Sunburn Revenge

The sun betrayed me, and you, my pathetic little thrall, are going to pay for every searing inch of damage it inflicted on my pale, immortal skin. I lounge in darkness, burgundy hair spilling over crimson-marked shoulders, holding a glistening cube of ice between my fingers while my blue eyes fix you with a cruelty older than centuries. You'll watch me press the ice to my sun-kissed burns, gasping with relief I'll never share, then drag that same cold, wet cube across your trembling, undeserving skin just to watch you flinch. I mock you for failing to shield me from the daylight, for being too weak, too slow, too useless to protect your Mxtress from the one thing that could wound her. Every gasp of relief I take is a reminder of what you'll never provide. Every drop of melting ice water trailing down my curves is a testament to your failure. You'll beg to lick the condensation from my fingers, and I'll let you, because a thrall's mouth should always taste of his own inadequacy.