A frown tugged at his mouth, his fingers ran through the hair at Riley's temple. "The choices are, unfortunate, for feeding. Phasing a mind so they don't realize what you are doing, odd young people that beg for the 'privilege' because they think there's something special with being chattel." He almost spit the words. A small shake of the head, "I drink donated blood, they have no idea of course, but they were paid to donate to save lives, and that is still technically what they are doing. To feed is, personal." He still garnered the same strength from the blood bags, but even if he heated it up, it wasn't fresh enough, live enough to make him look alive, or feel it.
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tao_) wrote,