Give in to it, angel."
"Give in to what?"
"The hunger," he said, his tongue slowly running across his bottom lip. "The need. Give in to the craving. Give in to me."
"Never," she whispered, the word impulsively tumbling from her lips, no conviction in her feeble voice.
"I know you feel it, deep inside of you, screaming out to be acknowledged, to be satiated," he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. "I can sense it, clawing underneath your skin, begging to be let loose, begging to be invited out to play.

Auteur: J.M. Darhower