Disclaimer: The characters of Naruto belong to Masashi Kishimoto, but the universe is all mine.
Happy V Day, for Sorrowful Vampress!

Sakura swam up through inky darkness and felt nothing but dread. The nightmares had been horrible, but at least there she didn't have the weighted knowledge of her imprisonment. At least there, she didn't know that it was all her own doing. Her mistakes. Her foolish choices.

Hard fingers traced her jawbone and she tried her best not to flinch away. They trailed up into her tangled pink locks and she fought to keep her breathing calm and even.

It didn't matter though. It never did.

"Good morning, my pet." That hated voice was smooth, low, compelling. Confidence apparent in every inflection. It made her feel sick. It made her feel like what she was in reality, frail and powerless.

His fingers slid out of her hair, sharp nails barely skimming over her scars until they pressed in under her jaw. He turned her face towards him.

"Do you know what day it is?" he asked lightly, uncaring that she did not respond to his touches. "Christmas and New Years were months ago."

She felt his warmth as he leaned over her. It didn't feel right that such a cold creature like him could ever hold body heat. But he did, and she feared it.

It was twisted, the way that her captor would observe the human holidays. The different celebrations meant nothing to him, but he knew that with each reminder of the events that passed, Sakura felt the time slip by. And it had been already been a year several months ago since she had unwittingly called him.

The urge to lash out, to snap open her eyes and snarl at him, to reach up and yank his hand away from her skin sent rivers of adrenaline through her, waves of intoxication. But she knew better. Last time, months ago when she had given in to her urges, her fantasies, he had chuckled, slammed her down to the bed, and made her bones feel like they were red hot pokers, searing her body, inside to out.

She had screamed for him then, for hours. When it was over, he had leaned over her, placing his hands exactly where they had been before, and asked her if she would like to try again. The pain still echoed through her limbs and she had weakly looked away. She barely flinched when he had continued to carve into her skin below her breasts. Compared to what was before, the removal of thin slices of flesh was negligible.

Now, his nails traced over the scars on her throat, raised paler flesh that he had adorned over her entire body. She had looked before of course. Her prison had a light and she had always been allowed freedom of movement in such a small space. At first, when the process had begun, she had been horrified at what he had done to her arms. Harsh bloody swirls dominated the surface more than any healthy skin. The pain was unimaginable. When the open cuts scabbed over, they would tear apart if she moved. She may have been allowed to move freely, but it was a sham. She spent most of her time on her bloody mattress, still as stone, trying not to spiral into despair.

When he had finished her face, Sakura hadn't known what was worse, the sting of her tears in her raw wounds or the pressure of his claws as he sank his power into her exposed flesh.

Those same claws caressed her scars, his work, down along a collarbone to tickle the edges of the large intricate pattern that spanned her entire chest.

"It's Valentine's Day," he crooned lovingly in her ear, a fallacy that was wrong in so many ways. "Do you remember what we were doing last year?"

At this, her entire body went rigid. Oh, she couldn't forget. She would never forget, Madara had—No!

Aah, you've been thinking of me. How sweet. His voice thrummed through her head, and Sakura whimpered. His presence in her mind was overpowering. Hot tendrils of him slipped down familiar pathways and despite her eyes shut tight, she could already feel the way her scars flickered with empty light.

Above her, Madara smiled and brushed light touches on her eyelids, and the scars there shone in response. He chuckled.

Open your eyes, pet.

Sakura sighed and flicked open her eyes, the only part of her that he had not touched. But then, really, who would want to scar their eyes? Yes Master? I was trying to sleep.

The demon at her bedside quirked a brow, then motioned her to rise. I thought you would enjoy some time out. It's Valentine's Day after all.His mental voice felt like warm silk in her mind and Sakura shivered slightly as it caressed every inch. If there ever was a sexier voice, she'd never know.

Shaking her head at her wandering thoughts, the girl shrugged and sat up in bed, not bothering to glance at the cool sheets that pooled at her waist. Her master had seen every inch of her body before anyway. What was modesty now?

She tilted her head and frowned at Madara. Why do you care about human traditions anyway? You're a friggin demon! You were probably born before any of these even occurred to Hallmark.

A smirk was all she received for an answer as the ebony-haired male gestured at a dress that hung by the door. Up girl, I have plans for tonight.

What? she teased, slipping from the bed. You have something to do other than world domination in mind? She paused to gape at him mockingly. You have a hobby?

Her master snorted. World domination indeed. He shook his head and walked towards the bookcase and the single arm chair near the door, sending a pulse of power to brighten the light in the room as he went. Go, get ready. I seem to remember that humans made reservations at expensive restaurants, is that right?

Sakura stumbled on her way to the shower in the corner, before whirling around. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and wariness. You? Her eyebrows were up and her brilliant emerald eyes were wide. The great Uchiha Madara made reservations?

It was ridiculous. Her master could have had his own private banquet instead of sharing a dinner with dozens of other demons in the common gathering spots. Wait...

Swiftly crossing the room, Sakura glanced at her master in passing, but devoted her attention to examining the dress. It was a dark red made of warm cotton, soft. Man-made and in human fashion.

Her whole nude body buzzing with excitement, she turned her stunned eyes to the other occupant of the room. We're going to my world?She could hardly contain her giddiness now and her master was clearly amused by her antics.

We would, he mused. If someone was ready to leave in twenty minutes.

Sakura yelped and dove for the shower. Thanking several deities and a demon for the thoughtfulness in her master's use of human terms for time, the girl traced her fingertips over several of the sigils in the slick slate tiles. Heated water pounded down from the ceiling and she grabbed the soap.

As much as demons held humans in contempt for their short lives and constant bickering, they wasted no time in borrowing several ideas. Showers being one of them, she mused.

Scrubbing her hands through her hair, Sakura rubbed shampoo through her locks and glanced over to where her master was waiting. She blinked when she realized he was watching her, bright red eyes shining from across the room. Her body flushed with heat from something other than the hot water cascading down her body.

Damn, but he was hot. And my master!Sakura yelped in her own head and promptly ducked down under the spray.

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, bad thoughts, she repeated the mantra. He was probably watching that she didn't slip on the soap. Again. Sakura groaned and leaned over to the side to thunk her forehead against the stone. It was bad enough that she had slipped, but she had banged her head hard enough to black out. Vestiges of nightmares tugged at her memory. All in all, the one accident had been very disorienting. And very embarrassing. When she had awoken, she was back in bed, Madara hovering over her.

Let's not repeat that ever again, she thought to herself.

You're thinking of me again. Madara's amused tone swirled through her mind. Repeat what?

Sakura rolled her eyes as she tapped the tiles again and the cascade stopped. Reaching up, she wrung the water from her long hair and stuck a tongue out at him. She kept forgetting that thinking her master's name was the equivalent of knocking on a door. He held no compunctions against answering, and as his pet, she was used to letting him in.

I'm going to need shoes,she reminded him, skirting the question entirely. She reached out to the side and pulled a large fluffy towel off a nearby hook. Aaah, demon magic and self-heating spells...

A long suffering sigh drifted through the room. There was a tangled impression of threads and shining power, and then a pair of simple dainty white sandals dropped down on the bed. Will those do?

Sakura rubbed the towel against her hair as she padded over to the bed. Hmmm, they are acceptable, she deadpanned.

Her master's snort made her giggle.


AN: No, I'm not trying to pair these two together (Ugh, perish the thought!). No, I'm not trying to make Madara a decent demon/character. Just showing how much he's got Sakura under his thumb and how much he enjoys it.