If I had to, I could hunt you down from miles away. I could pick you out of a crowd without sight or sound. It’s been long enough that I know your scent. I’ve committed it to memory and I couldn’t forget it if I wanted to.
Thinking of you, the smell of your skin, it makes my mouth water. Burying my face in your neck and taking your air into my lungs makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. It makes me growl. It makes me move in ways that are more instinct than reason.
You’ve turned me feral, made me unfit for pleasant company and polite conversation.
I want to toy with you and drain your strength and suck your energy until you have no will left but for me. Then I might be able to rest while I think of how to use you until I’m satisfied, while I think of how to finish you off when I’m done with you.
When you’ve been stripped bare, broken, and drained, only then will I sleep soundly. I will curl around my trophy, my knee between your thighs, my hand at your throat.