Blood.
The primal part of his mind that was currently more animal than human recognized the tangy, metallic scent in a way that even his conscious mind would not have recognized.
His body moved without instruction, leaping up into a crouch beside the body kneeling at his feet.
Blood. Dripping. Flowing. Pooling on the grass.
He pierced his fangs into the pliant flesh, moaning softly as the blood ran into his mouth and down his throat. This was the closest he had come to understanding heaven. This was pure, unadulterated joy. This was death in its purest form.
Griffin awoke in the middle of a field, having just enduring either unconsciousness or extremely deep sleep. No, he hadn't been sleeping; his body had been up and moving around. It was merely his brain that had suddenly come bac
