“That’s why they stay,” he murmured, cupping her face with those cold, tattooed hands. “The hunger doesn’t care if the heart beats. It only cares if the blood burns.”
The jukebox at The Rusty Nail was playing something slow and swampy, a tune about love gone sour in the bayou. Ellie didn’t care about the song. She cared about the man at the end of the bar. lust ‘n dead
He saw it. He always saw it.