Samandriel's skin wasn't a blank canvas, but the vampire seemed more intent than not on ignoring the long scars on his back for the time being.
The young angel caught his balance on the table as easily as he could, glad for his nakedness if only because he wouldn't be sliding around on it.
He glared up at Carrick, gripping the tabletop with fingertips squeaking as they pulled across the varnished surface. If he belonged to Carrick, the moment he had his Grace back, he'd bring down the might and power of the Host to make sure he knew that an angel was no slave.
"Are you really so eager to pay a penalty to my Master for taking what you have not been granted leave to before the appointed time?" Dangerous? Yes. Not likely to work out in his favor? Of course. But Carrick needed to know without a doubt that the contract was being taken with the utmost seriousness.