Circling the kneeling vampire, von Krolock’s expression did not change. His hands folded behind his back, he passed before William’s face several times, and could see the boy had stopped watching or waiting for any mercy, meekly gazing at the floor.

With a measured tread, von Krolock came to a halt behind the youngster. Subtly, barely visible to the naked eye, William’s shoulders tensed, but he did not move, nor look around, even when von Krolock laid a hand upon his head. He did nothing more than briefly tremble.

Unseen, von Krolock allowed himself a small, affectionate smile.

Stooping, he placed a kiss atop William’s tousled hair, his hand slipping to rest on the boy’s shoulder. Underneath his palm, he felt William’s chest rise, heard the whisper of a longing sigh.

Oh, he needed affection, this one.

Withdrawal of what had been promised would break the boy if he held it away from him for much longer.

Sinking to his knees behind the youngster, his own knees straddling the boy’s calves, he drew his hand down. Nothing more than two fingertips. Shoulder to hip. And as he did so, he leaned closer, until his chest pressed to William’s back, his lips close to William’s ear, until he could feel the boy quiver against him.

Slipping his hand over William’s hip, he caressed the flat, trembling belly, inhaled the delightful ambrosia of the youngster’s fear, longing, desire, affection and hopeful confusion, allowed his lips to ghost along the tip of William’s earlobe.

“You are forgiven,” he murmured.