Ambrogio had risen, holding the same knife he had used to cut his palms. Then he cut his left wrist with it as if he felt no pain at all. I had seen thick dark blood welling out of the slit. The blood was almost black and flowed like syrup. He’d yanked my head back with his right hand and placed the bleeding wrist against my lips. That was before the gag went on...
I wouldn't. Like a child avoiding something it hated, I had closed my mouth tightly and shut my eyes, refusing him. I didn't have to breathe through my mouth or nose. I could breathe through my wings, even if they were inside my back, and so no need for oxygen would force me to drink a vampire’s blood. I had kept my lips closed, fighting nausea, feeling his cold blood making the skin around my mouth burn.
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