you know better babe

Exposed

It’d been so long since a live repast purged itself into an benign offering, be it a predator of prey –– if it’s their wits that were wasted, she’d gladly expunge them from this earth.

And yes, while perhaps her own sanity could be questioned at times, ferality will never be one of them. Lebraid would sooner die than become completely insane or aberrant of all morals; thunderous, fervent rumbles belted from within, gaping jowls therein seizing the tiger’s skin-parcelled, fleshy tendons. My, how moreish. They sunk with absolute savagery, blood spewing over her face, torso and the mossbed, spring-green topography underfoot, staining its nonpareil botany in the devil’s wine. Sweet, irony pungency’s barraged inside the hellion’s mouth, refusing to relinquish as the feline swung with redress, wailing and hollering like a pessimistic fool as it wrested its claws slantwise down Lebraid’s chest. She snarled, pitiless and devilishly cyclonic. Pain poisoned every fibre and follicle, nerves bleeding hot with adrenaline -- of course, that did not mean she didn’t revel in it -- an unpredictable craze seeped from those achromic, deadpan eyes. Clots of fur matted and wrangled in a fray she would not lose; ardency wreaked as the child joined in, sputtering growls mutilating in cut-throat ravishment. Death was not optional, and so canines dared to beset harder, gelled, at the peril of nothing but the tiger’s own demise, maybe; all while, the cadaverous graveyard intended to reach its jugular from the outside in, hacking and mauling at goluptious flesh, meat and beefy, succulent muscles like it were her last fucking meal.

She wanted it to focus on her.

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you know better babe

exposed

Exposed