Ethan's thoughts were a chaotic mess. He couldn't reason, couldn't think. Even with his formidable willpower, the pull was overwhelming, as if he were bound by an unbreakable command. His body moved on instinct, unyielding to his rational mind. It was as if a voice deep within commanded him, drink, and there was no resisting it.
The blood… oh, the blood. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. It made even the essence of the gargoyle elder—a delicacy among delicacies—seem like foul, bitter medicine. This blood was the epitome of perfection, sweet as the purest nectar, bursting with a flavor beyond description. It was indulgence incarnate, a divine cuisine that far surpassed anything he could have imagined. Ethan was utterly lost, consumed by this blissful paradise, drowning in what he could only describe as blood heaven.
