Page 87 of Amethyst and Iron
The blood splatter across his face was mostly from his opponents, aside from the slash down his left cheek which was slowly healing. I could sense a scrape down his right calf too bleeding beneath his jeans.
“Your healing factor is compromised. Are you aware of this? Or do you believe it’s normal?”
“Victor mentioned it… ridiculed it, actually. I thought because of my age it was just how it was.”
“You don’t spend time around vampires so that makes a great deal of sense. You are also not just a regular vampire. Ancient blood runs in your veins. The fact that your durability is so great and, honestly, off the charts, already proves that.”
I reached out and grasped his arm, noting that he didn’t tense, not like the first time I’d reached out to touch him with affection.
He let it land and gazed up at me.
“As for what that filth said to you, bear in mind that every word out of his mouth was calculated and spoken with twistedintent, to elicit specific reactions in you. He doesnotsee you, Lazriel. Don’t grant him power that doesn’t belong to him.”
“I don’t want to grant that motherfucker anything,” he snarled.
I chuckled. “Very nice.”
“Wow,” he said, eyes shooting wide.
“What is it?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“I didn’t think you could actually laugh.”
“Well, I have to admit, itisa rarity.”
A knock at the door had him blinking and tensing once again.
“Come in, Arthur.”
“You can tell who it is through that reinforced steel door and the concrete walls?”
“Yes. So can you. Unfortunately, you are using your wolf to subdue the vampire, because adrenaline and the thrill of the fight has you on edge and fearful that the vampire will lose control if you do not.”
“How do you—”
“It’s how you are able to feed from an Immortal without turning rabid, when you have only just recently experienced the intoxicating sensations associated with such potent blood.” I gestured at his wounds, even though he had since dropped his shirt back down to cover them. “It’s also a large part of the reason why your healing factor is compromised.”
The door opened then and Arthur walked in, his many golden chains, rings, and earrings, glinting harshly in the fluorescent light, a stark contrast to the all-black ensemble I had all my agents wear. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail that extended halfway down his back. He held two long-stemmed glasses filled to the brim with blood.
I walked to him and he handed them over. “Sire.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled, then lifted his chin at Lazriel. “We meet again.”
“Arthur is your name?” Lazriel asked.
“Certainly is. It’s nice to have you with us.”
With that, he took his leave.
“He’s one of the guys you had watching my back.”
“Yes. He’s a highly-trusted and deeply accomplished agent. He’s been with me for centuries. I wouldn’t assign anything less than the best to guard that which is most precious to me.”
