A tear trickled down the curve of her cheek and all I could think to say way, “I hope you know that’s not what I want,” as if my desire was paramount. The truth is, even though I sincerely did not want to see her cry the sight of her tears filled my heart to overflowing with awe at the simplicity of her beauty. The movement of liquid on her skin emphasized its softness and I understood the joy a carnivore feels when its teeth rip into living flesh. I hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and was aware that the points of my stubble were sending pinpoints of pain rippling across the sweet skin of her face and neck. I tasted her tears and with them my own.

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