Sinful

New Recruits

A/N: Hello readers, passer-bys, and haters! Thanks for taking a look at my work; it means a lot to me. This is my first real attempt at a story, so kindly put down the torches and pick up a red pen. If you have suggestions, please let me know! Constructive criticism is wanted. Also, don't steal my work. If you do, I will find out where you live, track you down, then brutally murder you. Thanks! <3

~Audrey

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I launched myself at him, wielding blades bigger than my forearm. He attempted to block my move with his own sword, but I knocked it aside. He swung at me, I ducked. I thrust my right blade into his chest, black blood erupting from the gaping hole. He let out a gut wrenching scream before collapsing to the floor in agony. His body convulsed for a moment before going still. I strode over and pulled the blade out with a wet suctioning sound. I wiped it on his shirt then stepped over his corpse. Another successful day of training. It had taken me even less time to kill him than it had yesterday, which was a new record. Without breaking stride, I hurled both daggers behind me. I didn't have to look to know they had hit the bulls-eye on the wall.

"Well done, Mistress. I will see you tomorrow at the same time." My training partner stood up, brushing invisible specks of dirt off his uniform. The cavernous hole in his torso began to turn an ugly shade of purple. I watched, uncaring, as the hole closed in on itself. There was no trace of the wound he had suffered, just smooth, tanned skin.

Not bothering to respond, I left the room. He didn't deserve my attention. I had better things to do that didn't including wasting my time talking pleasantries. I had other duties to attend to, like slipping my tongue into the mouth of a certain pretty boy later on. My whole life, boys had been falling before me, worshiping me. I basked in the power of my superiority.

Glaring ahead, I paid no attention to the people passing by. I tilted my chin up in a way that screamed don't come near me or I'll gut you.

A small, dark-haired man carrying a tray full of wine glasses caught my eye. He tottered a bit when he walked, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath from down the hall. The closer I got to him, the more rank the stench became. He would probably have the worst hangover of his life, but I didn't give a rat's ass about him.

He picked up a glass and began to chug its contents. Golden liquid trickled down his chin and splattered on the obsidian floor. With a careless toss, the wine glass smashed against the wall.

I locked eyes with him, my fists clenched so tightly I could feel blood bubbling up into my palms. Faster than I thought possible, he collapsed onto his knees; the tray of glasses on the floor beside him. Hands clasped and head lowered, his whole body shook with tremors of fear.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" My snarl made every head turn. Servants backed away before pivoting and fleeing. He was sweating profusely; his overwhelming stench fueled my rage.

"I-I'm sorry-I know I should have been serving drinks, I was thirsty. Besides, the glasses refill themselves, so I didn't think it would be a big deal," His voice was barely a whisper. I seized his chin with a hand, forcing his head up as I dug my fingernails into his flesh. He hissed in pain but didn't cry out.

"Let's make one thing clear, only my father and I are to be served drinks. You are not to touch those glasses other than to take them on and off the tray. If I see you drinking one more time, you will suffer. Do you understand me?" My nails had sunk in far enough to leave marks, even scars. Blood was pooling around my fingers and dribbling off his chin.

"I understand,¨ he muttered, looking anywhere except my face.

"You're lucky I don't gut you on the spot. Get out of my sight," I released him, pushing him away as I continued on.