Her blood was among the sweetest he d smelled. Pure, untainted - his master, a woman of iron resolve, smelled so like a delicate virgin. Occasionally he forgot her innocence. She was wise beyond her years, and her beauty was a hard, elegant sort; nothing like the tawdry, eye-catching looks favored by most young women her age. She exuded power - like the blood flowing through her veins, the power of her position, her entitlement rushed throughout her body, like the queens of old, far before her time.

As she spoke, her voice cold and uncaring, he found himself listening to her heartbeat and letting her words wash away. So strong...his mind drifted, focusing simply on the beat, the proof that she, unlike him, was still a creature of the light. As she spoke, his hands twitched, and unbidden, his mind flashed with thoughts of those hands on her waist. Drawing her close, seeing her eyes cloud with fear and desire - perhaps she would tremble as he unbuttoned her shirt. Slowly, carefully, never rushed and never too rough; she was a fragile creature, under the iron facade. Would she urge him on? Or remain stoic, offering him only smug silence as he peeled her shirt from her shoulders? He kept his face neutral, nodding his head as she spoke, while his mind laid her bare before him.

She would not be one to bother with complicated undergarments - a practical woman in all fields of life, he truly doubted she hid her perversions under the dignified suits she was so attached to. No, hiding her heart from him would be a simple bra - perhaps white. Her skin, ever so pale, would be soft to the touch, especially to his hands. Perhaps by now she would grant him the softest of moans as he nibbed softly at the bare skin around her neck, careful not to break the skin. He d pause at her throat, press his lips against the vein...he wanted to taste her, her blood and her soul. Maybe she would hesitate then, draw away, sensing the creature he was trying to contain, but he wouldn t have it. He could feel himself grinning as he imagined his hands guiding her away from her instincts, into his arms, her warm body trembling against his. He wanted her, not as the master to his servant, but as his equal. Her body, her mind...he wanted to possess them. Her. His hands twitched once again, and in the monster s mind, his master whimpered, reluctant to give in to his touch as he carefully removed her bra and caressed her bare skin with his gloved hand. He brought his mouth close, as if to drink from her, but extended his tongue instead, exploring the curves and imperfections of her shuddering skin, finally coming to rest over her heart. He closed his eyes, letting the music of the blood flow infect his mind, and the scent of her skin assault his senses. Perhaps she would run a hand through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp as he held her, lips on her heart.

Alucard. Her voice was a throaty whisper, almost as musical as her virgin blood. Almost.

His eyes opened as her voice finally faded away. His hand had stopped trembling and the beautiful, vulnerable creature he had envisioned was gone, replaced by his master, the deliciously apathetic Sir Integra Hellsing. He acknowledged her words, although he had heard little of what was said, trapped in his own distortions of reality. It was fading - the feeling of want. But even as she left the room, the sound of her heartbeat stayed in his ears, and he shut his eyes, prepared for another fever dream.