Jacob feels strong, heady, damn-straight on top of the world when he slips into the estate he had escaped from a mere day ago. The blood he had drained atop the River Thames is a heavy, comforting weight in his belly – knowing it had come from dead men walking. Realizing that; realizing that he could drink from the throats of men he would've sliced open anyway felt like a burden off his shoulders he hadn't felt since the moment he and Evie had put Crawley miles behind them.

He slipped by the guards easily, not because of his new nature, but because of the nature he had taken his entire life to cultivate within the brotherhood. But Roth's little "gift" did have its perks, Jacob couldn't deny it. His eyes were more focused, his vision more mature. He could see every living soul in the estate while using his eagle vision now; could time his movements to theirs flawlessly. It took minutes to find himself outside of his creator's private chamber. Even less to silently slide in.

He found Roth in a dark corner by the window, a glass of thick red liquid cupped – nearly carelessly – in loose fingers as he took in the night before him. He seemed calm. At peace. He didn't turn to look at Jacob when he spoke, but Jacob didn't think he'd enter unnoticed – not when Jacob could feel Roth's own presence like a buzzing in the back of his mind since the moment he entered the estate.

"You came back," Roth said, and Jacob could tell the monster was grinning; pleasantly surprised.

"I did."

Finally, Roth turned in his plush seat to regard him. Immediately, his surprise melted into a pleased look of approval. He quirked a brow and his voice dipped just a little bit deeper as his eyes swept over Jacob from head to toe. No tact. Jacob imagined the image he must paint – half drowned and dripping. Stained with splatter, smelling to high heaven of brackish water and death; but Roth seemed pleased to no end. Even if Jacob was dripping on his expensive carpets.

"You fed," Roth barked, shocked and joyful. "You fed well."

"That obvious?" Jacob asked with a smirk.

Roth's own smile grew, practically split his face in half. Gently, he sat his glass aside and lifted himself from his chair with the grace of a great cat. His steps were silent, and as he came closer, Jacob couldn't help but think the man looked younger somehow. His wrinkles smoothed, his pale skin flush, his hair fuller – brighter. He reached for Jacob at both shoulders, shook him gentle in his excitement, then let his hands slide down to grasp Jacob's own. He looked at Jacob like he was something precious and young, and it made him shiver. Like that little bird he crushed mere days ago.

"And how does it feel?"

"Wonderful," he said, thinking of how he felt. Young. Viral. Powerful. "Horrible," he said, thinking of the pain it had taken to get to this point. "Terrifying," he said, although he said it simply, as though commenting on the weather.

There was no use in lying. Heady from the rush of endorphins and his first real meal, Jacob couldn't shake the feeling of rightness from his bones. His body – his human body – felt like a shadow compared to the skin he inhabited now. How could he ever go back to his slowly aching joints and bruises and decaying flesh? His vision had never been bad before, but by comparison to now Jacob felt he might as well have been blind. A niggling in the back of his mind remembered the guilt – the girl – his sister.

But he had a way, now, to live this life. And oh, how he'd live it. Oh the gory dent he'd put in Starrick's forces now that he had this power within his hands. He'd shred the Templars, burn them until nothing was left – and then he'd deal with the consequences of his immortal soul. But for now, he'd just enjoy it while there was food enough to spare.

"It will get easier," Roth promised, moving one hand to rest above the spot where Jacob's heart once beat. "It's all uphill from here, darling."

"I didn't come here to celebrate, Roth," Jacob said, not pulling away but not relaxing either. His usual playfulness slipped away beneath a businesslike mask – and he saw the way the smile melted from Roth's face. The man pulled away.

"Oh?"

"I nearly killed my sister. And that cannot stand. If that ever happens – if I ever hurt her again – I will come here to finish what I started in the Alhambra," he said, advancing on Roth now, towering over him while anger seethed from his every pore. "I will not hesitate. I will not show mercy. And when I am done and your seemingly immortal life has ended – I will take my own, and our story will end. Silently, in an instant."

Roth shivered. Something flashed in his eyes – something dark and knowing. His smile was back, now. For the life of Jacob, he just couldn't understand this man.

"Those sound like terms to me, darling. Terms to what deal, I wonder."

Jacob felt his breath still in his lungs. A final moment of deliberation, like one last breath before the plunge. He leapt.

"The deal is this, Roth. You teach me to control this gift of yours. Teach me to control myself. This hunger," Jacob said, taking another step closer until they were nose to nose. "And I will stay."

Roth leaned in closer, their mouths practically brushing as his scarlet eyes met Jacob's.

"Then by all means, my dear," he whispered into his mouth, "Stay."

Jacob smiled, and in his gut, he felt success lift his spirits. He was in Roth's good graces once more. He'd suck this well dry until he had his feet beneath him. He'd absorb Roth's teachings, he'd keep the man happy, he'd make him think himself in control – and then, after Starrick lay beneath his boot heel dead and cold, Jacob would return and finish what he started.

He'd see to it firsthand that Roth never ruined another life, another family. Not if Jacob could help it.

[a/n] Sorry friends! Work had in me NYC for the past week - and the crazy set hours left me with no time to update. But here's a quick, mini-update! Thank you again for all the support! I adore you guys!