“Por favor, señor.” Benito ran after him and begged, “Let me go with you?”
Miguel grunted and pointed to a horse. “Take that one.”
And then they were on the road to Roma.
He had no regrets. He had more women, both to feed from and for s*x, than if he’d remained on the estate, even if he’d become the stable master. And he’d spent these long years with the man he worshipped.
But now…Benito shivered. This was not well done. Miguel had been forced to retreat. And oh God, so had he! Miguel would never forgive him for that.
There was blood all over his hands from the vampyre he’d attacked, and now he idly licked the blood from his palm—waste not, want not as his mama would say—and then froze. He felt as strong as a bull! The young vampyre must have fed from the sabor. Benito had never taste
