This was what Carrick lived for - this thrill at the moments that came before submission was granted; this promise of pleasures to come when when youth and beauty allowed mingled lust and fear to wash over them; when a beating heart thumped against his chest and mortal breath gasped from warm lips.
Carrick closed his eyes, letting the blood rush through him, warming him from within. Finally, he licked his lips and opened his eyes, the black fading away to be replaced with the usual pale and icy grey. He finally let go of Alcuin's wrist. The arm around the slave's waist loosened a little, though he kept the boy in his embrace.
"A child of the Fallen," he murmured, a rare note of surprise in his tone. He gathered his composure and looked into Alcuin's eyes steadily. "The Yeshuites say your kind were abandoned on Earth by the very God your fathers served. What must it be like, I wonder, to be so lost?"
He reached up with his free hand and tilted Alcuin's chin upwards to the night sky, where the moon shone with cold beauty. "Look at the Moon. Whenever I see it, I know that Artemis is still with me."