Two hours later, they were in the back seat of his truck, parked under the skeletal branches of a dead oak. The windows fogged. Her dress hit the floorboard. His hands were cold, but his mouth was fire. She bit his shoulder when he found the spot behind her ear, and he groaned a sound that wasn’t quite human—hungry and hollow, like wind through a broken church.
Ellie opened her mouth to scream, but only a sigh came out—long, slow, and strangely sweet. lust ‘n dead
“Nobody is,” he replied, voice like gravel and honey. “We all just end up here.” Two hours later, they were in the back
Not slow. Not fast. Not at all.
But the hunger?