Hoshor Plains grinning

he watched the blood splatter her jaws in tiny cerise whirlpools. merrick watched her throat bob with the meal; he heard her tittering laughter and examined how like vermin this somehow-wolf appeared to be.
the figure's taut flesh had electrified with a magnificent flex of silkfluff hackles.
merrick's stalk quickened.
"not for me," the madman purred, and then he was snapping upward and left for the lithe creature's shoulderblade — he hoped it would part like butter beneath the hungering bloodthirsty cut of his jaws;
what he wanted was the lavender jugular beneath that tormenting voice and red-flecked fur.