AN: I'm so glad everyone seems to be enjoying the story. Here's another chapter. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Chapter 4

The night progressed as the thousand before it had. Loud music played, people rubbed themselves against one another, and pheromones filled the air to the point of suffocation. Eric enjoyed it, normally, but he was slowly becoming bored. With his elbow propped on the arm of his throne, Eric ran his index finger lazily across his icy cold lips.

As his eyes drifted around the scene before him, they landed on the mirrored wall behind the bar. It's angle was a little off, but still allowed him to see the young woman behind him. She'd been unmoving since taking her stance like an obedient little servant. He wondered briefly how true the statement was before another thought, a beautifully constructed and sure to bring him enjoyment sort of thought, entered his mind. With a smirk, he turned his head to the side.

To his surprise, she seemed to know what it meant without him bothering to verbalize. Such a curious little creature.

Silently, she took a stance in front of him, her distant but seeing eyes on him.

"You're going to dance for me."

Her gaze suddenly found laser focus on him, sharp and mad. "What?" she asked with a tight jaw.

Eric leaned into his hand. Running his finger across his upturned lips, he repeated, "You're going to change into something else, and dance for me. Right there." He pointed at the stage and pole not ten yards in front of him and behind her.

She turned to see it and when her gaze returned to his, he saw it again, that vicious and murderous rage. While her exterior remained stoic, and her heart calm, there was no denying that hatred. It stirred things inside him, made his stomach twist with joy and anticipation. He loved her loathing and could drink it as easily as her blood.

When she spoke, her voice was measured, but tense, as though she was attempting to keep the raging beast inside. "I am not a simpering whore who's going to strip for you."

Eric moved quickly, lunging for her before she could blink. His cold, steely hand nearly encompassed her neck when he grabbed it. He held her firmly just beneath her jaw, forcing her head up and back so she could meet his eye. Her heart finally began to beat just an iota faster than before, but still he sensed no fear. There was nothing beyond her sweltering skin and her pulse charging beneath his grasp.

He lowered his face until it was mere inches from hers. The open-aired smell of her skin that he'd caught mere whiffs of before was much stronger now that it was no longer obstructed by dirt, so much sweeter.

"You will do as I say." He told her in a quiet, commanding voice. "I own you. For the next four years, you are mine. Now, go!"

Eric launched her back, throwing her away from him. He didn't toss her hard, but just enough. He'd seen her grace before, her speed and agility, and he wanted to see it again. She did not disappoint.

Like a gymnast or acrobat, she twisted her slender body in midair. As she came down, her fingertips grazed a table. He saw her push herself back just hard enough she could clear the obstruction and landed just beyond it. She stayed there, low to the ground for only a moment before bringing herself to her full height again. He swore her eyes had turned to green flames, the way they glowed and her hatred danced within them. What he'd done to her gave them life.

For a few seconds, she was a statue vibrating with desire to act. Eric could taste it. But she did nothing. She said nothing.

Eventually, she turned on her heel and left, walking through a wide berth of patrons before disappearing through the door. Eric shot Pam a glance. She was grinning from her place behind the bar, and knew what he wanted. With the grace she was known for, the towering blonde in six-inch heels glided into the back.

Eric regained his seat and everyone else returned to what they were doing as though nothing had happened.

About thirty minutes later, Pam emerged from the back with a smirk even more wicked than before. Eric arched a curious brow. She seemed proud. A moment later, he saw why.

The girl soon appeared wearing something rather delicious. It was a dress he knew Pam owned, but hadn't seen her wear in nearly a year. The black sequin caught the light and glittered like the scales of a snake. It was a halter-top of Grecian inspiration. The front was gathered fabric left the fall in constructed folds, folds that dipped perhaps ten inches lower than on a normal dress. It was the sort of thing that had to be taped into place to keep anything from popping out.

He knew the back was nonexistent as well, designed so those behind her could see her shoulder blades and the curve of the spine, ending perhaps an inch above her tailbone. The only part of the dress that was tight was the six or so inches of fabric that wrapped around the wearer's hips and backside, though it ended just after.

