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There’s not much of a difference when it comes to draining a mortal and a vampire, except that he must ensure that Anthony loses his head, as Lauren?iu lost his after he was staked.
Which isn’t a problem; frenzied, he digs his fangs so deeply in Anthony’s neck, bending the head back and ripping through, that he decapitates him.
Paimon and Adrian join him, too, burrowing into Anthony’s wrists as the body crumples, and they’re on the floor tearing into him together. They are a horrid mess, drenched in blood and feeding long after Anthony’s heart has stopped.
Once it’s done, Lauren?iu stares until he sees nothing.
By Lauren?iu’s side, Paimon murmurs, "You did so well, dear."
Many arms grasp him then, in an especially bloody group hug. Even Daisy comes to lap at his cheek.
After Anthony is nothing more than a smear on the carpet, Lauren?iu sobs to Paimon, “I'm sorry I asked you to leave. Please stay with me.”
Paimon soothes a hand in circles on his back. “There’s nowhere else I'd rather be. Do you want me to wash you?”
Lauren?iu rasps, “Yes.”
With that, while Adrian starts to eat what remains of Anthony’s heart, Paimon helps him up, but Lauren?iu’s legs buckle despite his reinvigorated strength from feeding. Catching him, Paimon swoops an arm under Lauren?iu’s knees and picks him up, carrying him to the bath, where they sit together.
For the next few hours, Lauren?iu rests in the guest bedroom, collecting his thoughts, eyes drawn to the back cover ofWe Were the Mulvaneys, with a black-and-white photograph of Joyce Carol Oates bearing down on him from a bookshelf.
He sleeps, and when he wakes up, Paimon sits by his side.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good.” He means it. “I...I can feel the rest of my life stretching before me.”
Reaching to palm the hair from Lauren?iu’s face, Paimon gives a smile that sends a pang into Lauren?iu’s heart. “I...are we...will we...am I going back to Hell?”
A sad look. Unguarded. A fresh wound between them. “Would it be so terrible to be by my side forever?”
Oh. If only he knew that Lauren?iu wanted that before he even knew he wanted it. When he needed to tell himself it was all about power and nothing more; yes, it was about power partially because you take what you can get in Hell, but also...
“We could never truly be equals.” Then again, even those at the top need love. They just need a mutual understanding.
“We could.”
“What do you mean? You’re the king. I’m a sinner promoted to favourite. It’s certainly better than many have, but it’s not where I’d like to be.”
“I hear you. I could always give you more control over the court. You could, if you wanted, be my king consort.”
Lauren?iu blinks in disapproval. “Is that a marriage proposal?”
Paimon says slowly, after some thought, “It can be, if you wanted it to be.”
And Lauren?iu, ever the one to notice details, replies, “Wouldn’t the proper name of the position be ‘prince consort’?”
Paimon gives a soft smile and shrugs. He reaches out, and without his usual hesitation, Lauren?iu takes his hand. It’s very warm. “We in Hell aren’t exactly terribly worried about the difference between different fancy titles. Besides, we’re from Hell, not England. Either way, it looks and sounds good.”
“What about Adrian?”
“They could be a prince. It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of titles to go around.”
Lauren?iu says for clarification, “A Prince of Hell, you mean.”
“That’s precisely what I mean. Prince. Whatever title they want, really. There are enough Circles and courts to throw around titles. Plenty of legions to command.”
“Even while still alive?”
