Integra was sexless. To say she was a virgin….

Virgins were warm and supple. She was hard and sterile, like a hypodermic needle. There was no steamy dominatrix under her skin. There was no needy little girl. She was just Master, solid and cold and unyielding.

When he'd been newly reanimated, he looked upon his new master with delight. He had imagined then that Fate was offering him a rare opportunity to win back his freedom, seeing as how a female had miraculously become his master. Females were ruled by emotions and could be easily manipulated…and he was especially skilled at manipulating quivering, young flesh. And as his lazy, red eyes idled over the girl's ample, soft chest and womanly hips which was barely constrained by the modest uniform, he decided he would thoroughly indulge himself at the task at hand.

It wouldn't take much, so he thought. In that dungeon, she'd openly stared at him, obviously overwhelmed. He imagined it would take little more then a snap of his fingers to get that skirt hiked up around her waist and those virginal knickers bunched down by her ankles. What a lovely draculina she'd make. The first of many, he promised himself.

It took five years of downright denial for Alucard to accept reality.

He hadn't believed his ego could be stung by rejection, but it was. Not just rejection but…she outright ignored him.

He'd reshaped his face several times, standing before a mirror, critically judging himself. He altered the build of his body, taller, thinner, then more muscular, attempting to gauge her preference.

He discovered Integra's preference was for him to leave his goddamned appearance alone…or she would order him to wear a bell around his neck, so she promised.

After some time, though, it offered him a bit of comfort. At least he knew the chances that she would marry and have children were very, very slim. Though, as the girl leisurely navigated her teenage years, Alucard made sure he was enough of a menacing escort to keep any inquisitive gentlemen away.

On several odd occasions, Alucard had made curious advances of his own. He once slid his hand across Integra's hip, up her back, embracing her, eyeing her expression carefully, waiting for the barest hint of excitement to cross her face before she could compose herself—or at least listen for the satisfying, indignant shriek that he'd expect from an uptight, little protestant girl. But that had been many years ago, and he'd learned better since.

Her loins were colder then his.

No, his master's only passion was the hunt.

The kill.

And Alucard could appreciate that.

He wanted to kill. He needed to kill. And so it pleased him to kill for her. And in turn, she was pleased. But often times, he would return from his nights, flushed and excited still and covered in blood, not yet sated.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The street was crowded with ambulances and police cars. Sirens flashed, bathing the neighborhood in pulsing blue and red lights. Hellsing soldiers cautioned curious neighbors back into their homes.

Alucard emerged from the infected house and the milling soldiers and on-lookers parted before him so he could pass. He walked easily and confidently, continuing on straight, disregarding the gawking stares of the neighborhood and the icy gazes of the Hellsing soldiers where he met a gleaming Rolls Royce the edge of the scene, a white beacon amidst a sea of black vehicles and black uniforms.

And standing there, leaning lazily against the door, was the lady in white herself.

Arms folded, a cigar perched between her teeth, the master of monsters nodded with approval.

Clumps of flesh were stuck in Alucard's teeth and his long tongue worked at the soft tissue. Generally, he was a delicate creature, careful of how he sucked blood. But he had been hungry, and Integra's permission to kill the human chattel standing between him and the target vampire gave him the rare opportunity to feast on the living rather then from cold plastic.

The fact that she was here, waiting, was a sore spot on his pride. She always waited. She timed him, critiqued him and praised him or scolded him in turn. It was a sign of her mistrust. She was amiable enough about it. She welcomed him back in a pleasing enough manner. But he understood her true intent—she was keeping tabs on him, checking to see that he wasn't taking liberties with human by-standers behind her back.

Integra didn't hate Alucard. He was just fair game. That meant if he stepped too far away from her side, she could turn the tables and make him into her own prey without warning. He knew that at any second, he could go from her loyal servant to just another vampire pest, and he had no doubts that she would thoroughly enjoy showing him that. And she had the technology and the doctors and the scientists that could make it happen.

"Feeling satisfied?" Sir Integra asked.

"Never satisfied," he answered as he approached. "Pleased. But not satisfied." He glanced at his master. Her clothing was slightly rumpled. She'd gotten dressed in a hurry in response to the vampire attack. Even her hair was little tussled. She leaned casually against the hood of her Rolls Royce, taking a shallow drag on her cigar, expression relaxed and looking for all the world like she'd just fucked someone.

He smirked widely at her. "It was good for me, too."

Integra did not laugh or smile or scold him. She merely stood up and dropped her cigar on the street. The pavement was slightly damp due to an earlier rain and the cigar hissed as Integra crushed it with her shoe.

Alucard's smirk faded as she walked away. "Limited release; completed," he called after her.

Without turning around, Integra waved.

The driver exited the car, walking around the side and opened the door for the woman. She sidled in and the driver shut the door behind her, neither speaking. A moment later, the engine roared to life and Alucard was bathed in the glow of the headlights.

Without smiling, Alucard tipped his hat.

Watching the car drive away, Alucard decided that he didn't hate Integra either. He knew he should, because of her treachery and her faithlessness and because she owed her life to him a thousand times over…and in return she kicked dirt in his face, relished in her control over him, caused him humiliation. But he doubted he could accept any other kind of treatment. She was so pure in her desire, shameless and wonton in her butchery. She had no friends, only comrades and enemies…and slaves like he.


The End