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Donor to a Vampire

The blood of the innocent has always been this vampire’s favorite meal. Meanwhile, Dess is a bartender, serving libations to a rowdy crowd. Dess has seen it all, but she’s taken aback when a vampire asks for a drink…and it’s definitely ~not~ a beer. Can Dess resist his advances, or will she become the vampire’s favorite donor?

Age Rating: 18+


Donor to a Vampire by V.E.Rok is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.



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The blood of the innocent has always been this vampire’s favorite meal. Meanwhile, Dess is a bartender, serving libations to a rowdy crowd. Dess has seen it all, but she’s taken aback when a vampire asks for a drink…and it’s definitely not a beer. Can Dess resist his advances, or will she become the vampire’s favorite donor?

Age Rating: 18+

Original Author: V.E.Rok

Note: This story is the author's original version and does not have sound.


It was here.

All the waiting and planning he made during more than five millennia was finally, after all this era, here ready for him to seize it.

Laughing hard with glee, above him shined a red full moon that was like him bathing in the sea of red.

The blood moon was a good omen for his malicious deeds and to make a tribute to the celestial body he was sitting in a basin full of the red liquid. Blood of the innocent always had an appeal to him.

It was time to rise, to reap the seeds he planted aeons ago.

Sitting back into his stone basin, adorning a mask of indifference on his features, the momentary joyful explosion was behind him; it was time to start walking the outlining of his plan strategically.

“Let us reign some chaos onto my unsuspecting subjects, unknowing who the pandemonium shall unleash. The King of the shadows, the Puppeteer of the Universe is moving his first pawn.”

He shall start imposing anarchy at the very proud and utterly pompous Synod of the Vampire world.

The arrogant and ever narcissistic Stainless needed to be reminded that he was still here at the top of the food chain even though he was long forgotten.

But still in the shadows, waiting, planning, pulling invisibly at the strings was the Shade.


“Bring us another round, will ya!” Shouted a very intoxicated patron of The Sage bar.

He smelled like he sounded, disgusting. But what brings the money in, I can’t complain, and even if I wanted to make some rules in this chaos, I wouldn’t be heard.

I was a small fish in this big ocean, after all.

“Right-o,” I said in a sing-song voice, which usually brings in the tips. His glance at my long legs did not go unnoticed.

You creep.

The kinder I was, not to mention the shorter the skirt, the customers submitted their dollar bills more willingly, which later turned into my much-needed pay.

I hummed along to the music loudly booming from the speakers while working on a new order. My hips swayed with the rhythm, and I heard the jingling of the change landing into the glass Tip Jar.

Keep em’ coming boys.

The Sage was, as always, full to the brink. Drunken customers were trying to run away from their mundane lives with booze and a wish to find someone to feel less alone for the rest of the night.

Some of them were already making out and passing saliva in the darkest parts of the bar, although I couldn’t care less for that.

While filling the pitcher up with beer for the tenth time this evening, a girl passed out on the bar counter was being forced into another drink by her fellow girlfriends.

The bachelorette party was making shrieking sounds, which frightened me out of my skin the first couple of times; however, I was used to them by now.

The other customers were still spilling their drinks and cussing them out when another bridesmaid shrieked: “Christa is getting married! !”

Must be nice, having such supportive friends to take you out and make you piss out drunk.

The next morning with a hell of a hangover and no memory, I would probably be finding myself a new group of friends.

As I was making my way down the dancing crowd with a big, full tray toward the table, I felt a slap on my ass—more than once. I stopped and gritted my teeth.

No personal boundaries with this lot, there never is.

“I believe this is yours, boys.” Masking my irritation, I set the liquor down on the already full table littered with empty glasses. “Here’s the bill, pay by the register.”

“How much for you, baby?” One who thought was the brave one of the group said with a big slimy grin.

“Do you come with the bill?” His attempts to flirt were accompanied by wolf howls and whistles of the rest. He was too drunk even to sit straight let alone pick up a girl with that stupid sexist line.

Think about Jeremy; think about Jeremy.

I muttered my mantra, trying not to feel sick to my stomach as one of them stared at my cleavage, not that my shirt offered much coverage.

The owner wanted his ‘working girls’ to be skimpily dressed so that more of that dollar dough flowed into the register.

Humiliation was something I was used to at this place, but I had to live with it if I wanted to keep this job.

“I am not on the menu.” I politely turned the rude guy down and leaving the said table to do rounds for more orders.

When I finally arrived at the bar counter, my annoyance was replaced by seething anger. I was groped at least five times, slapped on the ass two times and almost puked on once.

But who was keeping score?

While breathing deeply, I tried to remain calm with blushed cheeks even though my dignity was shattered somewhere behind me on the dance floor.

“You fine, Dess?” Jones, one of the male bartenders, asked in fake concern.

“Yeah, peachy. Tell the other girls to be careful of the roaming hands.”