A steely silver spike kept her hair up and off her neck, and her eyes were swept in black. The deep color made the green glow with life like before, though that could have also been her emotions towards Eric at that moment.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Pam had outdone herself, he thought. The girl looked delicious, like a scrumptious treat that needed to be devoured. Eric felt his slacks grow ever-so-slightly tighter than before in his excitement. Part of him almost didn't want to waste her on the pole, instead content to scoop her up and take her into the back, but he didn't. He told her to dance, so she was going to dance.

Her eyes hadn't left his once, defiantly locked to his gaze as she crossed the room and stepped up onto the stage. Her delicate hand wrapped around the pole as she took her place and waited. The violent need he saw in her was just as intoxicating as the outfit.

The music suddenly cut out halfway through the current song and shifted to something else. Immediately Eric knew it was Pam's choice. Playing the song Porn Star Dancing was simply her little jab at the situation and it made him smile.

As the song began, the girl from the box raised her arm delicately above her head. She gently tugged the spike from her hair, letting it fall in long, flowing waves down to her waist. He expected her to toss it aside, but instead, she launched it in his direction. The dangerous spike came to an abrupt halt in his chair, imbedded deeply in the wooden armrest between his splayed fingers. Eric eyed it briefly before turning his gaze on her again. She wanted him to see how dangerous she could be, and he did, he just doubted it struck the level of fear in him that she wanted.

When she began to move, to roll her hips and sway to the song, Eric noticed something disturbing. Slowly but surely, the light faded from her eyes. They became distant, cold, and empty. His brows knitted together.

The song continued to play and she continued to dance in the most seductive and skilled ways. It was clear she had perfect control over her body and knew how to use it in ways that made women jealous and men harder than stone, but it was shallow. She'd become a hollow shell, the body remaining behind while all the life within it skittered away to some far off place

Finally, after the allotted time, the song ended. She went still like before, standing on the platform motionless. The life returned to her eyes along with her hatred. They sparkled again and he preferred it, even if the sparkle was because she wanted to kill him. But she wouldn't. Within the torrent of emotions that coursed through her, Eric saw the restraint, too. He saw how she held herself back, how she bit her tongue, and all for the sake of their bargain. He'd never say it out loud, but he respected her for it. Few people would so willingly hand themselves over to someone they knew would likely torture and humiliate them, even if they benefitted in the end.

Eric gave her the slightest of nods in approval. She leapt down from the platform and began her trek back to the dais, walking through the crowd to rejoin him when someone did something so foolish, they should have known better. Some cocky vampire who'd joined the party later than the rest reared back and landed his palm flat against her backside. Before the sound of the slap ended, Eric had the vampire pinned to a table by his throat, his fangs barred as he hissed.

"Get. Out." He said angrily. Eric rose, still holding the vampire by the throat, and threw him through the air. After he hit the ground, he rebounded quickly and scurried away.

Grinning, Eric turned once more to the girl from the box. "You see? I'm not such a bad guy. You're under my protection, too."

"I don't need protection." She spat angrily.

He watched as she spun on her heel and returned to her spot on the dais behind his throne. Her eyes didn't flicker back to him, and instead found some random place on the distant wall to focus on.

But something was different now. Despite the makeup and how faint they were, Eric saw bags forming beneath the girl's eyes. It was only then that Eric realized she'd been awake for a very long time. Unless she took a nap during the day, and given what she had to do he doubted it, then the girl had been awake for at least twenty-four hours. Anthony brought her to Fangtasia around two o'clock the previous morning. Plausibly, she'd been awake that whole night. It was currently one in the morning a day later.

"Go," Eric said with a sigh as he regained his seat.

"Where?"

"To sleep." He replied without bothering to look at her as he spoke.

"I have nowhere to sleep." She told him shortly. "And I'm not going back in that damn box."

Eric sighed at her impertinence. "7843 North Parish Avenue." he told her simply in a stern voice he knew she wouldn't dispute. "Something tells me you won't have trouble getting in."

She said nothing as she walked away, slinking back through the crowd to disappear. A moment later, she emerged in her own clothing and with a folded piece of paper in hand, likely the directions. She didn't even bother looking at him as she left.

