Carrick's keen grey gaze tracked the slave as he crossed the room and knelt before him. This was everything he had wanted. He'd waited for this since the moment he first saw the slave and known what he was. This moment, when the boy's head was lowered and his voice soft with reverence. He wanted to draw it out, make it last in his memory. He let his gaze play over the slim form, the enticing bare skin at the back of Samandriel's neck, the grace with which he knelt in seemingly complete submission.
"Your music..." Carrick said in Greek, his voice soft with genuine feeling. "It was exquisite."