Emberwood [m]Reach for light.

Grated growls from an opened throat, he could not stop. He would not stop. There was no end to the twisting of his thickened legs, nor the rippling of his muscles along his shoulders. Where he could feel himself constricting, as every tendon fought to bring itself back to life as she shredded through skin, meat. If he was still, would she touch bone? His neck was violent, slipping her across the ground by her own with his teeth clamped around her throat.

“What are you doing?” He demanded. He wouldn’t let her still. He would not allow her rest. He wouldn’t allow her to dry up and die. He wouldn’t let her make this easy for him.

“Get up,” he commanded her, his teeth latched onto her again, grinding down her flesh as he slid her again.
Again. Again. “Get up.” He called. Until he was breathing so hard that he could feel his lungs filling with his own heated air. There was no more red that he could see than when she was still, when she wouldn’t fight back, when she wouldn’t give him what he deserved. When she would lie dormant with her own blood pooling below her, he the trigger, her the finger, and he wanted her to pull again. Light me again. He will not let her. He will not let her be still, and die, lose here to him.

Would not let her.

”GET UP!” He stood over her now, feet digging into the earth, teeth to her throat, still as he stared her with blood-sport eyes, engaged with tooth, nail, calling her forth from whatever depth of mind she would dare not cross so that she would come to him again. Fight me. Fight me. Fight me.
I will not win this way.
You will fight me.