreds of years old. They embrace change, and you’ve always resisted it. Even before you took your lengthy siesta, you were like an unmovable rock—always blabbing about the good old days and tradition and beheadings. You don’t know how to grow as a person, and that, my friend, is a problem.”
“Or, perhaps, it makes me a fine wine—better with age.” Has she not seen how handsome I look with my long black mane and pale skin? It is very elegant. Then there are my eyes with their silver flecks, like a moonless night twinkling with stars. Finally, there is my physique. A Roman statue but without the baby-sized pecker. I am all man, all stallion. And all vampire!
“Boz, you’re not listen—”
“Cease your complaining, Cornelia.” I flick my wrist. “You have enjoyed centuries of life thanks to me. And might I remind you that when it comes to masters, you could have done worse. I never beat you, did I? I never made you wash my genitals or shave my scrotum during the hot summer months. I never forced you to lie with me when I felt the need to blow off a little steam.” I am a gentleman, and a gentleman never forces a woman to his bed. Besides, I never felt an attraction for Cornelia.
“Thank God for small favors,” she mutters under her breath.
“I heard that.”
“Sorry, Boz. Not that you’re unappealing or don’t deserve to have a tender touch when it comes to manscaping your undercarriage. And yes, we all know there’s a reason your looks are legendary—people once sang campfire songs about your ass in those leather pants—but frankly, I’m attracted to men who don’t force me to lure young women to their deaths and then make me hide the bodies.” She crinkles her pert nose.
She should be honored to do my evil bidding. It is all part of the fun. “I did not see you complaining when my protection afforded you your pick of cocks in the village.” Neli had quite the sexual appetite. She slept with at least three different men over two hundred years—very provocative for a woman in the 1400s. Yet, did I call her a whore? No. I did not. Not until she started flaunting her toes all over the goddamned place.
“Has it ever occurred to you that men like sleeping with me because”—she holds up a finger—“they’re men, and men are horny. And B”—she holds up a second finger—“I’m hot. But that’s not the point of this conversation. I have more than served my time, Boz. I saved your castle, I built a small empire, and I kept you safe. For five centuries! Not including all the years before you pissed off that witch.”
“So?” This is Neli’s job. Do you see me seeking a pat on the back for culling the weak from the human population? No. I serve. I kill. I move on.
I kick off my cloth trousers and slide on my leather ones. The leather is easier to clean after I hunt. And they emphasize my manly endowment. This is something that never goes out of style with women. You’re welcome, ladies.
“So,” she says, “I want more freedom. I want to be treated like an equal partner.”
I stare at her oval face and then explode with laughter. “Very amusing.”
“But, Boz—”
“But nothing!” I bark, my patience snapping like a twig. “I am your master. I will always be your master. And you will obey me, or I will find another—”
“Person who’s the key to accessing all your money? Will you find another business-savvy human who puts up with your bullcrap too? How about a manager for your award-winning winery that pulls in millions of dollars each year?”
“What is a dollar?”
She rolls her eyes. “Help me, Jesus.”
“You keep him out of this!” I look over my shoulder and then the other. She knows I fear anything that rises from the dead. Besides other vampires. It is very unnatural. Why does she think vampires fear the cross? We do not wish to summon him.
“Sorry.” She holds up her hands in the surrender position. “All I’m saying is that if you want to appear as a normal man in this day and age, then you have to treat women as equals, starting with me. Otherwise”—she shrugs—“I’m afraid Stella won’t be the last woman to run out of here, hating you with a fiery passion for your rude, antiquated, caveman-like ways.”