Luther struggled to hold back the ravenous beast inside, savoring every second of exultation and pleasure the dying gave him. Then the hunger burst like a disintegrating dam and he tore the elf’s throat apart, hands clutching either side of the lolling head. He fastened himself to the neck, the blood saturating his hands and chest. The rich crimson flood held the last of the agonies of the dying mage, life-blood filled with death-fear, the delight of it overwhelming him. Luther’s body spasmed like a huge, pallid leech rippling with peristalsis as it gorged itself.