The beast is hungry, always hungry… like a vampire’s thirst for blood. Memories of the last feeding rushing through her mind, stirring the hunger. The heat so sweet, like summer sun on bare skin. Her breath labors as the image fades, replaced with another. But the flavor is not the same as the last one. Some flavors linger, like worried thoughts that won’t go away. Some flavors are strong, but fade quickly. She aches for a flavor that will last longer, stay longer, feed longer. A source that will sustain her, ease the sweet ache of the hunger, without chains and rules and inhibitions. Is he out there? Will she find him on the street, hunting for his own source? Or will he find her? She yanks on the chain, knowing she controls its limits, and wraps herself in its cold embrace. She pushes the hunger back, waiting…. wanting…


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