Also, I copy-pasted from LaTeX, where I'm writing, so if there are any formatting errors, let me know so I can fix those with extreme prejudice.
What I need help with:
1) Grammar, spelling, and mechanical errors. If, for some reason, I slip up and use "vampyre" or something silly like that, let me know. And feel free to scoff; I really should know better by now.
2) Any better names for the race of this Mysterious Female Protagonist (tm)? I kinda stole "Old Ones" from Lovecraft (I think), and it makes MFP seem decrepit, which she is not.
3) Is there any way to write romance without getting embarrassed? Seriously? I've been hitting my head against the wall because every time I try, it seems like it's from one of Those Books. You know, the ones with the steamy guy and the flimsy girl on the cover? The...(gasp) Trashy Paperback Romance Novels?
If you can answer any of the above questions, I'd be very very grateful. And make you a cookie, although delivery might be a problem.
Now, without further ado...
Forget Me Not
Prologue
Prologue
It was cold, and wet, and foggy, and she hated it.
It wasn't enough for her to be unceremoniously dumped in this room, with a window overlooking the Arena. No, that she could bear. But the weather on top of that? Too much to handle.
To top it all off, she was about to become some sort of prize. An object to be paraded around by whomever had the largest muscles and wanted to claim her. And then, at best, she would be drained.
At worst, she would live on, forced to obey her so-called "master."
She paced back to the window, shivering lightly. The only covering she was allowed was her blanket, and that smelled like blood, so she avoided it as much as she could. It was tempting to just throw it out the window, but she didn't want to be completely uncovered when her captor decided to parade her around.
She had known that she would not last long on her own. An Old One like herself was powerful, yes, but all the others had been hunted to near-extinction. She had known that she would soon follow.
Her blood was thick, thicker than any human's, and it called to the Vampires like no other. It was a wonder the one who had caught her had taken her to the King in one piece.
Then again, the Vampire King had quite a lot of power over his kin. Although a dictator, he was a dictator of the finest sort: one who was strong, and protected his own, one who inspired fierce and unquestionable loyalty. Absolute power had, as far as she could tell, not corrupted absolutely, though he did find fear an effective weapon. Those who failed him failed their brethren, and his punishments were without mercy or remorse.
A deep horn sounded, and she strained her ears. If these brutes were to fight over her, she at least wanted to hear them scream.

