Bolvin focused on the muscles that connected his jaw, then took a deep breath. The air in the apartment was warm and richly spiced. Thrumming mandolins played in the background. Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, Bolvin concentrated on everything and nothing and the world melted away leaving just him and his hunger.

He wanted Darla. It had scared him at first, but in the void he knew that what had first drawn his eye was the thought that maybe she would be the one to fill him. Latching onto that thought, Bolvin felt his jaw lower. And lower. And lower.

“Honey?”

He snapped back to the present. Darla’s foot was already dangling into his mouth, swirling in the drool that leaked out onto his chin. She tasted divine. He needed her.


---

Will Brazzel ever standardize the color of pink he uses for female pred/prey in his thumbnails? Find out next time on Lazy Dumbass With Photoshop.

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