His dark gaze landed on her, her soul almost glowing before him. He found him self in his usual habit of playing with the metal rings on his bottom lip, snakebites. The bite of a snake, he almost laughed at the irony of it. He ran his hand through his hair, his eyes fixated for a moment on the marking on his hand, his brand, his identity, his seal of property.
He looked back up again to her, her neck; on which the same marking lay, almost like a permanent love-bite - forever marking her as his property. He stifled a laugh again she would think of it the other way around, of him being her property, her personal butler. No, he thought, her soul is mine.
