If there was still blood pumping through her veins, she surely would have blushed.

A woman. She was craving a woman.

The dark chuckle in her ear reminded her that this was a lesson; and her teacher was being anything but proper.

"Ah. So you wish to taste the fairer sex, Pamela?"

He had kept her to himself for two whole nights. They hadn't left his bed. Their bed. The thought of sharing had always disgusted him. He had taken care of himself when he had left Godric, and he had always assumed that he would be most unwilling to share. But only three nights with this woman and he was ready to throw everything he owned at her. She could have asked for anything, and he would have provided it and more.

He knew they would have to travel soon enough; and she would need to learn how to control herself; how to take care of herself. He had once again dressed her in the deep red velvet, with whispered promises that he would be taking her back out of it before the night was through. His fingers had lingered on the fabric, enjoying still the contrast against her pale skin. It hadn't gone unnoticed by her; but before she could ask, he had wrapped her in a black traveling cloak, buttoning it at her throat, and whisked her out the door.

It was late enough into the night that most respectable people had retired to their home. The only ones who remained on the street were stragglers, pickpockets, women of the night. He had growled when he felt the first tendrils of fear lace their blood. He had abruptly shoved her into a darkened alley, his large frame overpowering hers as he pressed her against the brick wall.

"You're frightened. Why?"

And though he wanted to smirk at the glare she aimed at him, he kept his face impassive. She was frightened of the humans that still lurked on the street; frightened still of the night. But as she glared at the ancient Viking who had killed her, who had stolen her away, there was not a drop of fear. She refused to answer him; instead jerking her chin up. His hand wrapped easily around her throat, his thumb holding her chin in place as he repeated his question. This time, her eyes darted to the street and back; where not a single passerby seemed concerned that a man had a woman in a dark alley. His grip loosened as his eyes fell to her lips, his thumb gently pulling on the bottom one. Leaning in, his breath ran cool along her skin as his hips came within inches of hers.

"You fear nothing. You are more than them. So much more. They fear you."

This time, he did not repress the grin that spread across his face as she arched an eyebrow. He could almost see the sarcasm bubbling up.

"Close your eyes, Pamela."

She continued to glare for a second more, as if waiting for the growl that she knew would spring from his lips. Only three days old, and already defying him. He vaguely toyed with the idea of telling her that everyone else who had ever dared to was dead; human and vampire alike. But he truly doubted it would phase her. He seemed to be her own exception to the rule.

When he eyes finally snapped shut, he lowered his hands, clutching her to him by her waist. Gracefully, he spun her so that her back was to his chest, and she was facing the street. His lips brushed against her ear as his hands drifted to her shoulders.

"Inhale. You can taste the air; you can taste the night. The darkness is your playground now. These humans, they are your toys. You are above them. You have always been above them."

She stiffened in his arms, but he continued.

"Listen. You can hear their heartbeats. You can hear their blood, flowing through their veins. And it is yours to claim. You can end them if you so wish. You can play god."

He dropped his hands as she took a slow step forward, hesitant to leave the safety that she knew his arms provided.

"Now open your eyes; and find them."

It was then that her eyes had fluttered open, and landed immediately on the young woman passing by. He could tell his teasing had mortified her; panic swept through their blood, along with the hunger. It amused him to no end. The woman he had fucked in the dirt of her own grave, suddenly shy.

"Go to her," he instructed softly.

"What if I kill her?"

"Then she dies," he replied matter of fact.

Still, she did not move forward. She turned her head, pleading with him through her blue eyes. She was starving; bloodthirsty as the sound of the woman's blood pumped so close. He could just as easily grabbed the human, and brought her to his progeny. But he did not. Instead he returned her stare, his face emotionless.

She dared him. "And if I don't?"

"Then you starve."

She hid her shock well enough, but he saw the flash behind her eyes. Anger. Fear. Hunger. She could see that he wasn't going to back down. Pam whirled back around, the cloak that covered her face nearly flying off in the process. As she took the first small step forward, Eric's voice followed, low enough so that only she could hear.

"I'm right here. Right behind you. You don't have to look to see me. You just have to know."

