SWEET BLOOD
His demon wanted her so much it hurts.
She did not smell like the real mistress, Leticia. To everyone else, she would. She would smell like too-strong floral fragrance mixed with the thick slime of a horrendous wound—evidence of her rotting heart and evilness in her veins.
But to him... oh, to him... to James. He breathed again, unable to halt himself. Mistake. God. She smells so delicious. The sweetness, thicker now, almost palpable, clouded his mind. Must. Taste her blood. His fangs and gums certainly ached with the desire to savor her.
Must taste her blood.