A demon called heroin.

Elle half stumbles on the way to Davis’s haven, her gut twists in agony and she pauses in an alleyway to hurl up gouts of blood.

Her body is pissed.

She has not drunk from a junkie in 53 hours and it is becoming apparent that this will just not work for her.

Davis wanted me to limit myself, to challenge myself to be better. I can’t drink from them… I just have to last a little longer… Seven days and I wont want it… Right? Maybe? I hope?

She staggers against a brick wall getting close, she hurls again, now with drawls not the only thing twisting her guts, her ravening beast is slamming against her throat, setting it aflame with the desire to drink and kill and devour. She gasps as she throws up again, her stomach dangerously empty, her hands start shaking and she starts sweating blood, steps becoming slower and slower, her head spinning. All she can think about is a high, the dragon… she shakes her head roughly, dark hair flying.

No. No No No! I can’t I can’t he wants me to be good…

She clutches at her stomach as a fresh wave of nausea makes cramps that don’t bring anything up.

“Hey lady… Are you okay?” comes a voice. A man, a random woefully unlucky man.

She loses it, she cant control herself as she lifts her head, blood dripping from her mouth and down her chest and the front of her low cut shirt. She lunges like a panther pinning him to the wall just feet from Davis’s door, her fingers dig into his flesh, breaking the skin, her power roaring through him and making his head start to loll on his shoulders, ending his struggling as she tears into the gristle of his neck.

She drinks and drinks, glutting herself on the heavenly flavored blood. She doesn’t hear the door open, she doesn’t hear quick heavy footsteps.

“Elle. That’s enough,” comes his voice.

She doesn’t hear him over her heaving breath, reveling in the pleasure of downing such a quantity of delicious blood.

“ENOUGH. ELLE,” the voice comes louder but she is too busy licking at the gaping wound in the unfortunate man’s neck.

The hand that encircles her neck and firmly cuts off her ability to swallow does in fact get her attention. She coughs and sputters blood on the man’s face, Davis’s hand around her throat, holding her back.

She makes a soft sad whimpering noise like a wounded animal leaning towards the man who is staring wide eyed, losing consciousness as they stand there, Davis murmuring in her ear.

“You little idiot, I meant temper your desires, not destroy yourself… You are what you are, you cannot change what you need to live, but master the desire so it does not master you little one. You cannot change your blood, only the way you let it control you,” he says in her ear, holding her back firmly.

The tension in her muscles slowly goes slack the smaller Kindred turning her face into his chest and curling against him not looking at her food, disgusted that she let herself get so out of hand. She slowly gets herself back under control, letting Davis hold her against him. He whispers something in her ear and she nods and kisses him, whispering a thank you in his ear.

She goes inside to take a bath, clean up and calm down, still shaky and now riding an incredibly amazing high that is blowing her mind, her eyes pools of dilated blackness. She stumbles to his bathtub and gets in, throwing her clothes in a trash can, the expensive cloth ruined with gore.

She lays there in the warm bath water until Davis gets back from cleaning up her mess, then joins him to talk.