Sora felt her head spin, and absentmindedly registered the wave of nausea washing over her, like waves lapping on a shore.

“Oh, that shocking, now was it?” Samael clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
Sora simply remained still. “What do you want with me?” her black hair draped across her shoulders like a black silk curtain. Her white eyes were blazing with several emotions; worry, anger, confusion…
“I’m surprised in Aysen’s taste for women,” he cooed. “Now that I see you up close, you’re not that bad.”
“I’m not an object,” she hissed, poison dripping from every word.
“And I suppose Aysen cares for you,” he laughed mirthlessly.
“He has never told me so,” Sora said, her elegant jaw line set. “But I believe my own feelings, and his, if they exist.”

Yet again, a hand was at her neck, pinning her to the cold stone wall.

The hateful vampire leaned in, and Sora tried to resist screwing up her face in disgust.

“This is what revolts me.”