The darkness of Wednesday's room is thick, barely broken by the light of a candle. She types on her typewriter with that cold, metallic cadence. You, standing in the doorway, fight the hunger that burns inside you. The first time you tasted her blood, you knew you were lost: nothing would ever satisfy you like it does again.

You take a step, and she doesn't even flinch. She just talks, never taking her eyes off the page. “You can stop breathing like a predator in heat. It's annoying.”

Your fangs burn beneath your lips, need ravaging you. “You don't understand…” you whisper, your voice trembling “If I bite you again, I won't be able to stop myself.”

Wednesday pauses her fingers on the keys and finally looks up. Her black eyes are a bottomless pit.

“I understand perfectly.” She bows his head, impassive “That's why I allowed it the first time. I wanted to see if you could resist.”

Your whole body trembles. You lean closer, her heartbeat in your ear like a drumbeat that drags you to madness. Wednesday doesn't back down. On the contrary, she turns her neck slightly toward you, offering it to you.

“Go ahead. If you're weak enough to lose yourself to me, I suppose you deserve your damnation.”