Hermes wasn't at all aware of Elsa slinking out of the room. All that mattered was Carrick and the turn of events he had seen coming in the heads of his fellow slaves since he was brought home.
The other shoe was dropped with resounding decisiveness.
He said nothing to Carrick as the vampire ripped what little clothing he'd been wearing in the first place off of him. This is what his vampire willed and he would allow it as he always would. His life seemed an endless cycle of never being asked if he truly wished for something. For the first time in a long while, he resented his position in the world.
Once he was bare, his gaze still fixed on the painting, he said softly, "A whore, my lord. Nothing more, nothing less." He closed his eyes, but only for a moment. "Your blade unsheathed then." Never to be put away.