Drusilla giggled. "Thinks I'm after her skin and bones," she whispered before she shook her head. "No, no," she corrected with a wagging forefinger. "Those are scraps for the dogs, for the rats. What I should want is what pulses red hot through your veins."
She chuckled again. "Drinking down my dinner every night," she murmured. "Always a puppy or a kitty but why not a child? They are puppies to me ..."
But she was perfectly content with the dogs and cats she found in her room. They'd mocked Angelus for dining on rats; how was this so very different? Her brow furrowed as she struggled to work that one out.
She could eat the child, but she wasn't driven to do so. She was more or less sated, though there was still the factor of sport.
Wondering what would happen if she chased, Dru cocked her head to one side.