I hated what I’d become.

I hated the thirst that never left, that would not be satiated no matter how much I killed or drank. I hated my senses, the way they continued to heighten.

I hated that people bowed to me. Because I never aged. Because I was so much stronger than any man. I hated this rage that always simmered underneath, a Beast in my chest that wanted to escape and make all wrongdoers suffer. Even though I was a sinner myself.

I especially hated the look on Tibor’s face as he lifted his head, blood streaming from his mouth. The agony that ravaged his face as he tried to pull away from the nearly lifeless woman in his iron grip. But she was not drained yet, and his compulsion, his need overrode his beautiful conscience as he dipped his head once more to her torn neck.