The muscles shift under the blade, the skin reddening just a bit in its wake. It's a light sting, one Nathaniel welcomes, and his eyes never leave Asher's face.

And his arousal never wilts.

He almost expects, once the blade comes to rest there on his stomach, that Asher will move with the quickness vampires have -- a quickness faster than even a lycanthrope -- and sink the blade into his gut, just to hear him scream.