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turned on her heel and stormed away.
    “Respect. Ha! I haven’t learned it yet. And you haven’t earned it,” Mira shouted back to her Owner. She was already in for the worst punishment possible – might as well get in a final jab while she could.
    “Damn, girl.” George whistled. “Humans do love a tan, but you’re going to be one crispy thing after forty-eight hours.”
    Mira had no reply. He spoke the truth. The lightbox was truly the worst kind of punishment a vampire could be given. Intermittent flashes of light just long enough to burn but not long enough to kill. It was with methods like this that the humans had enslaved her kind. One weakness was all they needed to exploit. Humans grossly outnumbered vampires, and with this one weakness, they had brought the vampire nation to its knees.

Chapter 3
     
    Two days of pure hell inside that tiny metal box had fried more than Mira’s skin. Anger boiled over inside her. At that moment she hated humans and everything about them. Worst of all, she hated the fact she had once been a human. To have anything in common with those savage inhumane beasts was an outrage. Weak and exhausted, Mira needed blood so badly she could barely walk, a fact that had her handlers noticeably on edge. A starving vampire could snap at any moment’s time. Taking extra precautions, they used the thickest silver coated chains and cuffs possible. She’d also been fitted with a ball gag for the trek back to her cell. Even with the additional precautions, Mira could tell the female handler was nervous. There was no mistaking the tang of fear in the air. Still, though she was clearly still concerned about Mira’s temperament, the female handler did not hold back her contempt as she roughly pulled Mira’s lumbering and aching body towards the cell.
    Just the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other was a laborious task. Every movement hurt, every muscle ached; her skin, burnt and raw, pulled and ripped with each movement. Wanting nothing more than a few moments of darkness and peace, Mira found the strength to lift her gaze long enough to watch the male handler’s fingers nimbly tap the ten digit code into the lock pad.  95182… Before she could spy the last few numbers, her handler shifted his body in front, blocking her view. The pattern seemed simple enough that she might guess the next few numbers. When she was healthy enough, she’d try it. For now, she could barely hold herself upright. A rarity for her, Mira didn’t even move as they undid her bonds. She welcomed their removal. One less pain in the sea of agony she was swimming in.
    Like a sack of garbage, Mira was tossed down on the cold concrete floor. She hissed as her head came crashing down against the unyielding ground. Stars danced in her vision. They slammed the cell door shut behind her. The echo of the bars clanging together added to the sharpness of her aching head.
    Every inch of Mira was raw and exposed. Her burned skin cracked and peeled. Nerves on edge, even the slightest flicker from the overhead lamp caused her to jump.
    Damn them. Fucking humans.
    “How was the tanning salon?” George taunted.
    She was in no mood for his playful jabs, and feared opening her mouth because there was no telling what manner of verbal bile she might accidentally spew in his direction. Times like this, there was only one thing to soothe Mira’s vicious spirit. She needed blood. Fast. Problem was, Mira couldn’t remember if she’d stashed the last of her rations, or if she’d been too gluttonous the last time she’d been punished. Rations, even for her, a prize fighter, were few and far between. Every tiny drop was coveted, and occasionally, she overindulged. Mira hoped there would be something left over. Who knew when she’d be allowed to feed again? And in her current state, she was this close to losing all control.
    “Seriously, girl, you all right?” All humor had left George’s voice.
    “Blood,” Mira