Page 77 of Smoke and Blood

He wasn’t deviant enough to touch her inappropriately while he bathed her intimately, and she was unaware, but he wasn’t a fucking saint, either.A vampire’s lust was exponential, and there was no way he could see such golden-brown and pink beauty and not pant for the moment she was fully recovered, and he could spend hours tasting her and bringing her to glory again and again.

When her front side was clean, he carefully rolled her over and handled the length of her back just as efficiently.Once finished, he removed the damp towels and placed her on her back again but shifted her further to the middle of the bed, and this time, he dragged a sheet over her.

Just as he started picking up the bowl of clear water and taking it to the bathroom, his hearing picked up on the sound of the prime’s footsteps on the stairs.Humans walked so heavily.However, she was right on time, and he was grateful for Maeve’s punctuality.

He dumped the water in the sink and placed the bowl on the counter.In a blink, he was at the door before the prime had an opportunity to knock.However, as soon as he placed his hand on the brass knob, he knew Maeve was not alone.

“Good morning, Amaros.”

He eyed his second-in-command, who stood beside the prime.

“Marceline, what are you doing here?It is daylight hours.Shouldn’t you be in bed exhausted under a pile of three prime males right now and drifting into sleep?”he kept his tone neutral as he accepted only the ornately-carved, crystal carafe of warm blood from the tray Maeve held and left the goblet.

“Um.”She fingered the sash of her long silk robe and held his gaze.“I was headed to do just that when I noticed Maeve returning down after I’d prepared her for you.”

Instead of answering Marceline, Amaros brought the carafe to his lips and drank, deep and heavy, until he gulped down all the fresh, warm blood.He wasn’t thirsty or hungry, not after consuming all of Michaela's blood.

What he’d consumed until the angel awoke was all for her.He’d gorge himself with enough blood to feed the beast she would become.If he didn’t have enough to satisfy Michaela’s hunger, he’d have to restrain her, or she'd tear through the place, ripping out prime and servant throat to slack her hunger lust.She’d be mindless with it and would have no other choice, and when she came to her senses, she could fall into a newly turned vampiric depression, a sickness that usually only had one way out of death.

Once the heavy-cut glass was empty and only painted inside by the thick blood that was once there, he set it back on the tray.

Marceline’s brow arched high as she watched him, assessing.

“That will be all for now, Maeve.”He dismissed the prime.

“Why drink from the pig when the perfect snack is before you?”She fingered the prime’s long, red hair from scalp to ends.

The female stood still until Marceline dropped her hand back to her side.The prime had sense enough not to stand between the will of two vamps.Maeve mumbled a ‘thank you, Sire’ and then hustled quickly away with her tray.

“I wasn’t in the mood.”Amaros started to step back.

“Not in the mood?”Marceline scoffed as she dragged her hair over one of her slender shoulders.“Even when you’re an ancient, you will be in the mood.Just nothing you can do about it then.”

“As much as I have enjoyed this exchange, I must go.”

“Wait.”

“Good night.”He purposely forced his words out with finality as he shut his door.

He glanced toward Michaela, taking in her golden-brown beauty just because he could.Dragging his gaze away, he returned to the bathroom to clean up, grabbed a book off his shelf, and read while waiting for his next container of blood to be delivered.

He hadn’t been in the bathroom more than a moment or two when he knew someone had trespassed into his inner sanctuary.

In a flash, he was out of his room, throwing his body full force into the intruder’s and carrying them across the room.A dark-red haze filled his vision as he slammed the person into the wall.“What the fuck are you doing in my room without permission, Marceline!”he roared.

Besides the place he held Marceline, The Jewish Brideby Rembrandt shifted and tilted precariously from where it hung on the wall, the painting jolted by the impact of him slamming Marceline into the thick wall.

His vice’s lips moved, but no sound came out because his hand squeezed tight around her throat as his nails dug deep into the muscles and tendons there.

A human.How is she here?Her body shook from the pain of his restraint.

Amaros didn’t care, and he didn’t let up.“You think you have the right to question me.You crossed a fucking line.”

The veins in her neck and along her temple bulged from the blood flow trapped by his fierce hold.His blood ran hot.He could kill his friend of centuries for her audacity.He wondered if Marceline’s mind flashed back to the last time they fought and what he had done to her.Did her body ache with pain in remembrance?He hoped to hell it did because if she ever stepped out of line again where Michaela was concerned, he wouldn’t bat an eyelash in killing his second in command.

One thing all vampires knew was that killing someone’s mate was the surest way to weaken them, and if they were weak, they could be defeated.So, Amaros would always protect Michaela with his life.Always.

To ensure he was getting his point across clearly, he pulled her away from the wall only to slam her against it again and grip her throat tighter.

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