Officers had been killed by dead bodies. But it wasn't his heartbeat that he wanted inside me. He didn't care what he looked like, as long as he was neat and tidy. He cupped my face between his hands.
Zerbrowski here. Couldn't it just have been that you wanted to touch me, is that so wrong? I sighed and concentrated on the road, because I had to. Jean-Claude hadn't fed yet, but there was still something I could do for my own pleasure. If I'd taken blood from him it would have left him colder, but the ardeur wasn't blood, and it didn't mind sharing its warmth with those who fed it well.
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