Alpha's Pet
The distinct burn of bile rises in my throat, but before it gets too far, his deep voice sends it back.
“Oh Sweetness,” he licks the remaining blood from his thumb, “don’t you see? Blood - it’s our lifeline, our freedom, our reminder to live.”
“It’s currency, it’s entitlement, it’s death.”
If he has a reaction, he doesn’t provide it. He might not agree with my stance on it, but it’s as accurate as his description. Blood can be beautiful, and maybe I would have continued to believe so if it hadn’t become the marker for the day Trent irrevocably changed.
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