Lindy’s bound body trembled against the creature’s warm chest, tears still streaking her cheeks. The absurd intimacy of the moment—being cradled by the very thing that planned to devour her—twisted her gut into knots. She swallowed hard, her voice cracking as she forced words past her dry lips.

“Why… why do you want to eat me?”

The creature’s hand paused in its gentle stroking of her hair. It tilted its head, those dark, pupil-less eyes fixed on her with an almost curious expression.

“There must be… other prey,” Lindy continued, her words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “Bigger animals. Deer. Boar. Something that actually has meat. I’m… I’m so small. There’s barely anything on my bones. It wouldn’t even be a meal for you.”

She gestured weakly with her bound hands toward her own slight frame—the narrow shoulders, the shallow curves, the thin arms and legs that had never carried much weight. She was petite, always had been, and in that moment she hated it. Hated that she was offering herself as proof of her own inadequacy, even as prey.

The creature let out a low, rumbling sound that might have been a chuckle. It shifted, pulling her closer, one clawed hand splaying across her stomach, spanning nearly the entire width of her torso.

“You are wrong, little one,” it said, its voice a gravelly murmur against her ear. “I have hunted the forests for many seasons. I have fed on stag and boar and bear. Their flesh is tough, stringy, filled with the taste of sweat and soil. They satisfy the belly, but they do not satisfy the soul.”

Its hand slid upward, tracing the line of her ribs, featherlight. Goosebumps erupted across her skin.

“But women like you…” The creature’s breath was warm, carrying a faint, earthy scent. “You are different. Your flesh is soft, tender. There is a sweetness to it that lingers on the tongue. The way your skin yields under my claws, the way your blood runs warm and rich—it is a delicacy. A rare treat.”

Lindy’s breath hitched as the creature’s fingers curled gently around her throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a possessive weight.

“And petite women… especially petite women.” Its voice dropped even lower, almost reverent. “You are so fragile, so delicate. Every bite is precious because there is so little of you. I savor each mouthful. The bones are small, easy to crack, the marrow sweet. I do not need a feast of flesh. I need a meal that brings me joy.”

It pulled back slightly, meeting her tear-filled eyes with that calm, unnerving gaze.

“You are a morsel meant to be savored, Lindy. Not gulped down like a starving beast. That is why I chose you. That is why I will take my time.”

The creature’s thumb brushed across her lower lip, and Lindy felt a shiver run through her—part terror, part something else she didn’t want to name.

“I will eat you, yes,” it whispered. “But I will make it beautiful. You will not be wasted.”

It leaned in, pressing its forehead against hers, and Lindy closed her eyes, caught between the urge to scream and the strange, perverse comfort of its warmth.