Young Master Damien's Pet

The words he spoke resonated deeply in her mind and heart. Her eyes not looking away from him even for a second. This was the second time Damien had spoken something that she looked up to as if there was a light at the end of the tunneled bridge she was in at the moment.

A lof times Damien was always someone who enjoyed seeing people get annoyed and fl.u.s.tered, his words hitting right through one's heart which was mostly sarcastic or threatening ones. But right now she didn't know why she couldn't move her eyes away.

"Have I charmed you with my words?" he broke the spell and her eyes lowered down, hearing the coachman who asked Damien,

"Master, the horses have been given water. Will we be leaving for Quinn's mansion?"

"Yes, let's leave," ordered Damien. The carriage slightly shook as the coachman had jumped on to his seat.

Penny had never played the game of chess though she had heard plenty about the game. People like her who belonged to the class f peasants who were trying to survive through the days and week had no time to spend on things like it. It was the rich men and women, the families who belonged to the higher societies who had time to spare on games, the theatrical play and the tea parties which a poor woman or a man could not dream of.

With the awkwardness which had only started to disappear, Damien had only made it even more obvious by commenting on how his words had affected her.

"Do you know to play chess?" he asked her to which she shook her head, "Have you heard of it?" and this time Penny nodded her head to a yes, "Words, dear mouse. You have a beautiful voice, don't hide it with the mum actions," his words were too straight forward and it felt like since two days his words had been attacking her, not that it hadn't before but this was a little too forward which she was unprepared for.

"Yes, Master Damien."

If Penny belonged to a higher class, maybe she would have considered that Damien Quinn was trying to court her, but Penny was a slave. But this was Damien who was a strange pureblooded vampire who did things which one didn't expect. The more thought she gave to it, the more stressful she felt thinking if he was courting her for his own amus.e.m.e.nt.

"The game isn't too hard. Once we go home I will teach you. By tomorrow morning you will ace the game," promised Damien.

Reaching back at the mansion, most of the carriages that had arrived at Quinn's mansion had left. It had been more than three to four hours with Damien and Penny who had been away from the mansion.

Damien being true to his word had made Penny sit in front of a black and white board with various shaped pawns that were placed on the board. He had taught her from the beginning, starting with the basics of what was the role of each pawn. To Penny's surprise, Damien took his time to teach her without rushing it and making her understand one by one. If one were to look at Damien and speak about patience they would say he had none but that would be wrong to assume, thought Penny to herself as she looked at the board where she had been given the black pawns to play against the white.

He had only stepped out of the room for ten minutes and by the time he had returned back, Penny's head rested on the bed with one of her arms stretched out. She softly breathed in an out, but her body was still stiff as if she would wake up with one sound in the room. Closing the door, Damien walked forward, pulling the chessboard and putting the pieces back in its place. Coming back, he sat on the bed next to her to see her sleeping face.

His hand reached her face, wanting to push away the strands of her hair that hovered over her face but it stopped mid-way. Retracing back his fingers he shook her shoulder, "Sleep on the bed, mouse," she would catch a cold, thought Damien who heard her hum but still sleeping, "Get on the bed or I will pick you up myself," he murmured the last line.

Getting no response from her, he sighed. What a troublesome little thing he had in his room.Going to the fireplace, he pulled out the drawer that had the spare wood, putting them in the already burning fire, Damien stood up to go back to Penny. Picking her up, he placed her on the bed to see her curl once he had put the blanket on her.

Damien stared at her. Since the time he had bought her, he had a hunch that Penny wasn't a mere human but a witch. The question was what kind of witch she was but seeing the traits of her, putting to her simple test he had gathered that she couldn't be a black witch.

It was the wound at the bottom of her feet that had raised his doubts on her being a witch. The stupid mouse had no clue what happened when one stepped on a rusted iron and she had stepped far too deep. His words had been threatening at that time but he had no other choice but to use his nail to pierce through the skin to pull out the blood and puss from her feet. Taking her to the doctor anywhere would only raise suspicion.

Humans were fragile creatures who were easy to break. Unlike vampires who were affected by only a few things, the life of a human was as good as a lone thread that could be cut by pulling the two ends apart. Damien knew it better as he had seen the cases that came to Murkh for examination. Infection was the most common thing and Penny would have been affected by the infection spreading through her muscles and joints where one would have to cut the limb to stop the infection.

Strangely even though the infection was there it had been trying to not spread which was were Damien had picked about her kind. To test it further, he had made her climb the tree. A white witch often used the grounds but with the black witches, they usually relied on different transport as well as climbing the tree which looked similar to a lizard trying to climb on the wall. The arms and legs often crossed as they climbed but it happened with this one.

Turning around to the bathroom with his gaze breaking away from her.It would be a lie if he said he didn't enjoy the scene with her staring at the tree. Damien had never been one to judge, as crude and mean he came to the public, there was a reason why the council had appointed him to take care of the black market and the things that went behind the scenes of the high society.

He washed his face with the cold water. Splashing it on his face to pull back as he wiped it with the black towel, letting his hands fall on the edge of the sink where he looked at his eyes. One eyes of his was dark red and the other fluctuating between black and red like a candle of light placed near an open window.