*****I wrote this a long time ago and I don't like it. In fact, I find it repulsive. I'm only keeping it here because it was part of my journey, if you will, to write something good.*****
A sweet sense of victory rushed through Isabel. It was over; they won. Now she could kill him. But... was that she wanted?
No, she decided. It would be a shame for this world to permanently lose a mind as cunning, charismatic and ruthless as his. That was why, as Ranqueo turned around with a murderous glare in his eye, she sheathed her swords and closed her eyes.
She sensed him tensing up, ready for whatever trick she might pull next. When she did nothing, he approached cautiously.
His anger gradually turned into confusion, followed by amusement, then lustful excitement.
Isabel shivered. His excitement was so close to bloodlust that she began questioning if this was a good idea.
He caught her discomfort and a smile crept onto his lips.
"You are something, aren't you?" He said and there was a rush of wind as he closed the gap between them. He whispered in her ear. "I suppose it would be pointless and extremely rude if I attempted to take your life after you spared mine. What then, shall I do --" and he moved behind her to the other ear "-- with you?"
She felt his breath on her neck and her skin tingled as his fangs brushed over it.
The silence broke at the soft sound of a blade being unsheathed as his fangs retreated.
"These... are high quality daggers. The highest, I'd say." He traced the dagger slowly up her wrist and rested it on her collarbone. "You must have made them yourself?"
She said nothing, delightfully aware of the cold steel against her neck.
His lips touched her ear as he spoke in a low, drawn out tone. "Answer me."
"Yes, master, they are my work."
He chuckled softly. He knew what she was doing, yet it would always be a surprise to be called "master" by someone far greater than yourself. That was why he couldn't help but be in awe of the woman before him who, in his eyes, truly had the power to do anything she wanted. She could afford to let him live simply because she could kill him any time she liked. If the circumstances were different, he would have served her gladly --
He inwardly shook his head to free himself of such thoughts and chided himself. 'Reverence is not she wants, she craves a predator that likes to play with his food, and I cannot be the predator if my head is full of awe and respect for the prey.'
