There's a sense of finally being a complete ecosystem. A closed circuit that was previously missing a connection ring. Tranquility somewhere even in the midst of a vortex of devouring hunger and the different-pleasure-than-pleasure. Is it arousal? A high? Something else, something beyond it? It must be. There's the blood, and it's the blood of another vampire, and it's a vampire with depth enough to drown in, and it's his maker. The bond between them doesn't feel like a string of fate, from here, but a pool they're both standing in, and he doesn't need to dig in and discover any of his secrets because they both exist here in the same biome, and anything aside from that is irrelevant.

Daniel, in a voice that should be saying Mr Molloy. A light touch.

It's like—

Then, but then was fine, too, in its way.

He doesn't have Louis' experience or Catholic vegetarian willpower. He does have an addict's history, and an ingrained, if old, fail-safe protocol to just fucking listen if someone tells him he looks like he's about to OD. That's the emergency button he hits for this, even though the process of withdrawing certainly takes longer than he thinks it does. Armand can see him start when it does, though, his touch getting firmer as though steadying himself, eventually shaking through him to lifting his head away from the elder's wrist. Blinking, swaying.

Blood on his mouth, eyes bright. Whatever color they are, it's currently a perfect mirror to Armand's.