The sun was nearing its awakening for the day and Fangtasia was closed. Saying his farewell to Pam, Eric headed to his home, the place he knew the young woman was sleeping. He ran there, not bothering to take a car when he lived so close.

Within moments he stood before his house, quaint in appearance and to anyone who cared to look, it was nothing more than some fifties-styled ranch that a family of however-many-brats and their parents would likely live in. It didn't stand out, and he liked it that way. Though, the inside was a different story.

Opening the door he was greeted with the familiar and the calming. Tapestries and paintings of his former gods, and other pieces his people's work hung in various places and despite the antiques from his youth and homeland, it was incredibly modern. Dark paint touched the walls, and thick, light-blocking curtains hung on the windows he didn't have furniture in front of. Tossing his keys onto the long table in his foyer, Eric walked into the hallway and towards his bedroom, removing his leather jacket as he went.

Nothing looked disturbed and he found himself wondering if she'd come into the home at all before hearing the faint thump of a heartbeat. He cocked a brow, moving to a cracked door and peeking into his guest room. There, in the center of a lavish bed, was the bump he knew as his captive. She was on her back, sprawled over the mattress as he approached her side. She seemed dead to the world, her fair skin and dark hair adding to the lifeless appearance. Her black hair was adorning the lily white pillows beneath her head like some kind of dark halo, her clothes one of his shirts. He couldn't help but grin at the fact that she had stolen something to sleep in, though he expected little else.

Turning, Eric went to his own room, the next one over, and finished removing his clothes. He liked sleeping in a bed when the chance was offered, preferring it to a coffin or the ground because he liked to spread out. He wasn't stupid though, putting an old armoire in front of the only window. It was a large, almost wall-width window that had more than a few thick curtains adorning it and his large piece of furniture was placed in the center where the fabric was the thinnest.

He finished undressing and pulled back the curtains that hung around his four-poster, canopy bed and crawled within. He made sure they were closed as well before slipping off into his sleep, nestled deeply within the overstuffed mattress.

The Viking vampire roused at some point and had the distinct feeling the sun was still out, a theory that was confirmed when he caught a glimpse of his clock. He growled at waking in the middle of the day, but his mind soon drifted to the young woman in the other room. He was hungry.

Eric stood and left his bedroom. Immediately he could tell something was open. There was the distinct scent of fresh air. Moving quickly, Eric checked the room to find her gone and went to search the rest of the house. He need only reach the end of the hall.

The living room was filled with sunlight. He froze, staring daggers at the door shaped-white light that stretched across the floor. He shifted just enough to peer around the corner of the hallway. Sitting in the threshold was the girl from the box bathing in sunlight.

"Is there a reason my door is open?"

She turned her head to the side but only slightly. He leaned his back against the hallway wall so he could see her but avoid the shining outline of his door.

"You need some fresh air in your home." she said finally. "I wasn't expecting you up this early, otherwise I would have warned you."

"And you're wearing my shirt."

"And I broke into your house. And I left the premises without your permission." she countered sarcastically. "You're not my father, only my employer. Try to remember that."

He chuckled at her eagerness to remain as professional in their agreement as she could. Their agreement being she could slaughter nine vampires with the understanding that she would be his slave for an allotted amount of time.

"You had no food so I went down the street to get some coffee and something to eat." she finally said in a calmer voice.

"What did you use for money?"

"Believe it or not, I have my own. I did have a life before Anthony got his greedy little paws on me."

He wasn't sure why, but he hadn't thought about it. As far as he knew, or cared to know, she was always in the box she had arrived in.

"You need to go back to bed."

"And why is that?" he asked coldly. He didn't like the commanding tone her simple words held.

"You're bleeding."

She was right. From the moment he woke, Eric had felt the blood slowly but surely gathering in his ears. By the time she mentioned it, crimson had already trailed down the sides of his neck and to his shoulders. It was beginning to trickle out of his nose, as well, but he refused to show that it mattered.

"It's nothing." he replied before something curious crossed his mind. "How did you know that?"

She sighed and stood, heaving herself up and dusting her body off as she gripped her coffee cup and then walked inside. She glanced down to see the large man's hiding place and closed the door, once again engulfing the home in darkness. Eric all but sprang to life the second the door was shut, racing forward close enough to feel the heat from the sun radiating off her skin.

