“Gracious, stop shaking. He’ll lambaste me for distressing you.” I shook the memories off as well as her hands. “I’m not going to run off and tattle to Raphael.” The thought was preposterous. Amalthea took a long drag of her tea, her smallest finger extended as she dipped the cup back. “It’ll hardly matter, dear. He’ll know. He drank your blood, after all.”
