Three days had passed since Sera's transfer to the Premium section. Three days of enhanced nutrition, reguted sleep cycles, and the subtly terrifying deference of staff who now handled her like fine crystal—valuable but ultimately disposable.

  Today, the Premium wing hummed with tense activity. The Nobility Feeding Ceremony—a monthly ritual where Count Dominic Ashcroft selected his personal blood supply—had thrown the entire section into meticulously choreographed chaos.

  Apparently vampire aristocrats require the full buffet experience before deciding which human entree to sample. Nothing says 'superior species' like a ritualized version of grocery shopping.

  Premium Resources underwent rigorous preparation. First came the specialized cleansing protocols—a clinical bathing process using unscented products designed to eliminate any trace of chemical interference with "natural fvor profiles." The staff spoke about humans in the same terms Sera had once heard used for wines at a resistance safehouse that had previously been a vineyard.

  "Resource 4172, proceed to nutrition station for pre-feeding supplements," announced a technician who hadn't bothered to make eye contact once in three days.

  Sera accepted the dark red liquid, thick and metallic-tasting. "Blood enhancers," they called them—supplements to improve fvor, stability, and recovery rates. The irony wasn't lost on her.

  Drinking blood to make my blood more delicious for bloodsuckers. This level of circur consumption deserves some kind of philosophical award.

  Next came the designated feeding attire—simple gray garments with strategic design elements. The short sleeves exposed wrists and forearms. The modest V-neck left the throat accessible. Form-fitting enough to prevent hiding weapons or tools, loose enough to allow easy access to major blood vessels. The outfit was a masterpiece of utilitarian vampiric convenience disguised as simple clothing.

  "Premium Resources, final inspection," called the section supervisor, moving down the line of humans now assembled in the preparation hall. "Remember protocol: eyes down, posture straight, responses minimal. The Count expects professional presentation."

  Professional presentation. Because nothing says 'take me seriously' like being lined up with other entrees waiting to be taste-tested by the walking dead.

  The Premium Resources were arranged in the ceremonial chamber according to a complex hierarchy of blood types, genetic markers, and previous popurity rankings. Sera found herself positioned near the middle—not prestigious enough for prime pcement but apparently interesting enough to avoid the back row.

  The chamber itself would have been beautiful under other circumstances. Subdued lighting created an atmosphere of quiet elegance. The feeding stations were crafted from polished wood and leather rather than the sterile metal of standard extraction facilities. Soft instrumental music pyed at precisely the right volume to cover uncomfortable sounds without disrupting conversation.

  Vampire Yelp review: Excellent ambiance, attentive staff, blood served at perfect temperature. The humans looked appropriately terrified. Five stars, would consume again.

  When Count Dominic Ashcroft arrived, the entire room stiffened. He entered with his entourage—Administrator Wilson, Dr. Harlow, two security personnel, and a sophisticated-looking woman Sera hadn't seen before who carried a tablet for notes. Unlike the clinical detachment of the facility staff, these individuals operated as extensions of Dominic himself, their movements coordinated with practiced precision around his centralizing presence.

  The Count himself moved with aristocratic indifference. Dressed impeccably in a tailored bck suit that somehow absorbed rather than reflected the room's subtle lighting, he projected the casual confidence of someone who had never questioned his absolute authority. His physical appearance was deceptive—he looked perhaps twenty-five, with the perfect features of an enhanced vampire, but his movements carried the weight of decades, possibly centuries.

  And here comes the guest of honor. Dracu meets corporate CEO, ready to sample this month's vintages. Probably has a PowerPoint presentation on optimal fang insertion techniques.

  The ceremony began with Administrator Wilson's formal presentation: "Count Ashcroft, we present Premium Resources for your consideration and selection. Each specimen has been evaluated for compatibility with your documented preferences."

  Dominic nodded almost imperceptibly, beginning his progression down the line of humans. He paused occasionally, listening to Wilson's detailed descriptions of particur specimens. Some he passed without comment. Others he approached for closer inspection, occasionally selecting one for a brief taste.

  The feeding process itself was clinically efficient. A selected human would be directed to a feeding station, where they would extend their arm over a designated rest. The Count would sample briefly from the wrist—neck feeding considered too intimate for selection purposes—before continuing his evaluation. Some resources returned to line looking relieved. Others appeared disoriented from the experience.

  The vampire version of speed dating. Brief taste, no conversation, next candidate please. At least there's no awkward 'I'll call you' lies at the end.

  As Dominic approached her position, Sera maintained the perfect Premium Resource posture: shoulders back, chin slightly elevated to expose the throat, eyes respectfully lowered without appearing fearful. Her hunter training, ironically, served her well in maintaining the expected bearing.

  "Resource 4172," Wilson announced as Dominic reached her position. "New acquisition with exceptional regenerative markers. Laboratory analysis indicates unique compatibility potential with your physiological profile. Blood type O-negative with elevated endorphin content and unusual stability markers."

