Amara was dozing in front of the lord's bedroom when she heard a dull thump, threw open the door, and found a vampire fist-deep in her client's chest. He'd died in an instant, prised apart and pierced by the creature's tight fingers, by her jaws crunched around his neck, all done in dead silence until the vampire had gotten a bit too excited and... knocked over a chair! That pulled a small bubbling laugh from Amara's throat, and the vampire wrinkled her nose and pulled her gaunt face from the man's throat, offended.

"Excuse me?" She said it haughty like a noble, which meant Amara really should've had a name for the face, but she really couldn't be bothered to remember the revolving door of women that went in and out of her clients' bedchambers. This one was a bit toothy, and a bit voluptuous for a noble, but as she struggled to get her blood-slick hand out of the corpse's chest hole, she made prissy little noises just like the rest of them, pouting until she rounded on Amara with a snarl. "Stop staring, you little freak! Aren't you going to--"

"My lady," Amara interrupted her respectfully, and the vampire goggled at her again. "Your name, please?" There was really no rush now that her client was dead, and a name would give her somewhere to take the creature’s body once she’d killed it. She kept away from the vampire's eyes and idly moved her hand down to the shortsword at her belt, silvered and etched to ward off beasts; an odd thing for a bodyguard to carry around, but Amara was one of the best. And the motion drew the vampire's eyes to her hands, and below them to the silver sword, and the strange stillness that had taken both of them snapped, all at once, as the vampire flinched and bolted towards the dead client's sword, discarded with his clothes at the side of the room.

No name, then. Amara surged forwards to meet her, and the vampire reached the sword just before Amara did, snapped it up to meet her deathblow and stop it cold. They were always so damn strong; the parry was like hitting a brick wall, and Amara pulled back and cut a ribbon burn down the vampire's thigh, just below her chemise, nostrils flaring at the sizzle-pop of undead flesh. "Fuck," the vampire hissed, stumbled half-backwards under her own weight. "Just my luck to get the one competent guard in this fucking -- come on," she whined, "he was such a dick. Are you seriously going to--"

Amara snapped another killing-blow at the vampire's neck, deflected again, which wasn't surprising; vampires were shit with weapons, but still twice as fast as Amara could move. Killing them was a matter of freaking them out, turning them feral or shell-shocked or both, and as Amara swept over the vampire's body, carefully avoiding the eyes, this one looked close to breaking. "What did you expect?" Amara said, amused. "It's my job, isn't it?" And her passion, really. The vampire looked absolutely debauched, chemise pooled against the floor and torn to expose her breasts, legs and stomach marked with Amara's silver and the rough floor. Most beasts would be running at this point, but this one held still, looking up at the sleek muscles of her sword arm with something like awe, and when Amara stepped forwards between her legs the vampire trembled and rolled its shoulders back, revealing some vaguely illegal breasts, huge and blood-slick stiff and wanting in the cold air, and for fuck's sake Amara had a job -- stop ogling the noblewomen, you know you can't get away with it -- and she instinctually snapped her gaze up to the vampire's wide eyes. Oh.

What a stupid fucking way to die. Amara sank deeper into the vampire's eyes blown wide with arousal, watery with fear and silver cuts, pupils pulsing as the vampire shivered below her, in and out, taking a bit more of Amara each time. Her world narrowed to the rabbit-caught creature before her; she'd already been doing it, more or less, by trying to kill her. And she was beautiful -- they always were -- so it was easy to sink down slowly to her knees, getting wetter and wetter as the vampire's fear curdled into something like disgust. "...are you serious? You had me dead to rights, and now you're just..." She cupped Amara's cheek, and the bodyguard moaned pathetically and leaned into those delicate hands, and her lady's nose wrinkled again. "Freak," she said, voice a bit giddy from cheating death. "You're so--"

"Yesss," Amara let out, slurred. "Yours," she gasped, "use me, my lady, please." She wriggled pleasantly, rutting her cunt against the floor, then whimpered when the vampire flinched and shoved her back. "Wh--"

"What are you -- this isn't a sex thing!" The vampire sputtered. "You were going to kill me! I'm a woman!"

"That is really not an issue," Amara purred, and when she leaned forwards and settled onto her lady's lap she moaned again as the vampire tightened her grip, held her up with those sharp claws pressing firm on her skin through her leathers. "Fuck," she moaned, "you're divine. Wait. Right. I need to kill you?" The vampire shook her head pretty vigorously at that, and Amara sighed happily as the motion swept some brown hair across her face, dark and wet with her client's corpse's blood. "Dribbly old fuck," she giggled, and when her lady smiled Amara sighed and settled lazily in her lap, still caught in her pooling eyes.

"Don't I know it," the vampire said drily. "Well. If he's dead, your job's done, isn't it? You've got no-one left to guard."

"Right!" Amara said brightly. That sounded reasonable. "So, are we going to fuck now?"

"I thought we had you off of that?" The vampire looked at Amara, a bit pleading.

"I'm sorry, my lady," Amara said, "but I really don't think I'll be 'off of that' anytime soon. I mean, have you seen yourself?"

"Um," the vampire said awkwardly, "I'm really nothing much--"

"I could write bad poetry about your breasts. Maybe even good poetry," Amara said dreamily, pleased at the way the vampire fidgeted at her words. After all, if her lady had needs she'd been denied, wasn't it Amara's duty to teach her to fill them properly? She was the best at what she did; there would be no replacement for her mouth and fingers, and as she stroked down the vampire's slender wrists, she thought her lady was starting to know it. "Won't you let me serve you? I'm much better at fucking than fighting, and you've seen me with that sword. Don't you want all of me?"

"Oh my god," the vampire squeaked, "you're so--"

Amara blinked, head fuzzing. "God?"

"It's a habit," the vampire snapped defensively, and in that moment the petulant look on her blood-gaunt face made Amara want to kiss her.

So she did, obviously. Couldn't waste a chance to show off her mouth, either. Her lady's eyes fluttered closed for a second as Amara pressed further in and… slumped, half-boneless, onto the vampire's shoulder. She couldn't see her anymore, and her head pulsed angrily as she slurred, "wh--"

The vampire seized with panic and pushed her away, took her limp chin and stared her back down, eyes pulsing. "That's what you're doing!" The vampire said triumphantly. "You're trying to escape. No more tricks," she snapped. "Sleep, thrall."

"What? No, I'm serious," Amara said weakly, "you're--"

"Sleep," the vampire said again, a bit frantically, and her eyes widened and swallowed the world. Amara slept.