He was so lost in it, he hardly knew where he was any more. All he knew in this moment, smoldering from his core and outward, was to let this fallen man's blood run and taste the spice of that pride.

There was so much of it... perhaps he didn't need it to age, to build, but could you imagine...?

But he was growling, a low rumble as he shifted his grip, enough that claws would draw flesh blood of their own. He was all but rabid now, feeding and all but shuddering with the pleasure of deepest sin.

He was far from gluttony... but he understood Bee. This... this was like a hot honey.