Page 78 of Demon Food

FELORÉ

“Fuck,” I hissed, pressing the knife hard against Alek’s throat.

But he had this glazed-over look about him, like it didn’t matter. Like, Oh, well. Kill me if you must, Snow Fox. And that was because he had other concerns.

I flinched when he swiped his fingers over my stomach, gathering as much of my spilled cum as he could, which dripped in a glaze of white down his elegant fingers.

He plunged them into his mouth, twitching harder, hollowing out his cheeks to suck. Then he did it again. And again.

“You taste,” he whispered, slipping his wet fingers over my skin, gathering cum, licking them, “like nothing I’ve ever tasted. Like rapture.”

I was…unable to move.

My heart was hammering. Where I was pressing the blade against his throat had started to bead in blood, but he didn’t even seem to notice as he collected every drop he could, muttering a string of curse words beneath his quickened breath.

When nothing was left, he gently curled his fingers around my wrist where I still held it over his wound. He looked completely lost in himself as he brought my bleeding palm to his mouth. And began to suck.

I gasped, my forehead crinkling as he sucked and sucked. He was swallowing my blood. He was drinking it like he’d never tasted anything better.

“S-so good,” he whispered, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as he held my palm against it. “Everything about you, human, is so fucking good.”

I whimpered. I should’ve been trying to squirm free, but I let him press my palm against his mouth tightly. I let him swallow more blood. And more.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered.

My senses were beginning to clarify as I tried to wiggle my hand, but he clenched it tight.

“You taste like life, baby,” he was saying to no one. “You are life.”

I tugged my palm away with a strong yank, and he snarled like a beast, but I twisted the blade, pushing the pointed tip into his Adam’s apple. “You don’t want to hurt me, Alek. I know you don’t.”

He blinked hard. When he spoke again, his words were strained, like he was battling himself just to say them. “I-I don’t. I s-swear, I don’t.”

But then why was he gathering my chain in his hands? Squeezing it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. I wanted to run, but at the same time, I couldn’t afford to let this knife budge.

He licked the bead of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and said, “C-c-igarette.”

The word was shaky and Vultaen, and it took my brain a moment to wrap around it.

“F-fucking ciga-re-rette,” he repeated, his abdominals tightening, like he was suddenly in pain. “Now!”

I scrambled off the bed, yanking as much of my chain as I could, while my panicked gaze searched the room. Cigarette, cigarette—then I spotted one on his desk. My chain jangled as I charged for it.

“Light it,” he hissed.

Fuck, I’d never done that. I didn’t know how, but I’d seen him do it a hundred times. I clenched it between my lips, sucking it as I held the tip over a flame from a candle, my hands shaky, but I got it. It was lit.

I twisted back around, halting cold at what I saw. It was the way he looked.

He was shirtless, smeared in blood, sitting up in the bed, and clutching the headboard behind him like he could break it with his bare hands. His eyes were reddened and absolutely wild while the muscles of his chest twitched. Even his long tongue had wandered from his mouth, licking the last remains of my blood from his lips.

He looked just like a sex demon. A lethal creature of darkness. So. Fucking. Hungry.

“Bring it to me,” he said, bouncing a foot, his voice distorted around the edges, like it was transmuting into its natural form, and I couldn’t help but feel every drop of fear as I started toward the bed.

It hit me too late as I glanced down at the cigarette in my hand. It was this. It was the fucking cigarettes. That was how he controlled it.

“Put it between my lips,” he said.