The Master and her Blood Slave

Ginger locks cascade down the sides of the soft pillow beneath Razzle's head as his eyes open slowly. He's not sure how long he has been asleep, but it feels like an eternity since the previous night. There has never been a time where Razzle has awoken from slumber feeling groggy or sick because sleep is when his body regenerates the fastest. He can feel fresh blood pumping through his veins, nourishing his body, giving it a soft pink hue among the orange flecks of his freckles.

The man sits up in the foreign bed and arches his back, stretching it out until it creeks. He scratches his hair and looks around the room, wondering what time of day it is, where he is, and why he is here, though the previous night hinted greatly to him his purpose in this coven. His eyes wander around for his female kidnapper, the one who is apparently his master. He hopes in the pit of his stomach that he won't be fed on again... Though he knows in his mind that will be the unavoidable case.

Jenevieve strolled into the room, looking prim and proper. In her hands she held a tray full of a hearty meal. Eggs, sausage, ham, toast, and pancakes. The aroma made the room smell warm and delicious.

She set it down in front of him and then sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling at him.

"Did you have a good rest?" She asked, sounding pleasant.

His stomach growled audibly at the smell of the aroma wafting from the tray of food. He looked up at Jenevieve with a suspicious expression, one of his eyebrows raised and the other furrowed.

"As good as it can be after you've died twice in a day, thanks for asking," he says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He wonders for a moment if there are drugs in the food because he wouldn't put that against her, but he drops his guard and starts eating anyway, his brain too tired to argue with his stomach.

She laughed softly at his sarcasm. She liked a witty person. So long as he wasn't too disrespectful she would allow him to be this way.

She seemed like a completely different person then she had been the other night. She was pleasant, calm, peaceful, and had even gone out of her way to make a hot meal for him.

He had fed her so well, she figured it would only be polite to do the same.

"Is it good? Did I cook it long enough?" She asked, curious to know if she did a good job. If she didn't she wouldn't apologize, but her wonder made her inquire still the same.

He is hesitant to reply, but Razzle nods his head yes slowly before forking another piece of pancake into his mouth greedily. He doesn't make eye contact with Jenevieve as he eats because he feels some shame to be looking as if he is dependent on her food. He is obviously the kind of man who looks as though he hasn't missed a meal in his entire life.

Once he clears off his plate he leans back against the pillow and looks over at her with his cobalt eyes retaining a sort of curious expression.

"What is all of this about?" He questions, feeling entitled to.

The woman straightened the fringes of her dress as she waited for him to finish his food. When he did, she looked up, smiling again at him.

She tilted her head, a little puzzled.

"All of what?" She asked, not sure exactly what he was talking about.

"All of this food... All of this... Pleasantness? I told you I wasn't interested in sleeping with you," he questions suspiciously, trying to keep the smile off his face during the last comment. He knows he shouldn't be joking around with his lady captor, but he always finds himself putting humor into bleak situations to numb the pain of the struggle.

He'd crossed a line there. As if her being nice was just a way to seduce him. She could handle his rejection of her trying to toy with him, but he didn't need to rub it in her face.

The pleasant expression fell from her and her eyes became cold again as she glared at him.

"You fed me well so I'm returning the favor. I told you if you obeyed me I wouldn't bring you harm. You obliged to my needs last night so I thought I would treat you with some gratitude. But if you don't like that I can always go back to being strict with you. Show some respect." She said bluntly, it was evident in her tone she had not appreciated what he said.

"Don't think for a moment you're too good for me, Razzle." She spit out his name. "I told you I have no intentions of copulation. I only lay with men who are well groomed and physically attractive." She stated the last part with spite, making it clear she did not think he was those things.

His brow raises with surprise at her jabs and how defensive she is getting. This woman was obviously not for jokes, which decreased the small amount of attraction he had toward her, though it was hard to say he had any at all from the way she had been treating him. How was he supposed to treat the woman who was holding him hostage with "respect" anyway. He was starting to get angry now, how on earth would she think he would treat her like some kind of humble host when he was here against his will? She really was crazy!

"Thanks for breakfast, really it was great, but I honestly don't see why you think I'm going to treat you like a princess when I'm here against my will. Does that make any sense?" he questions, getting very fed up.

Her eyes flickered anger. She had done something very nice for him this morning, tried to treat him with kindness.

And he repaid her with insults and a forked tongue.

How dare he?

The little woman stood up, her lips pursed and her eyes scornful. They seemed to be able to seer right into the core of his soul.

"You will not treat me like a Princess." She said, her tone disturbingly soft.

"A Princess is part of a monarchy. This is no monarchy." As she said this, she drew closer to him, pulling a blade from a belt around her waist. It was a miniature hunting knife, pure silver with a handle made from the horn of an antelope.

"This is an autocracy" She said, her expression stone cold. She caressed the blade of the knife with her finger, never taking her eyes from the man before her.

The moment the polished sliver metal glints into view Razzle's eyes dart to it and his jaw clenches shut. His anger had caused him to cross the line, her line, the one line he shouldn't cross if he wanted to continue on with his face intact. Though he couldn't die, he was not in control of this situation, and no matter how hard he could fight she would win because she had the strength he did not have.

He kept quiet and still and looked up at her apologetically though there was a small glimmer of fear in his eyes. It was very small, but it was there which may have been strange to see on a man who could not die. Just because he was accustom to pain didn't mean he enjoyed large quantities of it, beyond his control. Just because his body could experience death over and over again didn't mean he could tolerate it's suffocating grasp with ease.

