“That's the problem. For you, I'll never tire. I'll never stop feeding on each and every scrap you give me. I want to devour you. Own you. And I'm afraid that by the time I've had my fill, there won't be anything left of you.” Own you. Those two words dance around my head, sending my heart into a fluttering mess of butterfly wings. They should be repulsing me, but instead I melt into a puddle at his feet. “I'm stronger than you think,” I assure him. “I know. I'm addicted to your strength. But everyone has a breaking point, and finding yours has become a game to me.” He releases my hand and
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