The duke's gaze remained fixed on Clint, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the faint violet creeping along the skin of his neck, the telltale sign of the venom spreading.
His jaw tightened, and without another word, he leaned down, He tilted Clint's head slightly to the side, his breath warm against the fevered skin, before pressing his lips against the wound.
His sharp canines grazed the edges of the bite as he began to draw the venom out, the faint, metallic tang of blood mixing with the bitter burn of the toxin.
Meanwhile, Clint felt a sharp, stinging pain in his neck, forcing his eyes to flutter open.
His vision was blurry, the soft outline of the infirmary ceiling coming into view before he turned his head slightly to the side.
His eyes widened instantly. Someone was at his neck too close, far too close and when the blur cleared, he recognized the familiar white hair. His mind raced, realizing exactly what was happening.
