---
Wrong because Sekhmet had spent too long learning to keep his body as a fortress. Right because the blood oath wanted closeness. It wanted certainty. It wanted reinforcement.
He counted their swallows.
One. Two. Three.
He could feel their hunger easing. He could also feel the greed behind hunger. Not their greed. Blood's greed. The ancient instinct that whispered: take more, take everything, fill yourself until you become a storm.
That instinct was what ruined new vampires. It made them feral. It made them careless.
Sekhmet's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Enough," he said.
It was not a shout. It was not a gentle request. It was a command spoken with calm authority.
Vera and Vela froze instantly.
Their mouths released him with a soft sound, a wet click that made the room feel too intimate. A thin line of blood ran down his neck, warm and bright.
