When Alice sliced at his throat, her lips against the cut drinking deep, Thomas growled and sank himself into her flesh, feeding from her desire as surely as she fed from his blood. She held him to her, and he could feel her desire, the impossibly sweet music played by the Hunger. She wanted to be devoured as surely as she was draining life from him now, and a smile played on Thomas' lips as he felt the wound in his neck heal clean, quicker than it should have, if he had not been drinking so deeply himself.

Thomas rocked his hips against Alice's, setting a driving, relentless rhythm, demanding and taking with every movement, the promise of release ever present, drawing closer with ever motion.