"There's no shame in scars," Severin said. "They just show us where we've been, but don't tell us where we're going."
Severin wrapped a hand around the back of Sonny's neck, eased him closer. He caught Sonny's dark eyes and dove in, pushing past the initial, reflexive protest of his mind. When he had Sonny, Severin smiled at him.
"There we go," he murmured. "You're mine, now."
He kissed the corner of Sonny's mouth, the corner of his jaw, then came to the line of his throat. Sonny smelled so good, young, healthy man. Severin kissed Sonny's throat, felt the rush of blood just beneath the skin. He could hear the sound of air in his lungs, the thump of his heart. Intoxicating.
Severin still had Sonny's mind, and as he nuzzled at warm skin, he pushed yes and pleasure into his mind before opening his mouth, his fangs sliding into place with an almost sexual pleasure. There. Severin bit down. There was a moment of resistance, like biting into a ripe plum, before tasting sweet flesh. Severin made a sound of pleasure as blood flooded across his tongue. His free hand went to the small of Sonny's back and pulled him closer.