"We'll have to change that, love," Byron responded, knowing it would only irritate the Scot more.
Duncan's bleeding heart made him easy prey for Byron's amusements. The derogatory word constantly falling from his lips nothing more than that a guttural sound Duncan made to act tough. The heat of anger pouring off the man made Byron want to know how far he could go before bringing the man to a boil.
"Than vampires and shifters must be natures tornados of personal battle." Byron laughed. "Oh, I was amongst the last several wars they were quite delicious."
Byron looked after the knife with a shrug. Many knives hid around his person in special pockets for the shows. What could be better than two fighting knife throwers for the interest of bloated, detached human audiences? Byron might have stepped into Duncan's show once or twice for just that display of presence. It had gone over well, and if no one knew anything else about Byron, they knew he was a great showman.
"Always so aggressive, your kind, nothing more than your Viking ancestors I suppose." Still a darker smile slipped over Byron's lips, his mask tucked away for those it would work on. Bright blue eyes slowly moved over the Scot's body. "Are you going to hit me, love?"