He was wearing a pair of sweat pants and nothing else. Fed on that warm, living power, fed on the sensation of being deeper inside Micah's body than I'd ever been inside any man's before. Confused, fucked-up, bruised, but not cute. When he dropped the knife, I thought I'd been wrong about seeing the knife in the other vamp's chest, but no, the bastard had stabbed him and had plenty of knives left.
I said, We're trying to find our friend. I, on the other hand, had a problem. Damian was molded against my back, but the moment I pulled away from Nathaniel, his eager hands slowed. We'd tuck Nathaniel in somewhere, and Jean-Claude and I planned on a nice, hot bath.
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