It was a sudden shock to see her master standing at her warehouse entrance as she prowled through the streets headed home. Garbed in her usual assassin's attire she halts mid-step as she glances the tall familiar figure leaning against her door. Regaining her composure, she clears her throat and makes her way towards home. "Ah, my pet, I see this is where you have been running off to as of late," his voice pours over her ears much like a caress, a caress that caused shivers to run down her spine. Horrified at being found out, she sets a tight clamp on her emotions as she simply ignores his jab, letting the two of them into the warehouse.

An uncomfortable silence follows them up the stairs and into the lounging room. "I wasn't aware you knew of my second home," she scowls at him, turning to face him. An airy chuckle follows her statement and she can't but internally flinch at his voice. Crossing her arms almost defiantly, she tilts her head at him. "Don't by daft, my dear. I know everything regarding my belongings," he waves a hand in the air and approaches the assassin suddenly, the back of his hand flying so suddenly she doesn't have even a moment to process anything but pain as she staggers away from his backhanded slap.

The ring gouges into the side of her cheek and she can already feel the bruise forming around her eye. Without complaint, she simply stands straight again eyeing him without expression, her hands limp at her side. "That is for lying to me," he states, shrugging out of his long coat and tossing it to the nearby couch. "Are you forgetting something, Vhalla dear?" he smiles an unamused smile at her as he begins to work on the buttons of his shirt. "Thank you, master," she replies meekly, eyes trained on his feet.

"Much better. I have a sudden urge to warm your bed."

- - - - - - - -
Much later, Vhalla finds herself wrapped in her robe, exposing her bare skin, simply clothed in her undergarments and a fresh bite wound on her neck. Why her master enjoyed the agony of feeling her blood in his system was beyond her. The silver, unfortunately, wasn't deadly enough to put him out for any length of time. Following her master down the hallway and back into the lounge room, she stares daggers at the back of his him, already fully clothed and pristine, silently cursing him in every way possible.

Pausing at the center of the room, she watches him take a seat on her chaise lounge. Beckoning her to him she can't help but obey until the banging of her door causes her head to snap towards the direction, a familiar voice shouting through the frame. Glancing quickly back to her master, she watches as an amused smirk dances on his lips, a brow arched in curiosity. "No one of consequence," she drawls in a bored voice as she continues her way to her master. "Ah, but I find that he may be of interest tonight. Perhaps you will invite your guest in tonight?" he suggests though she could feel the tightening in her limbs at the command.

Vhalla's body moves almost of its own accord though she screams at it to stop mentally. Sweat beads at her temple as she reaches for the handle, her hand shaking and wrenches the door open to reveal her glorious Will. Eyes widening in terror she moves forward slightly so her expression is hidden from her master as she holds Will's gaze, the cold air whipping about her nearly naked form. Taking several short breaths, she gathers her emotions and puts a lid on it, though her hand is deathly white as she grips the handle, the only sign of the terror running amuck through her mind. "Please, invite our guest in, my pet," he orders sternly, his Russian accent rolling through the air in a command.

Opening the door wider, she takes a step back averting her gaze from Will and letting him pass her into the lounge room where her master now stands poised, deathly still in the middle of the room. His blonde hair immaculately groomed into a pony tail, his features clear of any stubble, hands folded neatly behind his back. The vampire didn't look a day over 30, though his exact age was unknown to Vhalla, she knew him to be centuries old however.

Still averting her gaze, Vhalla was no longer the cock-sure assassin, she was merely a meek girl with a gash and bruise spreading across her face. She was a defeated woman in the eyes of anyone. Closing the door quietly, she retreats to her master's side just one step behind him, her arms hanging limp at her sides, eyes weaving through the detail on her lush carpet. "Introduce us, my dear," he commands, as he regards William with open curiosity. "He's no one-," she begins but is cut short, "Vhalla." his voice does not raise but she can feel the threat coating his words in her body. Physically flinching away from him, she lifts her eyes to Will's for the first time since being in the same room, a sort of pleading look.

"William Holloway meet my master Ivan Sokolov," she speaks, just barely over a whisper still holding Will's eye pleading to him silently to not get involved.