Samandriel's eyes were so soft and gentle that Carrick could hardly look away from them. The Muse's voice caressed him, the smile on the kiss-reddened lips so full of hope and light that it made him ache. "To live..." he whispered. "What is that? If I ever knew, I have forgotten. His eyes stared hopelessly up at the ceiling for a moment. "As I have forgotten so much..."
As Samndriel's hand lay softly on his chest and the gentle voice soothed him, the ancient vampire felt a heaviness clutch at his heart. It felt as though something was breaking inside of Carrick, some tender part of him that had been locked away for all these long centuries. If his body had not been so utterly under his own control, he would have wept.
He had to close his eyes for a moment.
"I've... " He paused, and swallowed. "I don't remember it. The smell of the olive trees. I know I used to love it - the scent of the olive groves - but the only scents that mean anything to me now are blood and sweat and the smell of sex." His eyes were full of anguish. "I've lost so much, Samandriel."
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pulled the slave close to him in a fierce embrace, lips burying themselves in the blond hair.