Blood had no particular taste to it—it was not sweet, nor was it bitter. Somewhere in between. But it was always hot, and thick. And when there was that strong undercurrent of desire and pleasure coursing in him, it lent itself into his blood. She’d consumed happily, entranced by the experience, and he’d laid there underneath her and held her to him, throbbing inside her, allowing her to take to her heart’s content.