Kalab darted a glance at Rorik, part triumphant, part fresh anger. At least he hadnâ€™t ruined itâ€¦<br/><br/>There was no real choice but for Kalab to follow Nehmahati. Even if he hadnâ€™t wanted to, the promise in her kiss and distracting sway of her hips would have made it impossible. This time, it wasnâ€™t fear, but expectation that spiced Nehmahatiâ€™s blood. It was so much sweeter. Necessary or not, he wanted it enough that it was a physical ache. Noâ€¦ not just it, but her.<br/><br/>He wanted not to hurt her, but was entirely unsure of his ability to do so at the moment. Kneeling beside her on one knee, he did what he hadnâ€™t gotten the chance to do before. â€œForgive me if I hurt you,â€ he told her as he brushed his fingertips against her waist, simply for the contentment of touching her. Seconds later, the fang teeth heâ€™d kept hidden out of propriety pierced skin with a barely audible â€˜popâ€™. A warm gush of crimson followed.<br/><br/>It was pure paradise.<br/><br/>Heâ€™d never had the urge just to keep going until his victim was dead before. Nor did he want Nehmahati dead, not really. But her heart had to stop and he loved that prospect. Under his hand, he felt the rapid patter slowing and it only made him want more. Forgetting that he hadnâ€™t wanted to hurt her through the red haze, he pulled harder. He kept going until the dull beat stopped entirely.<br/><br/>Kalab almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing. His dear heart was so beautiful in deathâ€¦<br/><br/>He held out his hand for the knife, shaking his head to try to clear the mist. When it touched his hand he drew it across his wrist and just as quickly across hers.