She had only started the carving at this place, to which they had moved her three months earlier by her own count. At her previous prison, there had been no possibility to do the same—the walls had been made of concrete. Why they had moved her to this place, she didn’t know. But one night, they’d simply packed everything and everybody onto several trucks and deserted the building from which they’d conducted their bloody business.

When the key turned in the lock, Ursula looked at the door. It swung open, revealing the guard who had come to lead her to a room where the next customer was already salivating for a taste. She recognized him as Dirk, and of all the guards, she hated him most. He took obvious pleasure in seeing her suffer, in seeing her be humiliated night after night.

There were always four guards on duty for the thirteen-or-so prisoners if she had counted correctly, even though there were more vampires on the premises. Whether her count of the girls was correct, she could never be sure; recently they had brought in two new girls, and it had been a while since she’d seen a girl called Lanfen. Had she died? Had they finally wrung too much from her fragile body? Ursula shuddered at the thought. No, she couldn’t give up. She had to fight on, hope that she would somehow be saved.

“Your turn,” Dirk ordered with a motion of his head.

She complied as she always did, setting one foot in front of the other, knowing that he would use whatever means necessary to make sure she executed his command. And means he had plenty. She had been at the receiving end of each and every one of them and could say with certainty that she liked none of his methods.

As she walked past him, her head held high, she felt his body shift. Then his mouth was at her ear.

“I like watching you the best. You’ve got more spirit than all the others together. Makes it so much more exciting. Have I ever told you what a turn-on that is for me?”

A cold shiver of disgust ran down her spine.

“Always have to jerk off right after it.”

Ursula closed her eyes and pushed down the bile that rose as a result of his words. How dare he taunt her with something he knew was beyond her reach and the reach of every woman they had kidnapped?

When she turned and glared at him, he laughed.

“Oh, I forgot, that’s right, you can’t get off, can you? Despite the arousal that we allow you to sense, you’ll never climax. Pity that.”

Without thinking, she spit in his face. “Sick bastard.”

Slowly he wiped the spit off his face, glaring at her with red flickering eyes. It took only a second for his fangs to descend. Then the back of his hand hit her right across the cheek, whipping her head to the side so forcefully that she feared it would rip her head off her shoulders.

Pain seared through her, a feeling she had learned to tolerate to a greater extent than she’d thought was possible. A defiant glare still in her eyes, she was aware that he would hurt her no further. She was too valuable to them. He couldn’t kill the golden goose. His leader would stake him for it without giving it a second thought.

Dirk was holding onto his control with his last ounce of strength—she could see it in the glow of his red irises and the way the cords in his neck bulged. For an instant, she felt pride wash over her. She had gotten to him.

One nil for the human.

“Watch out, Ursula, one day you’ll pay for this.”

“Not tonight, vampire.”

Because tonight, a customer was waiting for her. And he wanted his merchandise unblemished. After all, he was paying a high price for it.

Ursula had overheard the guards talking about the amounts of money that changed hands, and she’d been shocked. At the same time, it had made her aware of just how valuable each of the women they held was. And that they couldn’t afford to lose one. It gave her some leverage.

Ursula turned and walked ahead of him, refraining from touching her cheek to soothe the pain. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know that her flesh still stung from his violent slap. She had too much pride for that. Yes, even after three years, she hadn’t let go of it yet. It was what kept her going, what fueled her defiance.

“The blue room,” Dirk ordered behind her.

She turned the corner and headed for the room at the very end, passing a small window that would have provided light during the day, had it not been painted black from the inside. As she entered the familiar room, she allowed her eyes to roam. It was a corner room. There were two windows, one overlooking the main road, the other the side alley that culminated in a dead end. Both windows were small and hung with heavy velvet curtains.