Chapter 8: Wine

The guy, Vuja, ran away with haste and I felt a little embarrassed that I was the subject of his order. Within a matter of seconds, a sharp knife landed in front of Samael, causing his wine glass to tremble ever so slightly. Observing the scene, I noticed that the slaves refrained from engaging in conversation with Samael. They would bow, but there was no exchange of greetings or further words. Perhaps that was Sam's preference.

Samael grabbed the knife and harshly put it in front of me on the table, making his wine glass shake more. "Keep it on you at all times, Fay. I'm not fucking joking around." He let go of the knife and slid it closer to me. "No, you don't seem the type that jokes around." I said back, my eyes on the extremely sharp looking knife.

Suddenly, Samael's face was right next to mine. His voice dripped with a threatening tone as he whispered in my ear, "Be careful what you say, flower. I know your deepest fears."

A shiver ran down my arm, the memories of last night sti