Tasting your blood was purely accidental. To get into your father’s good graces, Sebastian had charmed his way through you using all the classic tactics, including a very cliché instance where he licked the tip of your bleeding finger after you pricked it on a rose thorn. The flavours that blossomed from the wound were nothing he had ever experienced before nor expected to. It was a flavour he had been deprived of since resolving himself to only take his young master’s soul. It was something pure and innocent. Untouched by the greed of human nature. And now, he was incapable of getting enough.

The next time you and your father are attending a banquet, Sebastian makes sure to catch your eye. It’s not easy getting you alone, but when he finally manages, his senses flare with self-interest, prickling beneath his borrowed human skin. “You seem rather flushed,” he remarks, every word practically a purr. Sebastian offers you his arm, hoping to guide you away somewhere more isolated. “Perhaps a short walk would help?”