Chapter 2

HIS WORDS STILL RANG in my ears. From now on, your heart, and every inch of you, belongs to me, and only me. I stood dumbfounded, unsure what he meant and why he would say such a thing. Mother had warned me that if a master wanted you, he would simply take you to the bed the night he bought you and tell you he would kill you if you cried. After a few years, I figured that’s what happened between my mother and father.

I tried to lower my gaze, but his deft fingers returned my head to his view.

“I do not want you to look away from me, understand?” He said with anger dripping from his voice.

I nodded, and then he sighed.

“Ada, you and I are going to spend a lot of time together, so you must learn to talk to me and let me know what you are thinking, but we can work on that later. For now, I will show you your sleeping quarters. Follow me,” he said as he placed his hand in mine, which caused me to flinch and avoid his gaze again.

He walked out of what I believe was the library. We then walked back into the hallway and up the spiral staircase. The hallway was long, with various doors and pictures lining the walls. My father barely had any art in his home, so I wasn’t used to seeing all these portraits and landscapes. Amos kept our hands intertwined, and we kept going until we stopped at another room with double white doors. He opened them and led me inside.

“This is my room,” he explained. I roamed my eyes around, noticing the big bed, sitting area with a sofa, the wash area, and a dresser. He kept walking through the room until we approached another door near his bedroom’s sitting area.

“This is your room.” He placed his fingers on the brass knob and opened it.

Is my room part of his room? I questioned, as I had never heard of a slave sleeping and living right in a master’s son’s room.

He stepped inside, and I followed behind him. Light from a candle on the dresser flickered, casting light and shadow around the room. The room was simple, reminding me of the wooden cabin I lived in with my mom on my father’s plantation, except there was no kitchen for cooking, just a bed for sleeping and a dresser for clothes. A small rocking chair sat in the corner, with no windows.

“Do you like it?” he asked me with a grin.

“It reminds me of home.” My brown eyes roamed around the room again, thinking about my little sister playing on the floor after helping Mother in the big house. She was only five, but my mother already put her to work with the cooking and cleaning. My little sister was also my father’s child, but thanks to her young age, she was spared from my father’s lust for a few years.

“I’m glad to hear that. Ada, this is your home now, so you should be comfortable here. Before we continue with this evening’s activities, I want to let you know what will be expected of you,” he said as he released my hand.

I stood there, waiting to hear the dreaded tasks I would be saddled with.

“As my slave, you will attend to me, and only me, understand?”

I dropped my bottom lip, not believing what I was hearing. His slave? What happens if I’m ordered to help in the kitchen or go to the field? For a moment, hesitation swelled within me, and I wasn’t sure if it was right to question what he just said; however, if I hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t know what was expected of me.

I clenched and then parted my mouth. “What happens if I am ordered to help in the kitchen or the field? I have to follow my instructions,” I whispered as I lowered my gaze.

Amos chuckled and grinned at me like a parent laughing at a child’s silly question. As a slave, I already felt small in the world, and with his view of me, I felt like a mouse hiding from the cat that was ready to pounce on me.

He placed a finger on my chin and lifted my face to meet his gaze. The corners of his lips turned upwards, and he said, “You are never to work in the field, and if anyone asks you to work in the kitchen, you tell me, understand?”

I nod quickly, not wanting to anger him.

“Good, now, get some water so you can bathe. Only use the washroom in this room. When you’re done, we’ll begin your lessons,” he said as he rubbed the back of his hand down my cheek, making his way to my chest before he stopped. He gave me a quick smile and then walked out of the room. The way he caressed me was gentle, almost as if his promise to not hurt me was true, but masters were fickle, so you couldn't trust them.

I wanted to ask him where I get the water from and how to warm it, but I doubt he would know. As I left my small room, I saw Amos going to his bed. He stood there, studying it, and before he could look at me again, I lowered my eyes and paced out of his quarters. Since Amos didn’t tell me who I should learn from, I headed downstairs.

An older woman, who looked like a house slave, quickly walked past me.

“Excuse me,” I piped up.

“What do you want?” She asked as she turned to face me.

She was wearing a simple blue dress with a white apron and blue bonnet to match. Wrinkles lined her forehead and the edges of her eyes and mouth. To my surprise, her right eye was clouded. She looks blind in that eye.

“Where can I get some water? I was told to take a bath.”

“The well is down by the field. Go straight from the big house. Water buckets are next to the well. Come back here, and I show you how to heat it.”

She turned on her heel and left.

“Abigail, where are you? I’m thirsty.” A woman’s voice echoed from down the hallway. The woman who helped me rushed off more quickly than before.

Is that the lady of the house?

Curiosity took over me, but Amos was waiting. My mother told me never to make my master wait. I rushed out of the house, greeted by the darkness of the night. Stars shone in the sky, and the moon’s light kissed the pathway to the field. I raised my dress past my ankles and hurried straight toward the field. As I kept going, the slave houses came into view. Like my father’s plantation, they were small, wooden cabins. Some of the field slaves glanced my way; their expressions were what I expected, tired and beaten down. Some men were putting away gardening tools from the day’s planting while the women were rubbing their fingers from all the picking.

I didn’t know the pain they were going through. Ever since I was old enough, I was a house slave. My duties involved helping my mother prepare dinner for my father and his wife. Of course, my mother never let me near the mistress; my father’s lawful wife hated my sister and me, and glee covered her face when I was sold to Amos’ father.

I still hadn’t seen the well, so I continued my search. Even though I was past the slave quarters, I still couldn’t find it.

Did I get lost? I spun around, looking every which way until a circle caught my eye next to a group of trees. I ran and noticed the buckets sitting on the group with a rope tied to them. As I began to pick up a bucket, I heard a groan.

