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“So ... Avery’s back. Older, and ... stronger, I guess? Back and in charge of a new pack?”“Seems that way.”“ ... got to be honest with you Jacob, I expected a little more of that fucking psycho I’d grown used to. And I expected that psycho to be full-on rage-boner hard right now, and concocting a plan to kill Avery horribly.” She leaned against the cave wall, and peeked behind her. Still just her, alone, poking the bear like an idiot.Jacob frowned at her, but his gaze fell back to the horse skull, and he ran his fingers along its surface, its texture, its stained dirty white shape.“You ever fought a werewolf, Triss?”“What? No, course not. Hell I borderline figured they were a myth since no one talked about them, except to be scary. They—”“Imagine ... a creature of claws, and muscle, of bone and strength. Think a Gangrel gone draugr, transformed with as much malice and blood as they can muster, talons and fangs and all. Now make them nine feet tall, drooling at the chops.” Jacob set. It never seemed strange to me, it never seemed wrong.All the while, that simple phrase. An initiation of capitulation: "How may I serve you, Mistress?"And then, one day, a response that gave me pause."Take off my shoes, my feet are aching. I'd like you to give me a massage." Yes, Mistress," I replied dutifully. I didn't hesitate, not for a single second. Even though some distant relic of my former self screamed out in muted anguish at what she was having me do, I didn't resist. I simply obeyed.I squatted down before her, on heels too high for practical work, and took her slender foot in my trembling hands. She was dressed to perfection, as she always was. Open shoes that cost more than I'd earn in a year; nylon stockings of the most exquisite softness; a low cut black dress that wouldn't seem out of place at the finest cocktail party. In truth, I felt a rush of inadequacy. That I, a simple maid, should be able to touch such a goddess... I fumbled with the delicate buckle around her.
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