  The Count paused, studying her with clinical detachment. This close, Sera could sense the predatory stillness that centuries of aristocratic refinement couldn't entirely conceal. His gaze moved over her with analytical precision—not the scivious assessment she'd experienced from lower-ranking vampires, but something more disturbing: the evaluation of quality, like a jeweler assessing a potentially valuable stone.

  Just another vampire window-shopping for his favorite juice box, Sera thought darkly while maintaining her carefully neutral expression. Ten years hunting these monsters, and now I'm standing in a vampire buffet line waiting to be sampled. Commander Vex would have an aneurysm.

  Something in her posture or Wilson's description caught the Count's interest. He gestured toward the nearest feeding station. "This one."

  Sera moved to the designated position as she'd been instructed, pcing her arm on the polished wooden rest. The design was ergonomically perfect—supporting her arm at precisely the right angle to expose the wrist while keeping the rest of her body at a respectful distance from the vampire.

  They've really thought of everything. I wonder if there's a vampire furniture designer who specializes in human feeding stations. 'Ergonomic blood extraction solutions for the discerning undead.'

  Dominic approached with aristocratic indifference. For him, this was clearly routine—merely selecting another premium vintage from his territory's collection. His cold fingers positioned her wrist with precision, the contact clinical rather than intimate.

  When his fangs pierced her skin, Sera was prepared for pain—the extraction training she'd undergone as a hunter had included simuted vampire feeding to prepare operatives for maintaining cover if necessary. What she wasn't prepared for was Dominic's reaction.

  The Count's eyes widened in shock as the first taste registered. What was meant to be a brief sampling extended as he continued to feed, his expression transforming from boredom to intense focus. The room fell silent as staff recognized this departure from the normal procedure.

  The sensation was unlike anything Sera had experienced during hunter training simutions. The pull of blood created a disturbing one-way intimacy—she could sense nothing from him, but his continued feeding suggested he was experiencing something profound from her. She forced herself to maintain the expected reaction—slight trembling, accelerated breathing—while internally calcuting how much blood he was taking and how to use this unexpected reaction to her advantage.

  Great. My blood is apparently the vampire equivalent of a fine vintage Bordeaux. Of all the special skills to discover, 'extraordinarily delicious to the undead' wasn't on my career wishlist.

  When Dominic finally withdrew, he appeared momentarily disoriented—something unprecedented in his usually controlled demeanor. He stared at Sera with new intensity, then abruptly turned to Wilson.

  "This one," he stated with unexpected urgency in his normally measured voice. "Mark her for exclusive access. My personal reserve."

  Wilson stammered acknowledgment, clearly surprised by the Count's unusually direct interest in a specific resource. Dominic composed himself quickly, resuming his aristocratic mask, but his gaze returned to Sera with calcution as the formal proceedings continued.

  Congratutions, Sera, she thought with grim humor as the ceremony concluded and a distinctive red band was attached to her wrist, marking her as exclusively reserved for Count Dominic. You've been promoted from generic premium blood bag to the Count's personal vintage. Mother would be so proud her daughter finally found a man who literally can't live without her.

  The staff's behavior toward her changed instantly—increased deference mixed with wariness, recognizing that her treatment now directly reflected on their performance to the Count. The medical team immediately conducted a comprehensive health assessment, now that she'd become Dominic's exclusive resource.

  "Standard nutrition protocols insufficient for maintaining optimal fvor profile," Dr. Harlow decred, examining readings on her tablet. The clinical discussion barely acknowledged Sera's presence. "Current stress markers already affecting cellur stability. Recommend specialized supplementation despite resource allocation concerns."

  "The Count's reaction suggests exceptional quality," Harlow continued, frowning at her dispys, "but our baseline readings indicate potential fragility in maintaining that quality. These levels will deteriorate rapidly under standard extraction volumes."

  "Implement the premium protocol then," Administrator Wilson ordered, clearly uncomfortable with allocating additional resources but more afraid of disappointing the Count. "Minimum required supplements only. We'll monitor closely and adjust if quality deterioration becomes detectable."

  I've gone from human to premium product to limited edition collectible in two weeks ft. Next they'll be discussing the optimal humidity for my storage conditions.

  Left alone in her cell that evening, Sera examined the red band now permanently attached to her wrist. Being marked as Dominic's exclusive resource presented both extraordinary danger and unprecedented opportunity. The closer proximity to vampire leadership could provide intelligence beyond anything the resistance had accessed before, but the increased attention dramatically raised her risk of exposure.

  Tomorrow, according to her new "exclusive resource" orientation, she would be transported to Count Dominic's estate for her first formal feeding session. The personal reserve was maintained separate from general Premium Resources—kept in specialized accommodations at the Count's private residence to ensure optimal quality and avaibility.

  Sera stared at the ceiling of her private room, far more comfortable than the dormitory pod she'd occupied upon arrival, yet infinitely more dangerous.

  If I'm going to be the Count's personal wine celr, she thought with dark determination, I might as well use it to uncork his secrets.