She looked down at his sleeping form, shadowed in the half light, from the hallway. His breaths were deep and regular in his dreamless sleep. She could hear the blood rushing through his veins, in a rhythm like sex, slow and steady.
She leaned forward, her mouth nearly resting on his sun scented skin. Her face felt hot, and her stomach tightened. Her breath quickened as she hovered over his pulse, breathing deeply, trying to still her mounting desire.
A drop of moisture pooled on the edge of her lip. She could smell it, the blood of her lover. She could feel it in her soul. She could taste it in the back of her mind.
She wasn't pretty. She wasn't sweet. She was hungry. She needed to eat...