Chapter Forty-Two

Dameon

I could still taste his blood and fear on my tongue. It was exquisite. Inexplicable power thrummed in my veins with every Fae I'd drunk from. It was ecstasy. My euphoria. The man in me wept for the dead. A fool he was, refusing to let us be one. We shared my body and I longed to drown his constant bickering and pleas out but I found that regardless of how drunk and high I might be with Fae blood, there was no drowning him.

I hated him for he was weak. I hated him for he was fair. I hated him for he was kind. I hated him for he was me. He made me hesitate before a kill. Made me want to make death swift and less painful. Made me want to forego my hunger and lust. He made me want to weep after I killed.