The female looked pathetic. She made no move to resist him, or to speak in responce to his words. Once he had harmed her, it was like she shut down, letting go. What had happened to that rebellion and mouth of hers? It seemed the little beast was more or less simply talk. That only made his opinion of her lower more. He hated the fakeness, the lies and facade. He had dealt with it enough with his step mother what felt like long ago. The witch got what she deserved in the end. He watched her for a moment, before turning back to the door. Just for such a thing, he was tempted to make her scream once more.

He restrained himself though, keeping his composure. "You have a mission tonight mutt, fail or try any of this pathetic act again.....and you will get your first taste of just how bad things can really get for you" he says coldly. He turned away from her, walking out to hear the door closed behind him. "Sir, are you sure about this?" a guard followed him, "sending her after him?" Vladamir frowned, another thing he hated, was to have someone question him. "Yes. If we are lucky, he'll deal with her for us and kill her. If not and she comes back without doing her job.....I'll have a new toy to take my aggression out on" his words remaining calm, cold and collected.

The guard gave a bow, "as you wish Lord Ruelle..." Vladamir didn't miss a step, continuing along back to the stairs. He walked up them back to the main home. Lord Ruelle, that had been what his father had been known as. To be called that name, brought back a few memories of the older man. He hated and loved it at the same time. To be compared to his father, it was an honor and a discrace. He had made it clear, to himself and to others, that he wanted to be better than his father ever had been. However, he could never live up to his potential, if he was competing with living up to his father. He sighed slightly, he would have to deal with this and soon.

The quicker he got out from under this, the better. But how to make a name for himself? There were certain ways. One of which would be to attempt something within the family, another would be outside of it. He could not risk having a failure of a wolf messing things up for him. So, if she died on the mission tonight, that would be great for him. If not, he would make an example of her to the others. It was in a sense a win win for him. It would be up to her in the end what would become of her. There were two major enemies to the head family at the moment. A worlock werewolf who refused to die, and a pet that had managed to escape its master. Both needed to be silenced or submit.

He headed to the dining hall, where a place had already been set up for him. A maid pulled the chair out for him, to which he sat in. She bowed, before then proceeding to pour him a glass of dark red liquid. She then backed off, as a butler brought out his meal. Most believed blood was all vampires survived on. They needed it to survive yes, but their body was also able to process other food and drink as well. In some cases, it was able to help slate and manage the hunger a bit. For a vampire who knew their body and how to manage their power and more, the hunger was little more than something that needed to be handled on occasion. However, this was not the case with all vampires.

There were plenty who enjoyed using the hunger as an excuse. The pure taste of blood, the hunt and the way victims responded. They gave vampires a bad name. There were different types, just like with all races. He was not like the others, though this did not matter to those who wanted to just lump them in as all one hellish race. Like that beast. He frowned, lifting the glass, his eyes on the liquid within. They would be happy with them all slaughtered. He knew the differences that could arise within races, that not all were the same. Though as much as he preferred to make up his own mind about something, he also wouldn't have cared if all of them simply rolled over and died.