Before I can even gasp, I’m aggressively dragged, my chin scraping along the rough pavement, nails scraping uselessly for purchase.
An agonized scream tears from my throat, the stitches in my lips ripping, and fresh blood floods my mouth.
Gotcha.A cruel voice echoes directly through my mind as I’m smothered in darkness, and lifted off the ground.
Blended seamlessly with the shadows in the corner of the dark room, I observe her.
The human lies limp on the bed, vulnerable and unaware, her long black hair spilling across the pillow and her porcelain-like skin.
Only the faint rise and fall of her chest betrays that she still lives.
But I can hear everything.
Her steady heartbeat pulses in my ears like a soft, tempting drum, and every breath she draws booms through me as if it were my own.
Slow, fragile and deliciously alive.
A deep, hungry rumble builds deep in my chest, my black veins throbbing beneath my skin, eager to reach out and touch her again.
That muffled scream she let out in the street… it cut through the night like a dagger straight into my dead soul. It was a calling, a summon that dragged me there through smoke and shadow.
She didn’t know it then, but she was singing for me.
I glide closer, silent as death, looming over her unconscious form, my deadly claws ticking at my sides.
Beneath that pretty pale body lies a pitch-black mask surrounding her. And yet… deep inside her chest flickers a tiny, little light.
Defiant, resisting, and it makes my mouth water.
I need to feed off her fear. I fuckingcraveit.
The way it floods her blood-stream, the way it makes her little heart race like prey in a trap. That smell of terror is what keeps me strong—it’s what feeds the abyss inside me.
But it isn’t just hunger for fear I feel twisting inside me. It’s something darker and far more unhinged.
Since emerging on this island, I’ve only witnessed a few humans be washed ashore. But she’s different. Looking at her awakens something inside me that should have remained buried.
The sensation is immediate and strong, and it slips between my thoughts and nests there, cold and rotting, warping everything around itself.
Hunger has always been simple, hunger ends when it’s fed.
But this doesn’t just feel like hunger. This feels like a plague.
I’ve never experienced arousal before, and it settles into me with horrifying ease, as if it has been waiting for someone specifically.
Waiting forherface,hervoice, andherscent.
I’ve only just got her, that should matter, but instead, every passing second seems to pull the feeling deeper into me.
I want to break that stubborn light while she screams my name through torn lips.
I want to wrap my tendrils around her soul and squeeze until she shatters beautifully for me.
I want to fuck her cruelly while she begs, fill her up until she’s gushing, then drink every last drop of her despair as she finally realizes there is no escape from me.
I could take her right now, while she’s still passed out and helpless. But breaking her while she’s awake… watching that last flicker of defiance die in her eyes… That will taste so much deadlier.
“…Wake up, little light. I’m so fucking starved for you.”
