<span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><span style="font-size: 15px">As quickly as that, the decade long struggle between himself and Anabelle came to an end as Virgil felt his fangs bury into her flesh, the hot blood washing over his tongue.  It was, as always, intoxicating, but somehow more so this time around.  Her taste was no different than any other humans he'd tasted over the centuries.  Perhaps it was simply the feeling of accomplishment of having felled a worthy foe.  However, as he pulled himself off, mouth coated in red, he looked down at his enemy and felt...regret.  This wasn't satisfying.  Not in the slightest.  He wanted to taste more of her.  He'd delighted in the thrill of the chase, of pursuing her, of being pursued, of simply watching her in those tight, form-fitting hunters' outfits that accentuated her toned and trained body so deliciously.<br/>
<br/>
Leaning down next to her as blood pooled beneath her neck, Virgil whispered in a sultry tone into her ear, "Do you fear death, little mouse?"</span></span>