James, Paxton, and that sneaky little sloth demon
Paxton crouched by his brother, a stern look on his face. His hand, however, grabbed Davian by the chin, inspecting his face, his neck. There'd be bruises, but no terribly damage. Good. Paxton could forgive a lot when it came to James, but killing his little brother would cause... friction.
There was more than one way to kill a vampire, after all.
"Idiot," Paxton said, letting go of Davian. What kind of demon would stumble upon perfect blackmail material like this and then give himself away. "You can't breathe a word of this to anyone. Not to your boyfriend, not to your friends, not to a stranger. To no one. Understood?"