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Blood Service

"What guarantee do I have that you won't turn me in anyway?"

"None, of course." His tone was blandly matter-of-fact. "May I remind you, I don't have to give you any guarantees, Adiva. You're the one who has to convince me."

She licked her dry lips. "How do you propose I do that?"

A long silence ticked by as he let her sweat. "According to your dossier, you're a seventeenth level submissive. Quite high, and relatively rare. I'm a twenty-first level dominant. That means I've got a nasty streak I rarely have the opportunity to indulge – sexually, at least."

"Meaning that those you pursue are fair game for whatever sadism you care to practice." And he cared to practice quite a bit, according to his file.

She felt him shrug against her. "Given that my typical prey runs towards pedophiles and serial murderers, I don't lose much sleep over what I do to them."

"Yeah, well, I'm neither of those things. So why the fuck are you picking on me?"

"Darling, you managed to piss the wrong people off during a war. What did you expect?"

"Tang is psychotic! The Adorevians have a right to overthrow..." She broke off, reining in her outrage and reaching for calm. "Never mind. Spell it out for me, Vigilante, or whatever the hell you call yourself. How do I ‘convince' you?"

His smile was slow and dark. "Why, by submitting, darling."

"To what?"

"Isn't it obvious? Whatever I want."