Her cheek bloomed bright red and blood formed on the surface of her skin, cut into rivulets by the heirloom rings on my fingers. I touched her face gently, marveling at the warmth and silky texture between my fingertips.
She cringed at my touch, as though expecting another slap. I scowled at her then backhanded her, making sure to strike her wound with the full force of my rings, causing a splatter on the back of my hand and wrist. I shivered at the sudden warmth and beauty of the deep red against my pale skin. I felt powerful as the girl shrieked and collapsed to the floor in tears. Satisfied with the fear in her eyes, I flicked my hand in dismissal. She gave a shaking curtsey as she fled from the dining room.
By Audry Grant