It was almost dawn by the time Eztli returned home with Angela in his arms. Swinging the heavy door shut behind them, he set her down carefully, smiling at the way she swayed on her feet.
"It's OK, little fräulein, you can lean on me if you need to," he told her, standing beside her patiently. Angela wanted to collapse against him, because her legs were like jell-o following the long, hard fucking he gave her. In spite of this, and the great weariness sweeping over her, she kept some distance between them, the better to stare at him while replying, boldly,
"Don't look so smug, Eztli. Just because I let you seduce me yet again... it doesn't mean I've forgiven you for what you did."
The temperature around her dipped several degrees, when she said that, and she saw his pale eyes flashing as he shot back,
"I don't recall asking for forgiveness."
Having stunned her into silence, he turned and strolled away across the huge atrium, without a backward glance.
Left to her own devices, Angela paused to kick off her high heels, then followed behind him, albeit at a much slower pace. She caught up to him before the tall column full of books that graced the center of the space, where he had stopped, apparently to fetch a favorite story to read. On seeing him standing there, leafing through the pages with not a care in the world, she launched into an attack without preamble,
"I guess I was right to think of you as the devil incarnate. Only the devil, himself, could refuse to seek forgiveness for such a heinous crime."
He raised a finely shaped eyebrow at her, before returning his attention to the book he was holding - elaborately embossed on the front, it looked both old and valuable, but it failed to capture Angela's interest at that moment.
"Don't ignore me, God dammit!" she cried, in a voice trembling with emotion. "Look me in the eye and admit that what you did was wrong!"
Eztli sighed. Setting his book down slowly, he turned toward her and frowned. A second later, his wall of energy hit her, propelling her backwards, until her legs struck one of the huge leather armchairs strewn across the area.
"Sit, fräulein," he snapped, advancing at her faster than she could blink. With her heart in her throat, Angela sat then sank down low, while he leaned over her threateningly.
"If I truly were the devil incarnate," he growled, "I'd throw you into a furnace and let you roast alive, for a few centuries. Then, maybe, you'd learn to keep your mouth shut instead of letting your emotions run away with you."
The menacing tone, and the threat it conveyed, made her tremble, preventing her from saying anything in reply. Inside her mind, the word 'sorry' surfaced briefly, only for Eztli to shoot it down before she could speak it,
"Don't bother apologizing, Angela. I've already added your latest insult to your tally and will punish you for it later."
She felt a flash of anger at that, thinking how ludicrous it was for him to be making such threats. Out of the two of them, he was the truly guilty one, surely! No sooner did she think this, than his hand was in her hair and tugging on it, viciously.
"Your thoughts will be the death of you, my dear," he said, while she mewled in sudden fear. He adjusted his grip to ensure she could not pull away, then continued, "The more you see yourself as a victim, the greater the chances of you becoming one. Especially if you cross the line from friend to foe, with me. So, tell me now, before I waste any more time on you. What will it be?"
Speaking was difficult with her head pulled back painfully and her mind reeling, but her sense of self-preservation made her squeeze out an answer without delay,
"Friend... I'm your friend... Please, don't kill me... Please, master..."
She did not know why she added that last bit, calling him 'master' though he did not ask her to - indeed, he had told her he would never ask it of her, but it came out anyway. Unsure of how he would respond, she fell silent and tried to still the desperate shaking of her limbs. Against her bare back, the leather of the armchair was smooth and cold like her skin and stuck to her when she moved - in other words, every few seconds.
Eztli watched her squirm for a while, before leaning in and staring her in the eye.
"
Amicus non hostis
, I believe," he said. "But 'master'? I'm not so sure. Why did you call me that, meine fräulein? You know I don't care for it."
"Yes, I know," she replied - with some effort, because he still had not let go of her, keeping her head tilted back and her throat exposed. "Honestly? I don't... know why... I said it. I'm so... sorry if I upset you."
Her heart leapt when she saw his sensuous lips curve into a smile, but her relief was short-lived, because in the very next moment he was chuckling evilly into her ear,
"I'm not upset, my dear. And I really don't care why you said it... It has no effect on me, either way. I am, however, delighted to see how much it turns you on to submit to me."
Angela felt herself starting to blush. Desperate to save face, she stammered,
"N-no... I'm not turned on... I'm just... scared."
"Liar," he hissed - and then, he bit her. She felt his teeth sink deep into the side of her neck, and she let out a whimper of pure terror, convinced he was going to drain every last drop of her blood. But after taking only a few mouthfuls - enough to stun her - he pulled back and sealed the wound shut. As she slumped over in her chair, he waved a hand and caused his book to float over to him.
"Now, then, fräulein," he said, conversationally. "Pay attention. I'm about to give you a history lesson, the first one of many that I'll be giving you from now on. I have no doubt it will shock you, since most of it is not taught at any modern schools. You'll probably want to ask me some questions, too, but I must ask you to save them till the end. Deal?"