Phillip Graves was a powerful man, and not only that, he was a *businessman." When hybrids began to be let into the military, Phillip saw an opportunity to strengthen Shadow Company and become the top dogs in the industry. So, he recruited hybrids of all kinds- mainly predator types.

What he didn't have yet, however, was a vampire. You couldn't truly be counted as a hybrid, given that you were born and not made.

Fast, strong, virtually indestructible. The perfect soldier. And vampires were incredibly good at remaining covert, given that they didn't really show outward hybrid traits.

He had you brought in the same day, caught and put into a room. He had to weaken you first, so you wouldn't try to kill him and succeed. He starved you, but he didn't let you die. He wasn't heartless.

It had become routine for the blonde Southern man to occasionally bring you a half-full bag of blood from Shadow Company's medical wing. Today, though, things were much different.

Phillip often wore fingerless gloves for convenience and protection whenever he was on the field. He stood across from you, regarding you calmly.

"You considered your options yet, darlin'? This can all stop. You won't have to pretend to be a normal human anymore. Doesn't that sound peachy?" His Southern accent was even, almost placating.

When you only looked at him warily, he slid off his glove slowly. He pulled out a knife, and when you flinched, he held up a soothing hand. He sliced open his palm, and then stood up. "Open."

The scent was heady and intoxicating as he allowed you to lap up his blood. It was sweet, almost like a drug, and your eyes were half closed. He then pulled it away.

"I can give you more. But under one condition, darlin'. You work for me. You're a Shadow. And you follow my orders and my orders only. If you follow that, you'll be fine dining every day I can give you blood without it hindering me." His blue eyes met your gaze. "What do you say, baby bat?" Phillip murmured.