Chapter 3: The Feast of Fangs: Hunger Beyond Humanity
The crimson yarn still clung to Lucy’s clothes, a few stray strands caught in her blonde hair like delicate scars from their earlier play. The compulsion to worry at them with her fingers was a faint, buzzing itch under her skin, but a new scent was cutting through the lavender and salt air, something rich and metallic that made the itch disappear.
A section of the wall, seamless a moment before, slid open with a whisper. A silver platter floated into the center of the pavilion, a place they had been led to by an unseen guide. It was a room draped in heavy, velvet curtains of deep burgundy, muting the world outside into a distant hum. The air was thick with sandalwood incense, and a faint, melodic lullaby drifted from a hidden music box, its tune both soothing and strangely off-key.
On the platter were two bowls.
One held a sleek filet of raw tuna, its flesh a deep ruby red, glistening under the soft glow of the crystal lamps. The other was piled with thick, cross-cut marrow bones, their centers filled with a dark, viscous richness.
Lucy’s nose twitched. Her body moved before her mind could form a single coherent word. She dropped from her cushioned perch, her hands and knees hitting the plush carpet with a soft thud. A purr rattled in her chest, loud and insistent, as she crawled toward the tuna. She didn’t pick it up. She lowered her head and lapped at it, a long, rough stroke of her tongue across the cool, slick flesh. A sound of pure, desperate pleasure escaped her, a mix of a sigh and a mewl.
Brandish was slower, more deliberate in her descent. She approached the bones with a canine reverence, her gaze fixed. She settled on the floor, her legs splayed, and picked up the largest bone with both hands. She brought it to her mouth not to eat, but to gnaw. The sound of her teeth scraping against the bone was a gritty, primal counterpoint to the eerie lullaby. She worked at it with a focused intensity, her green hair falling over her face, juices smearing her chin and dripping onto the front of her shirt.
Lucy finished the tuna quickly, licking the silver bowl until it shone. The raw fish had ignited a deep, animal warmth in her belly. She lifted her head, her senses heightened, her body thrumming with a restless energy. Her gaze landed on Brandish.
The sight was a trigger.
Brandish, content in her gnawing, looked up. Her mouth was slick and shiny, a smear of dark marrow at the corner of her lips. She panted slightly, a happy, dog-like grin on her face. "Good bone," she mumbled around a mouthful.
Something in Lucy snapped.
With a burst of fluid motion, she was on her. It wasn't a hostile pounce, but a predatory one, full of intent. She drove Brandish backward onto the carpet, pinning her shoulders down with surprising strength. Brandish let out a startled "Oof!" the bone clattering from her grip.
For a moment, Brandish’s eyes widened, a flicker of her old, aloof self surfacing in the shock. Then it was gone, submerged under the hypnosis. She didn’t struggle. She looked up at Lucy, her expression one of confused submission.
Lucy chirped, a high, curious sound. She lowered her head, her blonde hair forming a curtain around their faces. Her tongue, still cool from the fish, darted out and swiped a long, rough stripe up Brandish’s jaw, cleaning the marrow from her skin.
Brandish froze. A shudder ran through her, a complex tremor that was part revulsion and part something else entirely, something warm and pooling deep inside. Her breath hitched.
Lucy did it again, licking the other side of her mouth, chasing every last drop of the rich, salty flavor. She mewled softly, nuzzling against Brandish’s cheek, her actions infused with an innocent, feline affection that was utterly at odds with the intimacy of the act.
A low, involuntary whine escaped Brandish’s throat. Her hands, which had been lying limp at her sides, slowly came up and rested on Lucy’s back, not pushing her away, but holding her there. Her hips shifted slightly against the carpet, a tiny, unconscious movement.
The hidden music box played its looping, slightly dissonant lullaby. The velvet curtains absorbed the sound of their breathing, now coming in sync—Lucy’s a soft purr, Brandish’s a shaky pant. The silver collar around Brandish’s neck felt suddenly warmer, its hum a vibration that matched the new, confusing rhythm of her heart. She stared up at the kitty cleaning her face, her mind a blissful, terrified blank.