Page 173 of Vampire so Virtuous

He grinned. “You’re a marked chattel. Lines aren’t in your future.”

So that answered that question.No signs of ageing and long-lived, if not truly immortal. A daunting thought.

And that was just as a marked chattel—beforeshe took into account her bond with Antoine.

“No,” he continued casually, wringing out the cloth and wiping at her shoulder again. “Actually, I was thinking how attractive it looked.”

She tensed.

He drew back and raised his hands. “I apologize for observing your beauty out loud. I didn’t mean to offend. All my future thoughts on the matter I’ll keep to myself.”

She gave a short laugh and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say to you, Mr. Vampire. You disarm me at every turn.”

“I’m reasonably certain you still have a blade in your pocket.”

“Am I going to need it?”

“It will do you no good,” he said with great drama, flourishing the scalpel his thralls had supplied. “I have my own.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Mine’s bigger,” she said dryly.

“It’s how you use it,” he said, deadpan.

She couldn’t help her smile. “I give up. You win. Do what you need to do with your…weapon.”

He inclined his head in victory. “You’re still going to feel this, by the way. It shouldn’t hurt, but I’ll need to cut and probe, and you’ll feel a tugging inside that will be uncomfortable.”

“All right. I’m ready.”

He felt for the bullet with a gentle touch, then made an incision. He pushed in the forceps, and she turned her head away, not wanting to see. It felt as strange as he’d said—discomfort, but little pain. Still, it made her wince.

“Hurting?”

“Not much.”

He nodded. “On a human, the anesthetic would last several hours. But your rapid healing means we get several minutes, instead.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” She hoped it wouldn’t get worse. She didn’t want to show more weakness.

“Got it,” he said, then added, “Want to see?”

“Not particularly.”

There was a dull thunk as he dropped it on the coffee table, but she saw when he licked his fingers.

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” He gave her a bashful look. “Very tasty, though.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“Er… busted.” He damped the cloth again and pressed it to her wound, then leaned over her with the needle and thread. The tip of his tongue protruded between his lips as he concentrated. It made him seem almost human, and she dwelled on that instead of the pain.

At last, he was done, and again he licked his fingers. “Perks of the job,” he said, unapologetically.

She shook her head in resignation. “You’re worse than Antoine, which is saying something.”

“And yet, I take it as a compliment.”

He pressed a cottonwool pad to her shoulder, then asked her to sit up as he bandaged it. “All finished. Good as new.”