[Koltira buries his face in the dark curtain of Chloe's loose hair, breathing in deep. There's so much warmth in her body, so much life. Her heart is a siren's song to him, her blood a rushing river. He drags his claws across her bare chest, slices through the exposed skin, smiling as the lines well up red. He murmurs against her ear, his voice soft and as cold as the dead, rime-coated grass under his boot.]
I'm afraid that I do want to do this, Chloe. This and much worse.
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I'm afraid that I do want to do this, Chloe. This and much worse.