20
Nikolai
She stands up shakily, staring at me, and I fight the urge to gather her into my arms. I fight it because underneath the need to comfort are darker, more dangerous urges, ones born of a hunger so deep and savage it scares even me.
Once I give in to it, once I unleash the beast snarling inside me, there will be no going back.
Two weeks I’ve given her. For two century-long weeks, I’ve done the impossible and stayed away. Well, not entirely. I’ve spent dozens of hours watching her through the cameras in Slava’s room and in her bedroom, but that and our brief interactions at mealtimes have only added to my torment.
I’ve never thought of myself as a masochist, but I must be, because I’ve willingly embraced the exquisite torture of having her within arm’s reach yet not allowing m
