[ God, this is intoxicating. The scent of blood. The way it pumps through that artery, the pace of the heartbeat. It's so strong that Rafa's fangs briefly descend, though they're hidden behind his lips. He forces them back, controls his hunger. The darkening of his eyes is harder to hide. His lips part to draw in air, a necessity because Adam's scent is driving him to distraction now.

It would be easy to mistake that expression for lust. It feels much the same to Rafa; hunger and lust are bound very tightly in his mind, not least because he so often bites his prey while he's sleeping with them. He's hungry now. His desire to taste is almost overwhelming.

He remains careful not to touch. He's not sure he could hold himself back, if he did. ]

It was not fun. It was life or death. [ His eyes meet Adam's. There's a line of freckles dotting across one of his cheekbones. It's beautiful enough to feel like a taunt. Rafa wants to guide his fingers over that line. He imagines training his hand down, lifting up Adam's chin, tasting his lips and then moving down, down to that pulsing artery -

Another breath. He must not reveal himself. That would be far too easy, and he still wants the boy to guess. ] I would not have done it if I could have helped it. But I am sorry about your car. I am not sorry that it brought me to you.