Triss and Murphy's relationship was in a rather delicate place.
Murphy had confessed his feelings without reservation, hoping to start an impure relationship with Triss on the basis that they would be partners, but Triss always kept him at arm's length.
However, she wasn't deliberately trying to be some kind of player. She was simply worried that her wild past would cause trouble for Murphy. It was a kind of protectiveness toward her offspring, even though their bloodline contract had long since been dissolved.
But aside from that worry, Triss wasn't opposed to Murphy's occasional overly intimate gestures.
As she'd said herself, she didn't dislike this unusual offspring of hers. And since she hadn't outright rejected Murphy's advances, some harmless intimacy was naturally within the bounds of what she could accept.
In the office, Triss let Murphy wrap his arms around her slender waist from behind. He gently breathed in the mysterious scent in her long hair, tinged with alcohol and midnight's bounty. But his hands remained perfectly proper, never lingering where they shouldn't. He really did stay in that delicate zone between "gentlemanly" and "lecherous."
That was the limit of what Triss could accept for now. Move an inch higher or lower, and he'd be getting a psychic blast to the face.
The good news was that beneath Murphy's young vampire body hid a soul that was anything but immature. This sly man of the world understood the principle that "haste makes waste." He wasn't just playing around with this relationship; he was serious about it, and so he had more than enough patience.
Old men knew that a delicious meal shouldn't be wolfed down. It had to be savored slowly to bring out its full sweetness.
"Behave yourself. I'm talking business."
Triss said helplessly.
"Go ahead. I'm listening."