She slides her hand into mine, and I feel the ink soaking her glove. The splatter on her face indicates that the gore isn’t from her. It is someone else’s lifeblood that is now sickeningly cold intertwined with my hand. She smiles at me, flashing those brilliantly white incisors that have on more than one occasion torn flesh, including mine. I take in her severe beauty and I’m… Speechless. I don’t ask where she’s been, or why she’s in such a good mood. Whatever the sacrifice, it’s worth it for a moment like this with her. While her icy fingers run down my chest, I try not to look at her. I avert my eyes and focus on committing her touch to memory. The sting of the foreign ink fills my lungs, and my breathing comes up hitched. As if she understands, her grip tightens around my neck. I turn to see her, no longer smiling. She loves this part, so I don’t fight her. I close my eyes.