The alleyway…
I jump up from my bed, hurrying to the small rectangular mirror hanging over my dresser. I stumble into it, and it sways a bit under my weight as I grip the edges and look at my reflection.
My shirt has holes in it exactly where the demon pierced my skin.
Well, I guess that answers that. I didn’t imagine or dream it. But I’m somehow alive. I ease my shirt off my torso and examinemy wounds in the mirror. Except there aren’t any. Just five little scars that are so faded, it seems impossible they could have come from last night.
But I didn’t have them yesterday.
My reflection gazes solemnly back at me. Just more scars to add to all my others. I glance down at my forearms. They’re covered in scars. The worst are from going over the bridge. The others are self-inflicted and quite old.
My jaw aches too for some reason, as if the singing yesterday was too much. I shake my head at my reflection. I’m the biggest idiot in the entire world.
Magic, demons—apparently real.
And I was tricked into feeding that demon?
The vision he showed me must have been fake. He showed me what he needed to, to take what he wanted.
Days later and I’m going hungry. I’ve eaten everything I can get my hands on and I’m still hungry.
I’ve never been one for casual sex. It’s always felt weird to me, being touched by someone I don’t know well. But there’s this ache in my body, a thirst so awful I can’t figure out how to assuage it. So I find myself here, in the backroom of the bar Simon and some other friends have pulled me out to, with a girl whose name I don’t know. She’s kissing my neck. Having gone solong without even my hand for company, I’m torturously hard. I grind myself into her and she lets out a soft moan. I want to taste her, want to be inside her.I’m so hungry for her.
I lift her onto a few sturdy boxes and push her dress up her thighs, revealing creamy white flesh that I want to lick. That I want totaste.She widens her legs for me and I get on my knees, ready to worship this woman I’ve barely exchanged a few words with.
I trail kisses up her left thigh, holding her apart with my hands as she runs her fingers through my hair. I practically purr at the feel of her tugging my head towards her. I use my right hand to guide her thong aside as I begin to taste her center, slowly licking my way until my tongue slides into her folds.
I groan at the taste.
I’ve always loved giving head. I pride myself on my skill, actually. The taste has always been nice, welcomed, but this woman, or maybe it’s the thought that anyone could walk in and see us—something is making this taste particularly alluring.
I’m almost salivating at it.
And I’m so fucking hungry and thirsty all at the same time.
I give her a playful nip along the inside of her thigh. Teasing her.
She moans and urges me on with her fingers in my hair.
The smooth expanse of her thigh calls to me. She’s thicker here, her thighs pushing together earlier when she was walking, rubbing together, begging for someone to be between them. I have an overwhelming urge to nibble her there again and so I do. I can feel myself salivating more, and an ache has settled around my teeth. Something feels like it’s shifting in my mouth, but I’m too focused on that pale skin, fixated on it.
I go to nibble her again, but as soon as my teeth touch her flesh, they break it, puncturing in multiple places, and bloodfloods my mouth. Even though a voice at the back of my mind tells me something is wrong, it feels so good. So I bite harder.
I’m dimly aware that the woman is screaming, trying to push me off, but she tastes so fucking good. I bite into her over and over, moving up her thigh towards her center. She struggles to get away from me, but I crave her too much to let go. My fingers sink into her legs, holding her steady, and I keep taking bites, swallowing her flesh and her blood and reveling in it.
Flesh.
I’m literally eating human flesh.
What the fuck?
I force myself to push away from her, stumbling to the ground as she’s screaming.
Oh God. What have I done?
But the hunger is pushing me towards her again, as I watch blood dripping from her thighs. I have to get out of here, but I don’t want to just leave. The woman is looking at me like I’m a monster—which I am. I can hear people coming, her screams having finally been heard over the loud bar noises and music.
“God, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, but she can’t hear me. I don’t know what to do, but I know if I stay here any longer I’m going to attack her again.
