The taste of her blood exploded on his tongue. He’d found the source of the sweetness, and it shocked him to realize she was the cause of his intoxication. Human blood was always bitter to the Dardaptoan, bitter but necessary. But not hers. Some legends had told the tales of humans so sweet they were addictive. Such rare humans had supposedly been converted as slaves, a kind of living candy. But not in Rydere’s lifetime. He’d not believed such legends. Until now. She twisted. His hold on her neck tightened, kept her skin pressed to his mouth. He took several long, hard drags at her neck, pulling the honeyed blood from her. Her nails raked his face, drawing Dardaptoan blood to the surface. Blood for blood. Gods, she tasted good. He pulled back, needing to breathe, needing to control himself so that he didn’t devour her before he’d had time to savor this unexpected treat. He looked at her. Her lips trembled as she begged him to stop, to let her go. Her voice a mere ghost he had to strain to hear.
