A fly, that’s what she was. Just a fly that irritated the beast and dealt with summarily. That’s all the effort she warranted too. A flick of the tail and off she spun. No more, no less. A problem no more. As she flew ass over teakettle through the air, out of control of her body, with no way to control her trajectory she felt the beast’s thoughts wash over her. Thoughts wasn’t quite right, what she felt pushed into her head was something more primal, more raw than mere thoughts. It was too angry for that. It was akin to the hunger she fought to stave off but focused differently. It reminded her of something she’d allowed herself to overlook in the year of worry for Veti, the deep mourning for Max and the brief interlude of slaked lusts with Atticus.

She was a monster. 

Not by choice, not a very good one, but she was a monster. Her hunger matched this beast’s rage for all that it had done her no good. She hadn’t been a good enough dancer for her mother, she hadn’t been a good enough student for her teacher’s and she hadn’t been a good enough friend for Veti and now she wasn’t being a very good monster. 

But then what was stopping her? Her reluctance to be good at the one thing she’d never wanted? She failed at everything else because she hadn’t really tried she supposed. She’d let so many people’s needs and wants steer her through her life. She hadn’t taken anything she wanted. Anything but Atticus. Oh how she wanted him, her mouth flooded at the thought of him, her hunger pushing at the rage that still forced itself into her mind, stretching her questionable sanity. 

If she did not figure out a way to stop this thing who threatened everything she loved then she would never get the one thing she truly wanted again, a taste of him, the feel of him, goading him into all the delicious and monstrous things they could and should do to each other, in the dark, in the silence. 

She landed, hard. A high-pitched gasp of pain shot out of her as she felt things in her rib cage snap and give way. Her cry was cut off as something sharp took away her air and she felt fluid, blood in places there shouldn’t be any. Her pale lips turned red as blood bubbled up from her punctured lung. It was a good thing she didn’t need to breathe she reflected as she staggered to her feet. Pain flooded her but she ignored, focusing on collecting herself, her all black eyes focused on the mountain of dark beast that threatened her everything. She was not a fly, but a mosquito, a tick. 

She would take from him, use what was his against him. Didn’t like affect like? That seemed like some sort of stupid Magical rule that she didn’t have time to ask Thad about. She needed to act and more than that she needed to heal and that furry mother-fucker was going to be the source for both. 

[i]How bad could he taste?[/i] She wondered. Certainly better than geriatric werewolf. He was a god after all. She licked her blood-flecked lips and with a burst of speed launched herself at the beast again. This time her landing was soft, not meant to jar or to damage. She gripped the thinner fur on his underbelly near one of his forelegs as he focused on one of her teammates. Not Veti, not Thad, not Atticus…. She mentally chanted as she shifted her grip, taking hold and bracing herself in a spot she hoped her wouldn’t be able to reach easily. She’d spent plenty of time around canines and for all that this wasn’t a canine in truth he was built like one and they had spots that were harder to reach than others. She found one and with as much care as she had ever done anything she pressed her soft cupid’s bow of a mouth to his flesh and sank her tiny fangs into the flesh of a god. 

Did god’s bleed? 

When something dark and rich, unwholesome and filled with fury hit her tongue she got her answer. Blood or Ichor, it didn’t matter, it rushed into her, just a trickle for him but for her an ocean of sensation. Not since she’d taken in the piece of eight, the legacy of her line had she felt such a rush. She could feel the edges of herself begin to fray under the onslaught but still she clung and still she drank filling up like a tick. 

[i]You are what you eat[/i]. She thought as she swallowed and swallowed.