Page 128 of Demon Food

Wait.

Couldn’t hear it? As in I couldn’t hear myself? That made no sense.

“Yes, my prince,” Feloré whispered, an answer to whatever I said. “Tell me exactly what you need.”

I tried to shake my head clear, but I said something else. I could feel my lips moving and a muted, muffled sound, but no words. What the fuck?

But then Feloré gripped my hard cock with two hands and I jolted hard.

“Like this?” he asked, eyes bright as he started to stroke, and holy gods. Holy fucking gods.

I thought I’d been drinking this whole time, but what I’d been doing was barely sipping.

This. This was how I drank.

He cried out in pleasure when I pilfered his energy. I pried open a tunnel from him to me, and it bore deeper with each thrust of my hard cock between his expert hands. If fucking his hands was this good, then what was it going to be like inside him?

“I will be whole.”

My eyes shot open. I heard myself that time. I heard myself say that.

“Yes,” Feloré said. “You will.”

I tried to speak, but the only sound to escape my lips was a snarl that sounded like a rabid animal, and he nodded his encouragement as he continued to stroke me.

But he didn’t understand. He couldn’t see what was happening inside me. It was like I was purging something the higher the monster climbed. Something dark and sinister and impossibly black. What were these thoughts beginning to consume me? These desires.

“That’s it,” he whispered, giving himself to me. “You’re doing so good.”

I’d not realized how my vision had tunneled on him until just now, but I couldn’t see anything else. All I could see was the human body at my feet, and how badly I wanted to fucking wreck him.

I wanted to devour him. Ruin him. Shove all my fingers—no, my entire fist up his tight ass, then make him beg me for more.

My teeth on his neck. My throbbing cock down his throat.

These thoughts. I recognized them because they were the ones that haunted my dreams. Pops of light were sparking my vision, but I could suddenly see clearly.

This wasn’t a monster.

This was me.

But it was the worst parts of me. It was the black of my most twisted, sickest desires.

It was cruelty. And destruction. And the thrill of pain inflicted. I needed to fill him until he couldn’t move. Tongue fuck him until he screamed. Own him until there was nothing left for him to give.

I wanted more, and more, and more, and more, and no one else could have him. He was only mine, and the possessiveness I felt was immeasurable. It was owed to me, and I would take him. Every last drop.

Give me every…last…drop.

“Fuck, human,” I heard myself say in Vultaen, my voice rich and husky. “I cannot wait any longer.”

I was still here. I was witness, but I was falling through time, drowning in my own darkness and grasping uselessly for control I never had.

What a fool I was to think I’d ever be able to fight this. This was not a force to be fought. This was pure power, driven by an ancient wisdom, and it would have whatever it wanted.

What it wanted—what I wanted—was the life pulsing through this gorgeous human’s veins. This feast of a person was about to find out how hungry I really was.

My chest expanded with a breath that felt like jagged shards of ice were twining through my lungs. I didn’t know what it was, and at the same time I did, because I gripped Feloré’s hair and yanked his head back, crushing our mouths together.