The Perfect Servant

Chapter 18

AN: Hey guys! Shorter chapter this time, but I have good news! The next chapter is already written and ready to go, so I'll have it up next week! Hopefully I can follow this schedule of getting out a chapter every week again, but I can't make any promises. Anyways, please let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments! Much love! <3

...

Aravos didn't force me back into the mine. We didn't travel down the tunnels, down into further torment, where my heart would shatter and my mind would break. We just got into the car, and left.

We drove, and drove, and drove. We didn't speak a word to each other. Something had shifted in our relationship, something strange and foreign. We were still master and servant, I wouldn't ever allow myself to forget that, but a part of me felt less like porcelain and more like obsidian. Still breakable, but with naturally sharp edges that could cut when handled improperly.

"Give me your wrist," Aravos told me, when we'd stopped for a break just before dawn. I didn't look at him, just held my wrist out for him to take. He gripped my forearm, much gentler than he had back at the mine, and raised my arm to his mouth. I felt him hover, felt the whisper of his bottom lip against my warm skin, and then the vaguely familiar pinch as his fangs dug into the artery beneath my skin.

It hardly hurt, a small prickling of pain, and then the strange feeling of blood being pulled out of the puncture wounds. I barely felt it, but I could have. It could have been extremely painful. It could have been so terrible that I would have screamed in agony. He'd never done that though, made it torturous. I wouldn't ever call getting bit gentle, but I could tell from the ease of his approach that he wasn't trying to hurt me.

How strange he was. He ordered me around, punished me when I disobeyed, threatened me, and he gave me no choice when he drank from me, but he cared about not harming me, about being as gentle as possible.

Perhaps this is what Stockholm syndrome felt like. Knowing someone has the power to do terrible things to you, and they do, but they also show you mercy as well. How confusing it is, to not know what is up or down, whether to expect pain or compassion. I imagine for some people it's easier, more comforting, to believe in the best, to hope for it, to look at your villain through kinder lenses.

Aravos pulled away after less than a minute, giving the fresh puncture wounds a small lick to help them clot. He dropped my arm, and I pulled it back to rest at my side.

Did Aravos want to endear himself to me? Did he want to manipulate me into excusing his terrible behaviors because of the few kind gestures he offered? Is it all-visiting the mine and commanding me and biting me so gently-a plot to get me on his side? Did he know I wasn't truly his to control?

"What do you want from me?" The words escaped me long after we'd started driving again, well into the daylight hours. I hadn't mean to speak them, hadn't even really considered the words in my head, but they'd escaped me nonetheless.

I held my breath, waiting for punishment. Nothing came, except a glance in my direction.

"Getting braver now, aren't we?" He asked, quirking a brow. I stared back at him, refusing to falter.

"You wanted me to drop the mask," I replied quietly. "You can't expect me to show you the real me and simper too." He chuckled lowly, nodding his acquiescence.

"Fair enough," He admitted, returning his gaze to the road. We were getting close to the manor now. It would be light out still when we arrived. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd wait in the car until dusk, or if he'd just walk out into the light without a problem. "I want you to be my weapon," He answered my previous question, surprising me. "I told you I don't like what I am, and I meant it. Vampires are a disgrace. Immortality shouldn't be used to remain lazy and complacent and greedy. I had hoped..." He trailed off, frowning as he shook his head slightly.