And there would be time to sink his teeth into another source later.
In truth, he hated feeding. Unlike the Bloodletter, he got no thrill from forcing himself upon women and females - and God knew, none of them had ever come willingly unto him.
He supposed he owed his life to prostitutes.
As someone else started to orgasm again, this time one of his soldiers - Throe, if he had to guess - he imagined himself with a different face, a handsome face, a comely face that summoned females rather than sent them screaming.
Mayhap he should be removing his own spine.
But that was the beauty of inner thoughts. No one had to know your weaknesses.
And once you'd finished dwelling on them, you could toss them into the mental trash bin they belonged in.
Chapter Eighteen
Qhuinn had never been good at waiting. And that was when shit was going okay. Considering he'd just lied twice about where John Matthew was?
Not a happy camper.
As he loitered at the hidden door by the grand staircase - so he could duck into the tunnel if anyone came by - he had the best view of the foyer you could get. Which meant when the vestibule's door opened, he got an eyeball full of his absolutely favorite couple: Blay and Saxton.
He should have known his luck wouldn't have had it otherwise.
Blay held the way open, like the gentlemale he was, and as Saxton stepped through, the bastard tossed a lingering, half-lidded stare over his shoulder.
Man, that kind of "look" was worse than the pair of them sucking face in public.
No doubt they'd been out for a nice meal and then gone back to Saxton's place for a little play of the sort that was hard to have here in the mansion. Total privacy was not something you could find on a bet around the compound -
As Blay removed his Burberry coat, his silk button-down pulled wide, and showed off a bite mark on his neck. And on his collarbone.
God only knew where else he had them. . . .
Abruptly, Saxton said something that made Blay blush, and the slightly shy, reserved laugh that followed made Qhuinn want to throw the fuck up.
Great, so the slut was a comedian, and Blay liked his jokes.
Fantastic.
Yup.
On that note, Saxton went up the stairs. Blay, on the other hand, came around the -
Shit. Qhuinn wheeled away and lunged for the door, hands scrambling to get the latch free.
"Hi. "
Qhuinn's hands stilled. His body stilled. His heart. . . stilled.
That voice. That soft, deep voice he'd heard nearly all his life.
Straightening his spine, he fucked off the escape idea, turned around, and faced his former best friend like the male he was. "Hi. Have a good night?"
Shit, he wanted to take that one back. As if the guy hadn't?
"Yes, and you?"
"Yeah. Good. John and I went out. He's back now, and we're going to go hit the weight room. He's getting changed. "