He didn't try to escape those terrible teeth. It seemed he was willing to take things all the way this time, that if not letting go this time meant sacrificing himself, he would do it. She had said he hadn't tried hard enough--he wasn't going to let it be said a second time. So he relinquished the control he hand earned for himself, grasping her about the waist to drag her with him as he moved, so she was the one pressing him against the cool floor. And then both is hands were free, sliding up against the bare skin of her spine, a featherlight brush of calloused fingers, too rough for a man who was supposed to spend his days on a computer, moreso now that he was practicing that old profession again. He had changed in those three years.
But when he spoke her name, it was him. Just him. There was no demand, no plea for her to stop. Just that one word, in that way of his, as if it were something sacred, some exquisite prayer. Olivia.
The hand that had assaulted her hair gentled to a caress, firm but not bruising, sliding against her jaw.
His mentor had lost for the same reason, for a woman he had loved. It had cost him his humanity--he'd been turned. It was the only vampire Andrew had ever trusted entirely. And for the first time, he truly understood the sacrifice.