Vampires were different masters to weres. Both could bite you, but only one of them did it with the sole purpose of feeding on your blood. Darcy had been taught that by his parents, before Kazuo had taken an interest in him and his fate still hung in the balance; they wanted to prepare him for whatever master he might get.
Now he was owned by a vampire, and yet he'd never been bitten. Romain had nibbled him a little, scraped his fangs against Darcy's skin, but they'd never sunk in. He'd hoped, in encouraging his master to graze his neck, that the vampire might bite; even if it hurt, at least he'd know his master wanted him, that his blood was just as pleasing to Romain as his body.
It seemed to have worked.
Darcy slipped out of his clothes and put them away as his master moved to the bed. He took out his clips and hair tie, shaking his blond hair loose and smoothing it down in the mirror before joining Romain.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked over his shoulder at his master. "I've never been bitten before," Darcy admitted. "I hope it doesn't hurt too much..."