"Still so arrogant," Carrick stated. "Still thinking that a pair of wings means you're superior to all of us who are earthbound."
His hand dipped casually into his trouser pocket as he spoke, fingers closing around a single match he found there. He palmed it as his hand withdrew.
His eyes raked over Samandriel's body, "I see you've removed your collar. Has your Master set you free? He doesn't know you at all, does he? He probably still doesn't know how much you loved being bound and cut and fucked like the lying little whore you are."
With a quick, sharp movement, Crrick flicked his thumbnail against the match. It flared into life. Not taking his eyes from the angel, he tossed the match to the ground, and a tongue of eager flame leaped up from the oil poured over the flagstones, racing in a circle and trapping the angel in a ring of fire.