Her feet brought her right to the wide-eyed girl, and for a long moment, all they did was stare at each other. Eric watched, silent in the shadows, as the two women seemed to appraise each other. He knew the instant that Pam's fangs sliced down, for the woman's face contorted in horror. Before she could even form her mouth into a scream, Eric had pushed Pam behind him, his eyes locked on the frightened woman's, his voice coming out like rich, golden honey.

"You're not going to yell, are you? What's the point of yelling? Nothing bad is going to happen, isn't that right?"

As the woman calmly nodded, her eyes glassing over, Eric glanced over his shoulder at Pam, motioning for her to come in front of the woman again. She shook her head, her heels all but digging into the cobblestone of the street. He shrugged, turning his attention back to the woman. Gracefully, he held out his hand to her, and she accepted it as if she was a highborn princess, and not a scullery maid who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As soon as her warm skin touched his, he heard, and felt, the jealousy course through Pam. He was momentarily distracted; she was jealous. And he quite liked the sensation. He was hers, just as much as she was his.

Studiously ignoring her, he led the enchanted woman back to the shadows. There, he pressed her back against the brick of the alley, his eyes not once sliding over to the blonde woman who was nearly trembling with anger. His own fangs descended, but the woman did not scream; instead she merely obeyed as he tilted her head, his lips whispering against her neck. Finally raising his eyes to his progeny's, he sunk his teeth into the human's neck, allowing the blood to spill around his mouth. Pam took a step closer, her hand raised as if to snatch the meal away. Releasing his hold on the woman, Eric sneered, blood glistening on his lips.

"She truly was a good choice, Pamela. Almost too good to share."

He felt the pain, the hunger, the jealousy sweep through her. And when she spoke, it was a mere whine.

"…Eric."

She had no idea how just the sound of his name on her lips threatened to undo him. He would have slaughtered the whole street so she could drink. But he had to teach; it was an unspoken vow he had made when he had made her his.

"No."

She would never know how much it killed him to say that word to her. He knew she was hungry. And he prayed she would forgive him someday. He turned away, more so that he could escape her stare rather than ignite her hunger. His lips skimmed the bloody throat of his meal, traveling up to her mouth. Just before his lips met hers, he felt the jealousy explode, and the resolve harden. This time when she spoke, it was a command.

"Eric."

Wordlessly, he withdrew, allowing her to take his place in front of the woman. The brunette's eyes followed him for only an instant more before Pamela demanded her attention. This time his progeny didn't blink, forcing her will onto the human. The woman submitted, her eyes closing as she offered her neck once again. Pam didn't even glance back at him before she bit, directly over his marks. When the blood hit her belly, he heard the moan of pleasure. She pulled at the blood, flooding her mouth over and over. When Eric heard the heart weaken, he gently touched her elbow. He would not pull her away. If she drained her, she drained her. But at his touch, Pam stopped, and regarded the woman with kind eyes. And then, in a flash, her eyes changed, regarding the woman with anger; and Eric felt the jealousy once again as a whispered threat echoed in the alley.

"Run."

The woman didn't need telling twice; the charm had lifted. Clutching at her neck, with hardly any strength to scream, she fled. Eric's laughter filled the void, even as Pam turned on him, nearly growling in anger. Just before she launched herself at him, he had her scooped up in his arms, pressed against the brick wall. She continued to glare even as his lips pressed against hers, and her tongue darted out to clean them of the blood that still dripped there. Surprising even him, she bit his bottom lip, drawing his blood into her own mouth. Pride surging through him, his hand gripped her chin, forcing her mouth away from his. She growled, still trying to taste him. He waited until she stilled, staring at him with anger and lust. He raised his brows, imploring her to listen.

"Lesson Two: No one can feed you but yourself."

She rolled her eyes, still trapped between him and the wall.

"You forgot to tell me the first lesson…master."

The sarcasm dripped from her words, and his grin grew as he shook his head.

"I've been telling you along, min ros. You just haven't been listening."

The jealousy still rippled through her when he caught her lips with his once again.

"Lesson One: No one compares to you."