Through Rose's eyes, Dante was transfixed, and he watched in hair-raising dismay while Lord Thorn's clumsy fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, eventually exposing his neck for Rose to drink.
It was harrowing to watch Christopher undress before him and offer his flesh. His heart raced, and his breathing was heavy as Dante was overcome with panic.
He would prefer to feel the indescribable pain of being torn apart by a pack of wild dogs while still alive than drink this seraph's filthy sacred blood. With a rising sense of dread, the Count's pulse pounded in his ears as he looked for a way out of this mess.
"This is the last warning I will give Lord Thorn. LET-ME-GO!" Dante heard Rose's voice demand as he spoke.
Christopher fixed his gaze on Rose. His heated stare was unwavering. His patience had been tested beyond its limits by her incessant prattle, and he was utterly exhausted, no longer sure of how to handle his tiny Lark squirming in his arms.
