Relinquishing control of her body to the Vampire Lord should be harder than signing a few pieces of paper, but it's not. Within seconds, her life no longer belongs to herself.
She thinks there should be more fanfare to it, but nothing happens. He takes the papers from her lap and slides them into a folder.
The car keeps going forward to an unknown location and she's still sitting awkwardly beside the man who now owns her entire body.
To his credit, he doesn't try to take advantage of her, keeping a respectable distance between them and letting her panic about how the rest of her life is going to play out without pushing her to start treating him like anything has changed.
He offers her a glass of orange juice from the mini fridge hidden between the seats and if she wasn't feeling like someone has pulled a rug from right beneath her feet, she would have found this immeasurably cool.
The orange juice is unfairly delicious and very cool. She finishes it without thinking and blushes when she notices his eyes on her.
"Would you like some more?" he offers generously.
"No, thank you," she says not because it's true but because it feels like the right thing to say. "What- what's going to happen now?" she can't help but ask, afraid and curious all at once.
He turns to her and his eyes flash a brilliant red for a second, the color of the blood in her veins. "Well, we're going to get you started on the chemical treatment so that you can behave the way we want you to," he says.
"Who're 'we'?" she asks, knowing full well he doesn't need to answer her. It would be a waste of his time to answer any of her questions at all. After all, she understands full well that none of this matters at all. She is his now. Entirely.
"My men," he says. "And Ethan and his pack."
Pack? A pack implies werewolves. But why would he want to share her-
Her breath hitches and her eyes widen. "Did you know that there is a 50% chance of a human being born between a Werewolf and a human couple?"
He intends to turn her into a breeder.
"Nothing so crude, love," he says, expression softening and she realizes she's said the last part out loud. "I take good care of what's mine. You're going to be absolutely fine. Trust me."
Trusting him was what had gotten her in this position in the first place. She should never have taken his money. She doesn't move when he reaches forward and brushes a tear that's escaped down her cheek with his finger.
"It's alright, my love. Everything's going to be alright," he tries to reassure her, his voice dropping into a deep cadence that vibrates through her bones and makes her wants to melt against the leather seats. He does lift the box out of the way at this point and moves close towards her.
She's breathing too hard to be upset about it, gasping inhales that doesn't seem to be getting enough oxygen into her lungs.
"It's alright. Come on. Come here," he coaxes, pulling her up and into his lap.
"It's not- It's-" she stutters. It's the opposite of alright. It annoys her how easily he is able to lift her up and carry her over the seat into his lap and how well they fit together, how easily it is for him to fit her face against the nape of his neck and how soothing his palm is on her back.
"Breathe, my love. That's it. That's a good girl," he says. "We'll be good for you, love. You don't have to worry about anything anymore." He keeps calling her 'love' and she hates how much she revels in it. It feels like it has been a long time since anyone has told her they loved her. She knows that's not what he means, but he sounds sincere enough that she can convince her mind he means it.
She thinks it's unfair how good he smells. Vampires shouldn't smell like lavender and peaches. She inhales greedily, hands clutching the front of his shirt as he cradles her to his chest. A logical part of her brain tells her that her behavior right now is completely out of the norm and something is wrong. Another part of her just wants to melt into his lap and let him hold her until all her worries disappear.
She should be angrier, more afraid. The emotions doesn't come. She doesn't know what's wrong but she knows something's not right.
The orange juice, she thinks quietly. The change in her body is already starting and she doesn't even know it yet. He probably put something in the juice. That would explain why he's not so eager to taste her blood right now. All those chemicals going through her veins will probably make her less delicious.
She wonders how long that'll last.
"Feeling better, love?" he asks, soft and sweet. It's disturbing. This is the same man she had seen on papers being labelled as immensely powerful and dangerous, that everyone is advised to treat like royalty. She has seen him out in the streets, flanked by bodyguard on all sides, crowds parting for him like the red sea. He is a man whose presence commands attention and respect and he's... he's patting her like she's a scared pet cat he's picked off the streets.
The line of thought makes her feel cold all over but she manages to not start panicking again. She nods against his neck and tries to focus on how good he smells and not think beyond that because it's too complicated.
"That's good. Everything's going to be alright, my love. It might be a little harder for the beginning. The transition is always a little difficult. Ethan needs to make sure that you're perfect for him first, but I'm sure you can manage, darling. You're going to be perfect. I can tell."
"How-" she sniffles. "How is he going to check?" she wants to know.
"Well, he's going to make sure you can take his fist before he knots you."