Page 31 of Maksym

“No.”

His mouth twitched.

I pointed the fork at him before remembering it had bent earlier. “You said I would be taught. Consider this the introductory lecture.”

He leaned back slightly, not away from me exactly, but into the sort of posture men took when preparing to answer under oath.

“We maintain a regulated donor system,” he said. “Willing humans. Paid extremely well. Screened medically and magically. Protected by contract and by Crown law. They set limits. Those limits are enforced. A donor may revoke consent at any time.”

I listened without moving.

“There are donors in Amethyst,” he continued. “There are also private arrangements for those who prefer discretion. No vampire under my rule is permitted to feed from an unwilling human. No coercive debt structures. No hidden corrals. No blood slaves.”

The last two words altered the room. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The words came out with an edge so cold it made my skin tighten.

I believed he hated them. That did not mean I fully trusted him. But I believed that much.

“And if someone violates that?” I asked.

“They die.”

No hesitation. The prosecutor in me marked the answer: clear, direct, prejudicial as hell. The woman in me, the one Lucian had starved and bled and humiliated, did not object.

“Convenient legal system,” I said. “No appeals?”

“There are hearings when facts are uncertain. Investigations. Witnesses. Records. Taras is meticulous enough to make bureaucracy weep. But where blood slavery is proven, the sentence is death.”

I looked down at the wine.

Lucian Devereux had believed himself too powerful for consequences. Men like him always did. Vampires too, apparently. Power produced the same rot regardless of pulse.

“How often do you... feed?” I asked again.

“It varies. Newly turned vampires require more. Trauma increases the need. Royal blood in you will make you stronger, but strength requires fuel. Tonight, you have had some of my blood and this wine. That will likely be enough until you wake. Tomorrow we will assess.”

Assess. I almost smiled. Almost.

“What happens if I refuse?”

His eyes held mine. “Then you will suffer.”

“Eventually?”

“Soon.”

“You will weaken first,” he said. “Then pain. Confusion. Instinct becomes louder than reason. A starving vampire is dangerous, especially a new one. I will do everything in my power to make sure you never reach that point.”

“Without force?”

The question left before I could soften it. I did not want to soften it.

His hands remained visible on the table. “Without force.”

“You already used force once.”

“Yes.”

The single word sat between us. No argument. No excuse. My throat tightened.