The vampire's fingers drew Samandriel's chin up to face him, then continued the slow sweep of fingertips over the pale skin. His hands were almost leisurely, taking his time to explore and caress, as if he were committing every line of the slave's body to memory.
"And what do you think I see, Samandriel?" He hardly cared what the angel's existing Master saw. Nothing mattered at this moment except possessing this perfect, beautiful boy.