Deepwood Weald Willst du nur Früchte von ihr, die kann auch die Sterbliche zeugen;

Wrestling with her struggling body, her snapping fangs only tightened his grip as he tried to place a paw on her neck or shoulder to pin the woman down and try to keep her place so she struggled a little less. Hopefully, she would tire herself out first before she bled to death, a wrongful bite, a knick too far to one side and she was a goner...

But he was hungry.

Too hungry to really care. 

With muscles flexing, he was truly his father's son in this moment. No poise or grace, he simply wanted to overpower her and pin her down so he could take what he desired most at this moment. Should she continue to struggle, he would simply try to keep wrestling until she was under his control, squeezing and pressing the woman under his weight. 

Some bruising was a good possibility, especially on her neck. With the struggling and lack of give he was giving her, the poor thing's neck might be sore in the morning and for a few days after... but it was well worth it. For him. For his tongue to feel and taste that sweet nectar was euphoric after what felt like so long of a drought after picking up the child.