Jones rolled his eyes. “If the owner didn’t pay so well, I would make a damn scene.”

Sure he would, in his dreams.

Jones was a big guy; however, he was all talk and no action. Like a big, scary elephant who was terrified of the littlest mouse. We girls at The Sage had to take care of ourselves.

But as Jones said, The Sage paid well, probably to shut the employees up.

At 2 AM, The Sage closed its’ doors for the night, and I was officially off. The cleaning crew would have a hell of a lot to clean in five hours, although that was no concern of mine.

I had enough of other worries to cause me a head full of grey hair.

I checked my flip phone for any messages or missed calls from the Grace Hospital. There were none, and I sighed in relief the burden falling off my shoulders for the night.

With a less worry on my mind, I hurried to my one-room apartment. I had to be up in four hours for my second part-time waitressing job.

There was absolutely no rest for the wicked.


Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!


The next day went on as usual. I worked the morning shift at The Moniques, a small but lively dinner that felt much friendlier than the bar.

Thankfully tonight was my day off, and the mayhem that was The Sage will have to wait for me for another working night.

The dinner owner, whose name was, surprise, Monique, was very understanding and made a lot of compromises so that I could work only the morning till late afternoon shifts.

Her generosity was a positive reminder that there are still good people on this big ol’ shitty Earth. The positivity of it was very welcoming when my thoughts turned dark every once in a while.

Like now, for instance, when I needed to go to the Grace Hospital to visit Jeremy. I made my way down the ward that I got to know like a second home.

Everything smelled like hand sanitiser and alcohol wipes. Everything was sterile, although there was something stale in the air that no amount of cleaning could eradicate.

Flickering light above was making a soft humming noise when I entered the otherwise quiet room. The constant flashing of an I.V.

pump signalled the end of the programmed infusion, which made the whole image of the hospital room a cruel reality.

Little skinny boy, much too small for his age, was occupying his designated hospital bed. I sat in the chair by the mattress that was freshly changed and clad in clean sheets.

“Jeremy.” I gently touched the boys’ bald head, hoping to wake him up gradually from his dream.

After a few tosses and turns, Jeremy cracked open his sleepy eyes. When his light blue eyes met my amber ones, I smiled. Recognition dawned on his face and, he was all smiles.

There was something magical about children’s smiles; it was like watching the sun come up for the first time. When my little brother gave me such a smile, I considered it a unique gift.

I swear it felt like liquid sunshine that warmed my chest every single time I received it.

“Dess!” The boy howled with delight while raising his arms above his head.

As skinny as Jeremy was, he still got a lot of strength when he hugged me around the waist.

“Hey, hey, little man, let me breathe.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” He pouted and squeezed me even tighter.

I was going to cough my ribs out if this continued.

“You saw me two days ago, you little monster.” Wheezing I tapped him on his arms and Jeremy slightly loosened his hold.

“As my big sister, it is your daily duty to visit me and entertain me every day.”

“Quite demanding aren’t aren’t we?” I tickled him on the sides, which resulted in loud giggles and squealing bouncing off the yellow walls, filling the room.

“Do you forgive me?” Laughing as he squirmed under my tickling fingers, I decided that I would stop to hear him reply.

“Never!” cried Jeremy.

“Then here comes the Tickle Monster!” Hooking my fingers into hooks and wiggling them, I slowly came towards Jeremy, threateningly.

“No, not the Tickle Monster.” His big doe-like eyes widened into mock horror.

Restraining myself while my smile was very mischievous, I jumped onto him while making sure not to injure or hurt him.

“Roar!” I hollered, spilling kisses on his neck. Jeremy’s’ protests were not heeded but resulted in more tickling all over his little body.

Our game continued until a merry voice interrupted: “Well, this is a nice change.”

“Oh, hello Nurse Camille,” I replied to the smartly in scrubs dressed young woman.

“Nice to see you too.”

My smile faltered as I saw her hands holding a tray full of bottles which had stickers. Written on them were bold black letters; Added Medications .

I concealed my shudder deep within me so I wouldn’t discourage Jeremy.

“Time for your dose of liquid special, young man.” The nurse smiled kindly at my brother, but I saw that underneath the kindness laid sympathy and pity in her eyes.

It always made me admire how emotionally stable nurses were in front of the sick people. Taking care of patients who had diseases, let alone ill children was not a piece of cake.

It requires a special kind of courage and character to be a Paediatric Nurse.

“Again?” Whined Jeremy. “They make me sick and sleepy Nurse Camille, I don’t want them.”

“Jeremy, what did we promise the doctor?” Scolding my brother gently yet with a voice that was still firm, I gazed into my brothers’ eyes.

“To be a strong boy and listen to the nurses and doctors,” Jeremy mumbled with pouted cheeks trying to avoid my eyes.

“Because?” I prompted.

