Alexander entered his room, eyes narrowing at the petite girl curled up at the foot of his bed. She was fast asleep, wrapped in the crimson robe reserved for special occasions—the one that had been tucked away in his glass closet. Her legs were folded neatly beneath her, and her head rested back against the mattress. Stray bangs clung to her forehead, a clear sign that she had just taken a bath.
She smelt like him too.
His crimson gaze slowly roamed over her, pausing when he noticed something unfamiliar just beneath her collarbone. He moved closer and squatted in front of her, carefully pulling the robe aside to get a better look. His eyes narrowed.
It looked like a tattoo—a yin-yang symbol, but instead of black and white, it was red and white. Vivid and unmistakable.
He already knew something was off about Artemis.
Artemis had barely drifted off to sleep after her bath when the door creaked open and shut behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, and a familiar, intoxicating scent filled the air. She froze. She could feel his eyes on her before he moved to stand directly in front of her, then bent down.
Her breath caught when she felt him touch the spot beneath her collarbone. Panic bloomed inside her. She was wearing nothing under the robe.
Her eyes flew open, only to meet his.
Alexander stared back at her, expression unreadable. Then he stood, noting the slight tremble in her shoulders.
"M-Master," she stammered, quickly rising to her feet and stepping back. "I-I didn't see any clothing, so I… I wore this robe."
He hummed in response, a low sound of amusement. His gaze raked over her. "Suits you."
Her cheeks flushed hot.
He stepped closer. She instinctively took another step back. He smirked and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"What's that mark?" he asked, tilting his head as the robe slipped off one shoulder, revealing the edge of the strange tattoo—and the top of her pale breast. His red eyes darkened.
Artemis glanced down, eyes widening. The symbol was now clearly visible. She frowned and rubbed it with her thumb.
"I don't know. I've never seen it before," she murmured.
He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to decipher a puzzle he hadn't realized existed. Then his gaze dropped to her knee.
"How's your leg?" he asked, turning and heading into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a small, silver-colored kit and knelt before her.
He reached to lift the robe, but she immediately pushed it down.
"What are you—"
"Don't test me, pet. Pull it up," he said, his voice cold and commanding.
A shiver ran through her.
Her trembling hands dropped the hem, and she lifted it just enough to expose her injured knee.
He caught a glimpse of her smooth thigh and bit the inside of his cheek before opening the kit. He applied a small bandage over the wound left by the splinter.
"Don't get used to this," he said with a smirk. "If you die from an infection, I'm the one who'll suffer the loss. Not that I care—but what a waste if you're rendered useless."
His fangs glinted. Cruel or careless—either way, she was in trouble.
Alexander stood, towering over her, then returned the kit. He walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee.
Artemis turned to face him, hands clasped behind her back, her throat tight.
"Now, Artemis," he began, eyes pinned on her. "Are you aware of what slaves do?"
She shook her head.
"I see…" he muttered, narrowing his gaze. "You're not the typical slave, are you?"
She said nothing.
"But no matter. I'll teach you your purpose."
"Purpose?" she echoed.
"That's right," he said smoothly. "Slaves—especially slave girls—have one special purpose. To please their masters."
Her face turned crimson.
What the hell?
"Your heartbeat is loud," he noted, amused. "Flustered already?"
He found it oddly endearing—how easily her face colored, how she struggled to remain composed.
"Relax, honey," he drawled. "There are many things I'd love to do to you… things we'd both enjoy." He leaned in slightly, his voice deliberate, drawing out each word so she wouldn't miss a single implication.
Then he approached her again, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. She stiffened immediately at the closeness.
Leaning down, he whispered into her already-burning ear.
"…but I prefer my meals experienced. Not a trembling little mess."
He slid his hands down her arms, and Artemis trembled harder. She was frozen—nervous and scared.
Then his fingers moved to the robe's sash, beginning to untie it.
Her breath caught. She grabbed his wrists.
He chuckled and stepped back. "Look at that," he murmured, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
He returned to the bed and laid back, arms behind his head.
"I'll give you time to adjust," he said lazily, "but that doesn't mean I won't feed from you. You're to offer your neck whenever I ask. You don't get to refuse. Understood?"
She hesitated.
His gaze sharpened. "Are you hard of hearing?"
She flinched. "Yes, I understand… Master."
Then, suddenly, her stomach growled—loudly.
Her entire face turned red.
Alexander laughed. "Sounds like you need feeding." He stood and headed for the door.
"Remember the rules. This mansion is filled with vampires. If you wander off… I won't be responsible for what happens to you."
With that, he left.
What's his problem?