Jenevieve could see that he was sorry all ready, and the fear glimmering in his eyes sated her. But she wouldn't put the knife away, not yet.

"Do you understand me?" She asked, her voice still soft and controlled.

"...I understand," he says with a slight hint of nervousness about his voice. He makes sure to look up into the vampire woman's eyes as he says this, but he quickly turns his gaze back down to the knife after he finishes his sentence.

His heart beats faster in his chest, he doesn't want to feel pain right now.

Jenevieve continued to stare at him a moment longer, taking in the sincerity of his words. Once she felt satisfied, she tucked the blade back into its sheath around her waist.

"Good." She said. She was still upset that he would be so rude even after her attempts at being pleasant with him, but she had made her point in displaying the knife.

He sighs despondently and runs his hand back through his mess of curls, hoping in vain that he will gain his freedom sooner than later. Her response crushes his fantasy of getting out of this situation quickly, so he resorts to questioning her further.

"So what will my 'job description' per say be? What do you want me to do around here?" he questions, a minuscule, subconscious tone of playfulness far back within his voice.

The little vampire then went over to a small bag laying by the door. She picked it up and threw it over to him.

"Get dressed." She ordered, her tone remaining unpleasant. With that she left the room, closing the door tight behind her.

Inside the bag were his clothes, now clean and fluffy from being washed. She had even managed to get the blood stains out of them.

The bag manages to whack Razzle right in his face, which catches him off his guard so he lets out a shocked yelp. He shakes his head and looks down into the bag, seeing his clean clothes. He knows he should feel grateful for her act of kindness, or even guilty for saying those things to her, but the anger of being kidnapped is still thick in his heart.

He slips out of the bed and starts pulling the clothes onto his naked body, their soft texture inviting against his flesh. After he is dressed he makes the bed and looks around for a window or a back door, spying none that look like he could escape through. Feeling hopeless and walks toward the door... Wondering if the woman is behind it. He turns the knob slowly to open it and check.

The hallways before him are empty, she isn't anywhere in sight... But he knows that doesn't mean anything. She could still be lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to mess up. Instead of wandering out to find the door to his freedom or demise he wanders back into the bedroom, closing the door softly. He will leave when he gets the chance to and acting out of desperation could mean suffering. He walks back over to the bed and lays down on it, starting up at the ceiling that imprisons him.

She had been waiting, and when she saw him go back in the room she was pleasantly surprised.

She emerged from her hiding spot and made her way back to the room, going back inside and closing the door behind her.

"You didn't try to escape." She said. Her voice was pleased but not near as pleasant as it was earlier that morning.

"And for that I will reward you. What do you want?" She asked. There was little compassion in her voice. The last time she had tried to reward him he forgot his place, and she wanted to make certain that wouldn't happen again.

Ungrateful pig.

His eyes peered open when her voice rings through the room and he sits up on the bed.

So she was watching him. This moment made it clear to him that she enjoyed tests and now that he was "her slave" he would most likely be the subject to most of them. He would not give her the satisfaction of his failure.

"Just don't cut me," he says rather calmly. He wants to keep any emotion out of his voice so she can't read him too much, but this is one of the things he has yet to master so pieces of his relief show through his eyes and posture.

She smiled somewhat, walking towards him and sitting on the bed.

"I'll only cut you if you deserve it." She said, enunciating each word. "Does that make any sense?" She asked, using his own words against him.

That perhaps was one of the things that upset her most. He insulted her intelligence in response to her kindness. It still made her blood boil but the more she made him feel small and insignificant the better she felt about it.

He runs his hand back through his curly locks, his brow furrowing pretty hard. He detests how she speaks so condescendingly to him, how he can't even express his humor, but he keeps his mouth shut until she questions him.

"Yes," he says without emotion, looking down at the bed sheets.

"Good." She said again, her voice getting more chipper the more uncomfortable he looked. Served him right for disrespecting her earlier.

"Now," She said, making herself comfortable on the bed next to him. "Tell me how my dear... friend... found you and brought you here." She requested, looking very interested.

Razzle moves his eyes to look over at the woman as she gets comfortable, dislike toward her growing in the pit of his chest.

"I don't remember much because he beat me until I was unconscious and then dragged me here in a body bag... But I remember seeing him in Germany while I was out running errands. He followed me down the street and then when I wasn't paying attention he knocked me out with a blunt object. The next think I remember was him drinking my blood before I passed out again. Then I was here," he says this all calmly, turning his head back to look straight forward as he spoke of what he went through.

"He's a cruel kind of guy... You 'friend'."

Jenevieve listened to Razzle speak with an expression that was mostly blank. But she couldn't help but smile just as she imagined Smiley behaving that way. It was terrifying but humorous to her at the same time. She wasn't sure exactly what about imagining the tall strong man act so violently amused her, but it made her heart race.

It didn't matter anyway, because Razzle was perfectly fine.

"He's cruel to some yes." She agreed, tilting her head. Her eyes held a beguiling air of interest in them.

"I wonder how he found you." She thought out loud.

His brow turns down into a furrow as he looks over at Jenevieve, some confusion riddled behind his eyes.

"Well I wouldn't want to see him on a bad day... He kept... Laughing. Almost the whole time, especially when he was beating the life out of me," he shivers slightly as he speaks, You know the more I think about it the more I see you two in a relationship."

He leans his head back against the backboard of the bed and sighs, "I'm not sure... He probably has some kind of lunatic sixth sense or something."