The angel bowed his head, holding the position Carrick put him in as well as he could. He bowed his head for the vampire, forcing his breathing even as the collar settled around his throat. That was definitely getting turned to ashes the minute he could.
He'd gotten ever so slightly hard with the contact to his cock, though it was starting to fade already now that attention had been drawn away from it. Carrick would have to work some for it. Not much, of course. His body seemed to respond to the smallest untoward thought.
"This is the angel?" came a voice from across the room. "Tiny little slip of a thing isn't he? For some reason I expected him to be...grander." To his credit, Samandriel didn't look to see who was there. He considered it, of course, but he wasn't going to take chances.
The voice moved with soft footsteps, someone clearly used to going intentionally unnoticed. "So much anger, little seraph. All that hate and loathing. How do you manage to carry it? You've not got the shoulders for it. Shame you stepped out of line enough that someone ruined that lovely back of yours."