It's one of the oldest rituals, the deepest mysteries, used to bond vampires together. The exchange of blood, life into death pumped by the vampire heart, sharing one's essence, the core of their being, a baring of throat to another's teeth the ultimate vulnerability and submission. Armand glories in it, grateful, letting himself go into the cycle of blood from throat to heart to throat to heart, stretching back beyond the mortal who died to give Louis this blood, beyond himself and Louis, to the throats and hearts of their makers, of their makers' makers, all the way back into the darkest ages.

He arcs up into Louis' arms, half undressed and hard against Louis' thigh, drinking deep. Then, before he can take too much, he pulls back with a physical wrench. Licks his teeth and his lips and gazes, full of adoration, at Louis. Without speaking, he lifts his hand, offering his wrist towards his companion. Eyes shining with the renewal of their connection.

"Take from me, my love. And then you can take me. Everything I have. Everything I am."