Upon hearing the female voice speak to him through the barrier of the door, Ambrose was hit with a feeling of guilt. He did not like to deceive and yet he had lured his victim to her death with false words. The feminine lilt of her voice only made matters worse as it reminded him that he was to kill a woman, something he despised doing even more than deception. He pushed his hesitations from his mind, telling himself that these were the types of problems that came with his line of work. She was a target, nothing more. He was going to hell anyways, what was one more female victim going to do?<i>Bring me more pain,</i>he thought. But that was something he deserved to feel.<br/><br/>From inside the room, he heard faint steps nearing the door, and then the sound of chains rattling around, which must be the locks that were keeping him from entering. When she opened the door at last, she was greeted with his imposing figure. His icy blue eyes the only feature on his face that could be seen through the mask, and they lacked any emotion as they had for years now. It took him only seconds to conclude that she was the princess he was sent to kill. Long dark hair, bright blue eyes, lovely skin. A sight to behold. Not that her beauty meant anything to him. He had become immune to the sight of beautiful women long ago as he knew he would never be able to have them.<br/><br/>Ambrose watched her in silence as she took in the dead guard now slumped in the chair. When her watery eyes came to rest on him and she took a step back, he prepared himself to lunge for her before she could cry for help or attempt to escape. She surprised him when she did neither and instead threatened him in a normal tone. He had seen grown men,<i>rulers</i>, beg for mercy. Yet here she was in an entirely vulnerable position and she was not frightened in the slightest. He was impressed by her courage, but his eyes did not give this away.<br/><br/>"Your words do not frighten me, princess. " he said from behind his mask, his words smoother now that he had reverted back to his original accent. "Death comes for us all. Personally, I welcome the fiery pits of hell that await me, can think of no better fate than receiving the endless existence of torture and suffering that I deserve. " He flexed his hands that were still bare of his gloves in preparation for what he was about to do. "Fortunately for you, you have earned my respect with your show of bravery and can now die an honorable death. You should also take comfort in the fact that you will be going to a much more pleasant place than I."<br/><br/>It was not common for him to speak to his victims in a manner such as this, but he felt that he owed it to the princess to at least let her know that he appreciated her courage. In the blink of an eye, he was directly in front of her with his hand reaching for her face.  "Be still," he whispered. "It will only hurt for a moment." He rested his hand along the side of her face, a lover's caress, but one that promised death. His eyes slid closed as he waited for her body to go limp and fall to the ground. Seconds passed by and she had not fallen, and her skin was... warm. Not the lifeless cold he was used to. He waited a moment longer before he opened his eyes in confusion. She was still alive, no black marks forked along her skin. He ripped his hand away from her as though she had burned him. Why was she not dead? No one survived his touch before. Still confused, he grabbed her face in both hands more forcefully making sure she would not be able to escape even if she clawed at his arms or kicked him. He waited again, this time for about ten seconds. Nothing. The realization of what this meant had him in awe and his heart beating out of his chest.<br/><br/>"I-I can touch you." he rasped, his voice thick with longing. His hands relaxed and he smoothed them down her cheeks, nearly shuddering at the contact. He continued to trace her face and then reached down to touch her hands. Her skin was so soft, so delightfully smooth. Suddenly, a wicked thought filled his mind and he ripped his off his mask, revealing his face. Ambrose then leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, groaning at the contact before pulling away quickly in case she tried to bite him. His mind was filled with many chaotic thoughts, but one overpowered them all. He must have her.<br/><br/>Killing her was out of the question, even though he had daggers that could do the job well enough. He would not murder the one person in the world he could touch. No, he would take her back to his manor where she would stay with him. He could not bear the thought of parting with her, not when she had given him his first glimpse of hope in years. He was nearly breathless when he said, "You will come with me, you must." It was likely that he would have to knock her out, and then carry her. It did not matter to him what he had to do as long as she came with him.