By My Choice...: A Valentine's Day Story (Valentine's Day Stories) Read Online Free PDF

Though, for a vampire, Valentine’s Day had a more mystical, a darker meaning too.  
    “Tomorrow, we will celebrate.” Now there was open satisfaction in his tone.  
    Something seemed off to her in his answer, an evasion she could not quite grasp, but as they had come to the end of their journey she ignored her suspicion, attributed it to her rusty grasp of French and prepared to meet the Court’s Lord and Master.  
    They had reached a small room, opulent as the rest of the house had been, but its luxury had an atmosphere of waiting, of cooled heels. There was only one exit from it, across from the archway they had entered through. She knew it must be the Lord’s study behind that door. It made her hands slick with sweat. There was no way to hide the coffee stain on her jeans, or to smooth the wrinkles in her shirt, no matter how much she pulled on the seam. Jen tried to calm herself in the knowledge it was his own fault — he had demanded her immediate presence; he had been the one to insist, out of some medieval Lord of the Manor sentiment, she leave behind all her possessions. It did not help. She was just vain enough, just woman enough, to cringe in mortification under the state she found herself in.  
    Her unhappy thoughts had distracted her for a moment so that she was surprised by the small wicker basket appearing in her field of vision. She looked a question at her guide.  
    “The Lord asks you to hand over all jewellery and other personal items on your body before entering his chambers.”
    Her face must have shown the incredulity, the absolute incomprehension at the edict, for he gave the little basket a gentle shake as if to make sure she understood he expected her to divest herself of her earrings, necklace, presumably phone, keys and wallet into it. Anger rose hot and fast.
    “Would you like me to leave my clothes out here too?” Sarcasm might only be second to wit, but it was the best defence she could muster at the moment.  
    “That won’t be necessary. His Lordship did not leave any orders regarding your clothing.”
    He seemed absolutely unflappable, merely holding out the basket for her perusal as if he would be willing to wait a decade for her to drop her belongings into it. And he might be, for all she knew. She was the only one with a limited lifespan here. Her anger broke on that wall of quiet calm. Where was the point? She might not have seen one single person on their way here but he was perfectly capable of subduing her on his own were she to resist — and he would be in his rights to do so. Her fealty contract lasted for another three months.  
    With slow, deliberate movements she pulled her thin wallet, her phone and the keys she would never need again from her pocket to drop them into the basket. Her necklace, her earrings, her bracelet followed. Her only hesitation came over the small amber ring on her right hand, the only piece of jewellery with any sentimental value. It had been a present from Fabian to her eighteenth birthday, its stone reminding him of her eyes when she laughed, or so he had said. She had never taken it off. There was a strange irony in taking it off now, here, for the first time. She dropped it into the basket with a sense of finality.  
    Her gaze rose to his, the challenge in them unhidden. It was easy to identify the emotion in his as their eyes locked. It was pity.
    “We will keep them safe for you, Mademoiselle.”  
    Jen knew his voice was designed to soothe her, to reassure, but it left her cold. She was too tired, too hurt, and too familiar with the cold detachment of emotional despair for it to touch her. She remained silent as he opened the door and indicated for her to precede him inside. What was there left to say?  

Taken

    The room she entered surprised her, whereas the man behind the desk did not. Jen expected to meet the Lord of Paris, and her liege for the next three months, in his public study - or possibly another of the official court