A sunken hot tub riddled with jets sat in her master bathroom. She enjoyed the room decorated in her favorite colors. Purple to rival her violet eyes and silver. She often enjoyed a warm whirlpool of water rushing around her. This one she needed. Pain riddled her side with each breath where Uri’s blazing bolt had slammed into her rib cage. Bastard. Her mind could not wrap around his thinking she’d harm him in any way. She only maintained distance from Uri to prevent Michael or the Father from hurting him. Mort ached to have him and it ate at her. No better than Uri, in years past she had sated her needs with many. A predilection for dark-haired vampyres and their lust for blood ran hot in her veins. That’s why she enjoyed Uri’s bites. He’d had many trysts and she was aware of each and every one. She could recite shape and size. Not all were human or angel—his taste varied greatly—but they all possessed pale hair. She had hoped Uri would find a being to mesh with so she could be free from the constant desire that even now pulsed through her.