Goodreads reviewer - 5 stars, "Wow wow wow, Winter stuns again with his brilliant writing."
From the Inside Flap
Taviano turned away as he identified traces of semen. The turmoil in his chest that the evidence of Paul's life produced disturbed him. If he could blush, he would.
Paul finished with his boots and socks and tugged off his bloodied T-shirt. Tossing the garments in a heap on the floor, he strode to the sink. Dressed only in low-slung corduroys, he turned on the faucet and began to scrub away dried blood on his shoulder and palm.
Taviano took in the sight of lean muscle, flexing under pale skin as Paul washed. That skin reminded him of cream. A tattoo of a tree adorned Paul's back. Its delicately drawn branches spread to his shoulders. The twisted and sturdy trunk disappeared into the mistletoe-themed boxers resting low on his hips. One side of the tree showed a splintered stump, as if someone had wrenched off a branch.
Although curious about the imagery, Taviano wondered more how that inked skin would feel under his lips. Then he wondered why he wondered. His demon's hunger for blood drove him for such long years. He'd all but forgotten what it was like to hunger for touch.