Carrick turned to a table of drinks, and poured himself a half-glass of bloodwine along with a glass of water from a carafe to offer to Jenn later. He stretched out on the sofa and sat silently, toying with his glass.
Nearly ten minutes passed as he wondered what precisely the girl had done to send her Master into such a rage that he did not trust himself to punish the girl. Well, her Master was a werewolf. They were creatures of instinct, they couldn't be blamed for a lack of control any more than one of his own dogs could be blamed for tugging at the leash when they spotted a rabbit in the undergrowth. They did not have theself- discipline that had been so forcefully imposed upon him before his own turning. It didn't really matter what her transgression had been, Carrick thought to himself. Minor or major, the point was that she had displeased her Master. That was all he had to know.
"Come here, girl," he ordered. "Drink some water. You're going to need it."
Ordinarily he might have sent her to wash her face and reapply her makeup before he continued with her punishment, but he rather enjoyed the debauched and forlorn picture she presented with her mascara streaming down her face and her lipgloss smeared from sobbing. She looked exactly what she was - a contrite, humble and well-punished slavegirl.