The Immortal Prince
Hale says uncomfortably.
Larsen's deep green gaze pins me, as he methodically rolls up his dark sleeves, revealing a sight that has my mouth drying with horror.
His forearms are tainted by dark lines of pure black streaking upwards towards his elbows, exactly where his veins should be. The stain of colour is more concentrated around his wrists, branching out more sparsely up his arm.
"Lovely to meet you," he purrs, sensing my mortification as he holds his hand out.
Hale grabs Larsen's arm before he can extend it too far, yanking it backward.