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Blood hit Toni’s starved cells like a bullet. Rich, dark, warm, life-giving blood. It coated her throat and she eagerly latched on, clamping her hands around and drinking from the source. The scarlet ambrosia surged rhythmically. Like a drum. Or a heartbeat.
Caught in the wasteland between life and death, Toni focused on that heartbeat. Strong and powerful, it called to her and she used it like a beacon. Dragging herself toward it, farther and farther out of the clinging quicksand of the true death. The flow of rich fluid stopped, the source removed, and she pouted for a second before she realized she could still hear the heartbeat. It was part of her now, prowling through her blood with the aggression and protectiveness of a guardian angel as sleep wrapped itself around her and pulle
