She eyes the front door and thinks of running back into the office and locking herself somewhere.
"You can get in quietly, or I can have my driver throw you in. Your choice."
That's not much of a choice at all. "You can't do that," she says automatically, looking around her. There's a security guard at the door who is very deliberately looking away from them. Maybe if she could get his attention-
"You'll find that I can do whatever I want, Kristy," Peter says, full of confidence.
She swallows the lump in her throat. He's right. Peter is a powerful man. Nobody in their right minds would want to cross the leader of all the vampires in this part of the hemisphere. She slides into the car with dread in her stomach. The seats are heated for her benefit. Vampires don't need to stay warm.
"Hello, Mr. Peter," she says, sweating under her shirt. "Are you here to kidnap me?"
He raises a perfectly shaped brow at her and manages a small smile. "You are very amusing," he says at last and gestures for her to close the door. She is glad for the box of her stuff to sit between their bodies. It creates a sort of barrier that gives her a sense of security.
"Why am I here?" she asks.
"I hear you have been having trouble at work, little one," he says.
She's not little but she bites her lip and keeps that to herself and focuses on the more worrying part of that sentence where he basically confessed that he's been been keeping track of her. "How did you find out?" she asks.
"I have my sources," he answers cryptically, his attention wandering from her eyes to her neck.
She suddenly wishes she had worn a scarf and breathes as quietly as she can. She knows it's irrational but it feels as though he can see the veins on her neck, blood pumping through her body. "Why are you here, Mr. Peter?" she asks again.
He hums, looking at her without actually seeing her. "Did you know that there is a 50% chance of a human being born between a Werewolf and a human couple?" he asks and with his eyes on her own, the car feels suffocating.
The divider keeps her from seeing who's driving the vehicle. "I didn't know that," she answers faintly.
"The government have been recruiting humans in an effort to repopulate our country, but they've been overzealous. Humans are seeking the bite in order to escape recruitment and as a result, have accidentally sterilized themselves. Do you see where I'm going with this?" he asks.
Not really.
It doesn't seem to matter whether she understands him. He continues, "Do you know why some vampires prefer human blood, Kristy?"
"We're delicious?" she answers faintly. She feels lightheaded already. She definitely shouldn't have climbed into the car, no matter how intimidating Peter looks.
He makes an appreciative sound, like he's thinking about it already and she should really stop giving him ideas about eating her. "Yes, and your blood isn't mixed with whichever animal Shifters are half of. Shifter blood tastes and smells like animal blood, you see. Vampire blood tastes stale and recycled. Yours, however, is completely untainted. Completely perfect. Just like you, Kristy."
She laughs, a little hysterical, hoping the little noise would ease the tension in the car. "Why am I here, Mr. Peter?"
He sits back and leans his head against the headrest, eyes forward. Ironically, the sudden absence of his intense scrutiny on her body makes her feel more tense. "Have you thought about our proposition, Ms. Kristin?" he asks.
She thinks proposition is the right word. He doesn't want just her blood. He wants her body and soul too. She nods. "I don't- If it's about the money, I'll find another job. I'll keep working. You don't have to worry about that. I'll- I'll pay you back."
He chuckles. "You can work everyday for the rest of your life and you still wouldn't be able to pay me back everything I'm owed, li
ttle one," he says and reaches into the side pocket by the door of the car, retrieving a stack of papers and then putting them in her lap. "Sign these," he says, dropping the pen on top. "From today onwards, you belong to me."
Deep down, she had known this was coming from the day she agreed to take money in exchange for making her mother's last days bearable. Right now though, she's wishing she hadn't signed away her rights so easily, wishes she had looked for alternatives.
It's hard to focus her eyes with the nerves eating away inside her, gnawing uncomfortably under her skin with every inhale. "Should- should I read these?" she asks, flipping through the pages without reading anything because her eyes are burning with unshed tears and she's panicking inside, heartbeat going erratic, cold sweat forming on her forehead and fingers trembling so hard that the papers shake in her hands. She has to grip it tighter. Even the paper it's printed on feels expensive.
"You could," he says. "But you have to sign them afterwards anyways. You're already behind on payment and you don't want to know what happens to people who don't pay me back, love."
She is a little bit curious about what would happen to people who don't pay him back, but she also doesn't want to risk a demonstration. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to steel herself. Then, she picks up the pen and signs at the bottom of the page. Her fingers shake and the signature comes out like chicken scratch, but it's acceptable. Certain words jump out to her on every page that she's signing. Things like 'complete surrender of basic rights', 'adult video', and 'chemical treatments'.
She tries not to have a panic attack.
Chapter Three: Control