n. Respite: a period of delay

There was something special about her. He couldn't quite place it. She was like a drug – irresistible, every taste he got, the more he needed another.

Her smooth, alabaster skin, soft to the touch drew him in like her ebony hair. He loved to run his claws through the inky strands, ever mesmerized by the texture, the feel of her.

When he was lucky, his lips would cross hers, and the shivers would travel up and down his spine, and he would be weak. Weak for her. Weak for this. Weak enough that he would count the seconds to his next respite, his next rendezvous with her, despite the fact that she was bad.

She was moral.

She was an enemy.

She was, above all else, dead.

And then the guilt would come back, because there was one that was alive, one that needed saving. And instead, he was wasting time, desperate for the next high.

And so, he was here, with her.

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