Sam is so thirsty. Sitting at the edge of the bed, indulging in the sting of his blunt nails digging into his thighs leaving crescent marks in their wake. He needed to quench this thirst—he needed to feel power. The door creaks and is pushed open.

Sam shoots up from where he’s sat. You set your eyes black with an unsettling tick, then flick them back again. “Where’s Ruby?” Wow Ruby really has him wrapped around her pretty little finger.

The man would suck her dry if she was the only means of fulfillment to his undying thirst. You’re here to fill in. An understudy. “Fine. You got blood, I’ll take it.” He murmurs, something tells you the demonic vigor has taken over more than he’d care to admit. With frenzied need he pushes you back, a thirst that needed to be sated.

His demon blade clutched in a single hand.

So terse. So brusque. How did Ruby put up with him so long? In a peremptory haze his blade breaks skin and he licks his lips. He isn’t picky right now. Ruby is more akin to a flask for him than anything resembling human. He needs to feel the torrent of infernal force.

He needs his fix. You’re happy to deal it to him.