"It won't happen again," Hermes promised. If Carrick went after the angel again, he'd be going after an actual angel and the fae had done his level best to try to protect his Master no matter how much the vampire seemed keen on considering ripping his heart out with his bare hands.
He closed his eyes, forehead pressing against the Spartan's shoulder as he arched into that touch, his hair just as sensitive as it had been before if not slightly moreso. "No, my lord." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "If I were to guess, I'd blame the angel, but that might just be because I don't like him very much and blaming him seems a better option than...deciding that there's some serious fault in me that'll only make you have to dispose of a pretty little liability sooner."
He'd had a whole week to come up with different ways to hate himself while in his apparently not so self-imposed exile. In the face of his own punishment, nothing Carrick could come up with would compare, thrashing or not.