Carrick's hand reached out to stroke the back of Samandriel's neck, just above where the leather collar sat. He stayed silent for a long moment, fingertips ghosting down the pale skin to trace the scars on the angel's back.
"I've recently gained a new appreciation for the sunrise," he remarked. "But I expect I'll always be a creature of shadow. It's what I was made for."
When his fingers found the livid marks of his fang teeth left the night before, and the bruises where his kisses had left scarlet and purple blotches, he raised a finger to his mouth and pierced the pad. He held his finger out to the kneeling slave. "Let's get rid of those marks, shall we?"