I jumped, kicking the bucket over. Again, another groan and moan.

“Who is there?” I shouted out.

“P-Please, h-help m-me,” a masculine voice stammered.

A figure appeared, crawling in the dirt from the other side of the well. From the voice and looks, I could tell it was a man. He was dressed in a dark blue suit that was covered with cuts and slashes. If it weren’t for the color of his skin, I would have thought he was a runaway slave who barely escaped capture. However, with locks of blonde hair covering his face, except for one blue eye that was staring up at me, it was clear he wasn’t a slave. Even on his face, he had bruises and a black eye. He extended his hand, trying to reach for the hem of my dress.

I yelped and was about to run until he said, “Please, do not go-”

I stopped, wondering if he could be another member of the house. If he were, I would surely get punished for not helping him. Then again, Amos told me only to listen to him, so I didn’t know what to do. Before I could touch the mysterious man, he grabbed my ankle and slammed me down.

Bang.

Pain hit my head, running down my back and arms. I hissed as I tried to get up, but the man jumped on top of me and captured both my wrists in a firm grip, pinning me to the ground.

“Feed...I need to feed,” he repeated as his blue eyes became crimson. I opened my mouth to scream, but before any sound could escape me, he pressed his lips to mine, muffling any noise I could make to get help. Piercing pain hit my bottom lip like a knife was digging into my skin, and the taste of iron greeted my taste buds.

What is happening to me? He’s a monster!

Using my legs, I tried to kick him off me, but his body was like rocks piled onto mine, not moving even when I tried to use all my strength. Liquid poured down from my lips onto my neck, and he finally moved to stare down at me. That’s when I finally saw him, the handsome man who attacked me and sucked my lips so hard he made me bleed. His golden hair reached his shoulders, and his water-colored eyes had changed to a fire red. His skin was so pale that he was like a ghost against the backdrop of the darkness. His form was like a painting: regal and elegant. The tresses on his head were gold as they shone under the moon’s light. If he weren’t touching me now, in the flesh, I would have thought he was a living statue in the garden. Blood, my blood, was smeared across his lips and chin. He then extended a tongue and licked it, wiping himself clean of the liquid that dyed his skin red.

As I watched him, his once beat-up face started to heal; his black eye was gone, as if it had never existed. He lowered his gaze to mine, our eyes meeting.

In all my years, I have never seen anything like this before. Some slaves believed that white men were demons, and if that was true, then this man was more than a demon; he was the devil himself. Words wouldn’t leave me as I stayed stunned, in disbelief at what had just happened.

“I am sorry,” he said as he bent back down to my level and gripped my wrists harder than before, “Just a little bit more.”

He brushed his soft lips over my neck and made kisses down to my chest, stopping above my breasts.

“No!” I screamed until he bit down on my flesh; more stabbing pain shot through me, but it was different this time. My heart thumped in my chest; my breathing became labored, and warmth spread between my legs.

What was that?

This feeling was new, but it made me want to feel his bite again. Everything became hazy until I felt his grip loosen, and the weight that once covered me was gone. I looked up, and he was no longer on me but was standing before me, perfectly dressed in what appeared to be a clean navy blue suit.

“How can that be?” Shock overwhelmed me as I lifted off the ground.

I wanted answers to what just happened. Was he also the master’s son? Was he a slave owner or a demon?

“Forgive me; I did not mean to frighten you, but you saved my life,” he said as he bowed his head to me, which caught me off guard. A master should never bow to a slave, let alone apologize. His strange behavior calmed me, and I wanted to know why he acted this way.

“Who are you…and what are you?” I asked, my heart beating like a drum against my chest.

“My name is Clyde, and I am…not normal.” I could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Are you one of Master Evans’ sons?” I asked

He shook his head. “I’m not from this plantation, and I take it you’re a slave here.”

I nodded, and I noticed the sadness that adored his features.

“What is your name?”

“Ada,” I answered.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his golden tresses. “I wish to make a deal with you,” he proclaimed.

I eyed him warily for a second, wondering what deal he could want from a slave. “What is it?”

“Share your blood with me, and when the time comes, I’ll help you to freedom. I promise you, you will get up north with no problem,” he declared, standing firm in his resolve, which caught me by surprise.

My eyes went wide. Freedom. No longer would I be a slave to others, and I could make my own choices. “Yes.” I didn’t delay. If a man of his stature could take me to freedom, I wouldn’t waste his offer.

He smiled at me then. The expression on his face sent a strange feeling through me, something I hadn’t felt before. Images of when he was on me came to me, causing warmth to spread to my cheeks.

What’s this feeling?

“Then it’s a deal. Every other night, when the stars fully cover the sky, we’ll meet here,” he said as he pointed to the well. “Do not tell anyone about this.” His tone was serious.

“All right, but–”

“Girl! Girl, are you good down there!” A voice yelled at me. I spun around to see who it was. Some of the field slaves were walking toward me with concern. Before I could warn Clyde, he was no longer in front of me. I flickered my gaze from side to side, trying to find him, but he had disappeared.

How could he do that? Demons aren’t real, so…

“You better hurry up, girl! Master Amos is asking for you,” a male slave said as he approached me and picked up a bucket to hand it to me.

Amos! I had nearly forgotten that he was waiting for me. As I grabbed the bucket from the slave and dropped it into the well, my thoughts wandered back to Clyde. Why does he need my blood, and how can he move and heal so fast? I remembered how he pressed his lips to mine, and after he bit me, something sparked inside me I hadn’t felt before. I wanted to feel it again, even for a little bit. At least two nights from now, we could meet again, but I had to plan how to get away from Amos and explain the cut on my bottom lip. I could only hope that he wouldn’t be angry with me, and I wondered about the lessons he told me about.