Twisted Slough my life is a play, is a play

The fear in her eyes is delicious. He wishes he could feed off of simply that. But alas, he is not an emotional vampire. He does not feel hunger in the physical sense, where his body demands someone else's to feed him. Instead, he revels in the emotions she displays and tries to hide: the anxious shiver, the half-hearted echo, the shifting of her body away from him and then towards him with morbid interest. He smirks, then nods fluidly in agreement. The same could be said for you, iubită.