Venom

Whispers encircle my neck, caressing the curve of my ear as they descend, sweetly absorbed into the vestiges of a primal need, filling with elixir so potent and intoxicating, rational thought is elusive.

Venom rips through torn flesh; acid burning through tissue built strong over years of careful tending, laying waste in seconds to the once impenetrable fortress. Fangs retreat; still no method of complete extraction exists. Scar tissue forms. The fortress is weaker and less beautiful from the damage.

Sweet nothings.