Her instinct to fight was the very thing Jack had chosen her for. The majority of his slaves or workers were smart to fear him and not fight, but if they started in his household with bite, Jack secretly did not wish for it to leave.
The rough attack of his drinking from her blurred away as her blood flowed into his system. Jack's hands moved down the inside of the shirt along her curves. Pulling himself away, he pulled her hair and attempted to push her away from the counter. Blood dripping down his chin, he rubbed the back of his hand along his jawline and stared at her. "If you are going to fight, now would be the time to let that out. You'll get no other chances." He offered. Violence de-personalized feeding and anything that tended to happen with it, or so Jack told himself, even though in the past that had not been the case.
Raising his hand, he slapped her, trying to get her to fight back, and knowing she would not give up the chance to land hits on him. Jack was strong because of his age, fast, but this version of his punishment allowed her to rip into him as well.