Cerulean Cape Cause for hate and a cause for ending, it sounds so easy

Raptor did not entertain a single conscious thought as he kept up the attack. It was as if he were in a trance. Or as if his brain really had been oozing out of his nose and pooling at his toes. His fangs closed around her foreleg and fastened there like a cruel trap. Her own fangs sank deep into his shoulder, but though he was briefly aware of the lance of pain it did nothing to deter him or raise any doubts.

He nearly had her where he wanted her, and by jerking his head and throwing his weight, he was able to unbalance and topple her. Wylla crashed into the sand and Raptor hastened to straddle her and secure his position, pinning her. For the briefest of moments he reared his head and snarled down at her, savoring that his triumph was so close at paw. He let the scent of her and her blood wreathe his nose; he let the sight of her beneath him excite him. The corsair felt electric fire sweep across him in that instant and spur him on.

Splitting his jaws, he reached for her throat, and caught her flesh between his teeth with a voracious growl born from deep within his chest. He bit down roughly, but his fangs did not pierce or rend her, and then they set themselves against her skin once more further down her neck. Then again. His teeth grasped and bruised, but never drew a drop blood.