Mark of Cain

As he turn his back on me, I immediately get a hold of his right hand. I flinched at the sudden jolt of electricity and also his hand is very cold, colder than usual. "Am I to whore myself?"

That's the first thing that came on to my mind, I've been reading and watching some historical drama and the scenes are always brutal, like for some newbie at a castle, you need to earn your place. By means of whoring around or being a mistress of some castle guard or, if lucky enough, some officials at the castle if they were to like you. My palms become instantly sweaty due to the thoughts that are starting to fill me.

"J'aimerais aussi cette idée, princesse, mais tu es bien trop décente pour ce sale boulot. Where the fuck did you get that idea from?" He was looking at me like I've grown another head, he then smirked at me. (I'd like that idea too, princess, but you're way too decent for a dirty job like that.)

Oh my fucking g-, No. I'll admit, he is some hella fine piece of beef. The way his Italian accent roll on to his tongue, it makes me wan- No! Get your to your senses, Margaux!

"I-It's always been like that! P-people living in a castle have some kind of system,"

"You're making me laugh, Ivanov. Your lewd thoughts are somewhat entertaining," He said while smiling at me. And to hell with that killer smile of his, his pearl white teeth are on show and his lips are telling. His smile lit up his whole dark aura.