No Longer Her Blood Bag

No Longer Her Blood Bag

Gavin

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My name is Ethan, and for seven years, I was a vampire's blood thrall, a living blood bag for Victoria, my supposed mistress. Every day was pure agony, battling the "Pact Strain" – a searing pain that only her blood could ease, blood she rarely offered. I endured her extreme neglect, her casual cruelty, feeling my spirit erode away, piece by painful piece. Then, Liam arrived – a human she rescued, immediately wrapped in her obsessive affection. My suffering became unbearable, my very existence dismissed as she doted on him. The ultimate betrayal came when she literally offered my throat to a newly turned, rabid Liam, commanding him to feed on me to stabilize his transformation. I was just a disposable sacrifice. Through a haze of pain and fading vision, I saw the truth: I was nothing but a living convenience, a mere self-service blood bank. How could I have been so blind, so endlessly devoted to someone who saw me as less than an object? The agonizing bite paled in comparison to the sting of her absolute disregard. But in that moment of dying despair, a desperate, cunning spark ignited. I feigned unconsciousness, using my self-inflicted wounds as a cover. I would escape. I would find my chance to destroy the pact's binding artifact, and finally sever these chains of torment. What happens when your enslaver tries to reclaim you, threatening the one kind soul who ever helped you?

Introduction

My name is Ethan, and for seven years, I was a vampire's blood thrall, a living blood bag for Victoria, my supposed mistress.

Every day was pure agony, battling the "Pact Strain" – a searing pain that only her blood could ease, blood she rarely offered.

I endured her extreme neglect, her casual cruelty, feeling my spirit erode away, piece by painful piece.

Then, Liam arrived – a human she rescued, immediately wrapped in her obsessive affection.

My suffering became unbearable, my very existence dismissed as she doted on him.

The ultimate betrayal came when she literally offered my throat to a newly turned, rabid Liam, commanding him to feed on me to stabilize his transformation.

I was just a disposable sacrifice.

Through a haze of pain and fading vision, I saw the truth: I was nothing but a living convenience, a mere self-service blood bank.

How could I have been so blind, so endlessly devoted to someone who saw me as less than an object?

The agonizing bite paled in comparison to the sting of her absolute disregard.

But in that moment of dying despair, a desperate, cunning spark ignited.

I feigned unconsciousness, using my self-inflicted wounds as a cover.

I would escape.

I would find my chance to destroy the pact's binding artifact, and finally sever these chains of torment.

What happens when your enslaver tries to reclaim you, threatening the one kind soul who ever helped you?

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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