He made a noise when she stabbed herself and it was a soft little moan, a draw of his breath. His lips parted just a tiny bit, his eyes dilated. Seeing blood, seeing carnage, was always an aphrodisiac and she was beautiful standing there with the metal piercing her arm.
He reached for her wrist again, touched her hand instead as he drew her arm closer to inspect. He tilted his head, studying the wound. “Are you plugged in to all the nerves?” he asked curiously, knowing it was a stolen body. His thumbnail traced her lifeline, moved to catch some of the blood. He brought it to his lips, sucked.