The next night, Gabriel follows Ravi home. He can’t help himself. Before the sun comes up, he stalks the streets, always keeping in the shadows so that Ravi never spots him, never even suspects he’s being followed. For a brief moment, Gabriel considers grabbing him right there on the street, draining him dry, relishing in the exquisite taste of his blood. 

He can smell him from here, smell the ambrosial blood coursing through his veins, a savory temptation like none he’s ever encountered before. His attraction grows stronger every night, every passing moment. What he wouldn’t give to bite into Ravi and release that delicious nectar. Have it dribble across his tongue, lapping it up, wasting no precious drop.

But he doesn’t. He won’t. 

He refuses to end Ravi’s life, not when the thought of something more is so tempting. He remembers the way his master had looked at him when they were first getting to know one another, the way Tristan’s eyes would follow him, his throat swallowing back against some invisible hunger. A hunger for Gabriel’s blood. 

The same hunger he now feels for Ravi.

He knows what this is. 

Thrilling and terrifying at the same time. 

He feels the connection. The draw. 

The pull that his master felt for him.