As before, she met his stare emotionlessly, but he heard a shift, smelled it. She was excited, just a little, but it was there. Evidently, she liked the way he looked without a shirt.

"I can smell it." she answered in a soft voice, finally able to drag her gaze away from his. "Come. You need to be cleaned off."

He watched with narrowed eyes as she walked toward the back of the house. Impossible.

"You can smell it?" he asked curiously while he followed her into the kitchen.

He wasn't focused on what she was doing. Eric found himself more concerned and fascinated by what she said, so he barely noticed that she'd set her coffee cup on the counter and wet a washcloth beneath the tap. She approached him when it was sufficiently damp.

"Yes, I can smell it." she muttered, looking at the long trail of blood on either side of his chest and freezing for a moment. Her hand hesitated and Eric felt his pride grow at the look in her eyes when she saw him standing bare from the hips up.

"See something you like?"

She looked up and met his eyes, her cheeks flushing despite her face remaining unchanged. She scowled slightly. Without a word, she wrapped the rag around her bare hand so she wouldn't touch him, and began to wipe the blood free. He stood there, towering over the young woman that came to his shoulder. He tilted his head to the side and watched as she gingerly wiped his skin, clearly trying to focus on the blood and not what she was wiping it from. But something still lingered in his mind. She can smell blood.

"What are you?"

Her eyes twitched up to his for a moment before she went to the sink and rinsed the rag. After wringing out the excess water, she returned.

"Sit."

He did. The only reason he did was that he loved having women tend to him.

"I asked you a question."

"Nothing special." she answered as she glided the cloth up his chest and to his shoulders.

Eric grabbed her wrist sharply, forcing her to look at him but, yet again, she wasn't scared. Blank eyes stared back. And then he said something he hadn't previously thought of, something that left his lips before it even entered his mind.

"You're not human."

Her head tilted gently to the side. The weight of her hair dragged across her neck as it fell to gravity. She blinked once before saying something he didn't expect.

"I was unaware I had to be."

Eric felt a jolt race through him.

"What are you?" he demanded this time.

Eric knew she could hear the warning in his voice. Even though they'd spent only a single night together, he could tell she was intelligent. Such a trait was hard to disguise, so he was certain she knew something bad would happen if she didn't tell him the truth.

"I'm a were."

"A were, what?" He asked tightly. "Because it's not a wolf."

"No, I'm not a werewolf."

He ground his teeth. Eric's patience with her was growing thinner by the moment. For a woman who'd been nothing but upfront and honest, her coy behavior was more than a little irritating. But then, suddenly, it donned on him.

"You're a werecat." He said. Her pendant was feline. It made sense.

"Yes," she replied.

"And you didn't find this relevant to share?"

"Don't pretend to care what I am, Viking. The only reason you ask is to assess if I'm a threat or not. Nothing more."

"You seem sure of that."

"And you're not denying it."

He twitched a smile.

"How heightened are your senses?" he asked, his mind already thinking of how he could use her further.

"As compared to what?"

"Humans."

She snorted a laugh as she returned to the sink to clean the rag once more.

"Exponentially better than humans."

"Vampires."

"I don't know." She told him. "I've never tested it against a vampire. There was never any need." She finished cleaning him off shortly after and took a step back. "I'm going to take a shower. You should go to bed and rest before you start bleeding again."

Eric watched her leave. A moment later, he heard running water in the guest bathroom. She was lying. She wasn't a werecat. She didn't smell like one and she didn't taste like one, either. In fact, there was nothing animalistic about her beyond her physicality.

With long, smooth steps, Eric returned to his bedroom with the intention of sleeping for the rest of the day. He eyed the bathroom door as he passed it. The Girl in the Box bothered him, and he couldn't pinpoint why. He wanted to glamour her, truthfully. At least then she couldn't lie. But at the same time, he didn't want to put forth the effort. Did it really matter what she was? He was stronger, faster, and older, and her blood was delicious.

He would be forever skeptical, though. For as long as she was in his "employment", Eric would keep a closer eye on her than he'd initially planned because she was something other than human. That part he believed.