Samandriel tensed over the imagery that Carrick painted for him, eyes flashing with anger that the vampire couldn't see.
And when I finish my obligation to you, when my contract is fulfilled, I will show you that not all who yield are weak or conquered.
"As you wish, my lord," he said instead, tipping towards those cold lips against his ear to look at the hand on his shoulder, managing to clutch his grace even tighter to his chest. Every fibre of his being said to break it, to smash it open and incinerate Carrick where he stood as he restored himself.