It was an hour before the guards returned; the vomiter had been replaced by another who made a valiant effort not to look at the helpless, bound creature that she was. They dropped a platter of meat on a small table and she gave it only a passing glance. The smell divine but it was not enough to sustain her anymore. It was the other thing that they brought with them that had her attention, and she watched as they shoved in a bound man and then hustled back out, the door slamming loudly behind them.
Unable to resist, her attention latched onto the man, her mouth watering at the delicious, utterly breath-stealing smell of him and his terror. She could not help herself, she was starving, desperate and needing food, even if it meant the lich would see.
The man began to scream at the sight of her. He was an older man, his clothing and beard suggesting he was homeless, the smell of alcohol wafting off him. So perhaps not homeless then.
An odd sound filled the room, a low growling sound punctuated by a soft mewling whimper. It was a shock for her to realise it was her making the sound, her entire body straining towards him.
How had her willpower so completely escaped her? She did not know, but she was burning for him.
The lich had not moved, watching her as she struggled and pulled against her chains to try to get to the terrified food and he smiled as he listened to the pitiful sounds she made.
The man scrabbled against the door, his nails breaking and the smell of blood hitting her like a physical blow. A snarl escaped her, and she pulled harder, her wrist popping as it dislocated. She was going to rip her arms off if that was what it took, but that would not help her. She had to decapitate herself if she was to be free of the chain around her neck. Pride be damned!
"P-Please..." she finally mewled, her voice high and desperate.
The lich laughed, a high, cold sound, and approached her. His face split into a wide grin as he stood before her, forcing her head up to face him when she tried to see around him to the human. Finally, she looked at the lich as he drew nearer. His fingers dug into her jaw, his eyes burning.
"What will you give me if I let you have him?" he whispered.
The feral part of her was screaming, desperate for food, and she knew she was turning feral, bloodlust and need driving her wild.
"Anything," she pleaded, her entire being drawn to the smell and sound of the human man.
"You will be mine. Mine to command, mine to control. My toy, my tool. Mine," he murmured, lips barely an inch from hers.
The demand barely processed in her mind, and she did not give it as much as a second thought.
"Yes!" she hissed, uncaring of what the deal might entail. It did not matter; she wanted the human.
His grin grew wide again, and he lifted his free hand, pressing the pad of his index and middle fingers against the centre of her chest, over her heart.
Cold seized her and she gasped, her exhaled breath showing as mist in the air.
Without a word, his eyes still locked with hers, he reached out and freed first one hand, then the other. He reached behind her and released her throat. Stepping back, his voice boomed out in a laugh as she lunged for the man, slamming him against the wall with the weight of her own body.
The last thing she heard as she gave in to the hunger was the lich's triumphant cry of victory. He had won, and they both knew it.
She knew, even as she fed, that he had stopped laughing and was studying her every move, every action the human made, and taking mental notes. She knew it was a terrible piece of information to give someone such as him, yet her need had taken over. She had been like a drowning person and the air just out of reach. She had lost her willpower and, with it, her freedom.
Even after the feeding she was studied, the lich circling her like a buzzard and she watched him back, that feral part of her. She was wondering what the lich would taste like, buzzing on the high of the feed and hungering for more. She watched him and did not think he was aware of her watching. He was so oddly animated, bending to examine the blackening of the veins that littered her body, studying the blackness of her eyes and assumed her blind, studied the mulberry colour of her lips. She felt the touch of his index finger there, and snapped at him. He jerked back, and she smirked. She had tasted him, his skin and the coldness of him. She felt it there, hovering on her lip, and she licked it away.
The taste of dead blood filled her senses, and she felt her head sway at the toxin. He was not edible, he was dead. Yet the part of him that she could consume, she was sure he still had that. She was certain he still contained a soul, and she wanted it very badly.
He asked her questions she did not care to try to understand, for when she was in control no language mattered, she cared only for the hunt and kill, only for the next meal.
She only knew he was asking her questions by the way his voice tilted upwards by the end and yet none of it made any sense, none of it mattered. She was still contemplating the likelihood of eating him before he ripped her in half when she felt her control begin to slip.
'NO!' she hissed inside herself, hating that other. That her that resided always, only retreating to relish in the meal, to absorb the food and grow stronger. She had been weak, so near death and yet there she was, clawing her way back like some rabid beast.
There was no fighting it, she knew that. And yet she wanted to fight, to crush that other her who dared to press her away and contain her.
They both knew she had no option, and yet she went down fighting, leaving scratches on their joined psyche that would take days to heal. Worth it.