“In the end, they will make me get better.” Finishing his sentence reluctantly, Jeremy recited the words that we say every time the therapy takes its’ toll on him.

Jeremy, however, quickly continued. “But until now Dess, they had helped me as much as constipation helps an elephant.”

I gawked at my brother in disbelief, as Nurse Camille laughed. “Do you even know what that word means, Jeremy?”

He conspiratorially looked at the nurse, who was still grinning while hanging the saline bottles and pressing buttons on the I.V. pump.

Jeremy puffed his chest out very proudly “That means that you can’t poop.”

I laughed at his proud face, wanting to ruffle his hair, but I stopped my hand mid-air. It was a knee-jerk reaction which was still present from the days when Jeremy even got a head full of hair.

“That is right.” Said the nurse, as she hooked I.V. to the Jeremys’ peripheral I.V. catheter. “We will make a Nurse out of you yet.” She started the pump and with a calm and kind smile, left the room.

“Where is Daryl?” I asked Jeremy, which I immediately regretted.

His face fell, and I wanted to slap myself into the next week for asking. Daryl was Jeremys’, until recently, hospital roommate. The boy was only two years older than my seven-year-old brother.

However, they were inseparable these last three months.

“He left, went home.” Jeremy’s’ quiet voice barely made a sound.

“Oh, sweetie,” I held him close, hoping to cheer him up. “Did you get his phone number?”

“Yeah.” His face instantly lightened. “We already played angry birds and race cars.

“He said he would visit me when he had therapy or an appointment.” Jeremy gushed and talked on and on about which games he played with his friend.

I hoped that the kid would keep to his promise; it would break Jeremys’ heart if he didn’t.

After that, we played first with toy cars then Jenga; however, I saw that Jeremy was getting pale and even more tired as time passed.

As I heard the Nurses distributing children’s dinner around the rooms, I decided it was time. “Well this has been fun, now it is time for bed.”

“Already? But you just came.”

Smiling, I shooed him to his bed and tucked him in, as our mother did. “You need to eat your dinner and then rest.”

“I am not hungry at all,” Jeremy grumbled, making a face of disgust.

“Eat as much as you can, or you will never be as tall as me.” I joked, easing the tension and rebellion that my little brother displayed.

“You are too tall for a girl.”

I huffed. “Then you better grow as much as you can, so you won’t be such a pipsqueak.”

Sitting beside him with a book, I decided that the conversation about our hight differences was over even though loud protests were coming from my brother that he was not a pipsqueak or anything of the sort.

“Where were we?” I asked him when I opened one of the Harry Potter books.

“Harry, Ron and Hermione went to a Death party.” Said Jeremy happily.

I read as he ate his dinner, appropriately reacting at the critical moments in the story.

When he finished, Jeremy pushed his tray away and laid on the side with hands under his cheeks, listening to the story until his eyes started to droop.

After a chapter or two, I marked where I left off and closed the book even though Jeremy protested sleepily.

I kissed him goodnight, grabbed the dinner tray, clicked off the lights and left the hospital room.

On the corridor, Nurses were patrolling, checking in on the children and their parents. As I delivered the tray, one of them tiredly smiled, grateful at my gesture.

I read on the glass;

Haematology paediatric department as I pushed the big swinging door: visiting hours from 15:00 till 20:00.

I was visiting Jeremy here for almost six months now. Being diagnosed with Leukaemia in the Second Stage gave him a quick and rushed hospitalisation.

Even though I was supportive and hopeful the treatment would work, I had at times a dark premonition which loomed at the back of my mind.

Juggling two part-time waitressing jobs and an occasional job at my late mothers’ office on the side, it still wasn’t enough to even get close to covering Jeremy’s’ hospital bills.

Somehow I managed to keep my head above the water even in the toughest of times.

The ringing on my ancient flip phone stirred me from my gloomy thoughts. The phone was older than Jeremy; however, I will keep it till it willed to work.

Another smartphone would cost me too much, and I rather use the money for something urgent. Jeremy had his so that he could stay in touch with his friends and play games to keep his spirits up.

When I looked at the I.D. of the caller, I sighed.

“Hello Monique, miss me already?” I answered on the third ring, almost 99.9% certain why she was calling me.

“Tell me you can come and rescue me,” The pleading, almost crying voice of my boss was a little too loud for my ears. “Jenna called and cancelled on me again, and you are mine and dinners only hope.”

Is she screaming into the speaker?

“Only hope? That sounds serious. Since you need me that much, are you willing to give me all the tips for the evening?” I said with a laugh, hoping that the answer would be in my favour.

“Tips, free fries, even my kidney, just get here, please?”

“Be there in fifteen,” I laughed and could help but remark “And keep the kidney on the ice for me.”

There goes my free evening. Desperate times and all that shit was making me move on with a smile, knowing I will pay the electric bill for this month with tonight’s tips, hopefully.


Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!


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