The vampire's voice raised slightly, a flare of anger in his usually inexpressive voice. "It made me strong. It made me worthy of the gift of immortality. I have no bitterness towards them." His hands closed tighter on Hermes' own. "You were maimed, tormented, used.... for no reason other than your masters' own desires. That's where our lives were different. With me there was always a purpose. To destroy the weakness inherent in all mortals; to burn it out and temper me into a living weapon for the glory of Sparta."
He turned Hermes' hand over, his fingers tracing the lines of the boy's palm, stroking along the fingers that had been snapped and mangled by the Duchess and her lackeys.
"I wish I knew how to help you, little bird." he said softly. "But I don't. I could hunt down everyone who ever harmed you... but how many of them were paying me to have you in their beds?"
He looked into Hermes eyes. "I want what I have always wanted. You."