There's a soft huff of breath out his nose, the predatory instinct rising up in him. Logically, reasonably, there's no need to do it. He can foresee the flack he could get for it, but, well ... He can always heal the bite. Just as he'd done with Louis decades ago after that first taste, there was nothing there that gave anything away.

Un petit coup.

Lestat noses down the length of Neal's neck, inhaling the scent of him before his fangs pierce the skin. It's brief, just enough to give Neal the high he's so clearly after and to leave him feeling light-headed but little more.

Don't say he never does anything for you, Neal.