One would have thought that after thousands of years of contemplation over it, it would have made it easier to explain what it was to be a dhampir. But the concept of it was so beyond words, beyond thought, that while Desmond could have described it, it would have filled so many volumes that humans would have needed to dedicate years of their lives to having read it, to studying it, and even then it would have been with dense verbage. He had read accounts of what it was like to first see the world with vampire eyes... but to live with the dichotomy of it, to be forced to deal with the schitzophrenia of being one creature then another over and over again, day in and day out was not something that could fully be brought into words. And therein lay the problem. It was somewhat easy to describe the transition, how life changed from being a human to being a vampire... but what if there were no transition, what if there were no comparison other than during the day you thought that you were... in some sense... mostly human?
And as hard as it was to describe the general life... it was harder still to describe the bloodlust that flowed through his veins. Desmond had heard it compared to drugs, and it was as close of an analogy as he could have guessed, having seen it's effects on other people, but even so, drugs implied cures, drugs implied being able to will yourself through such an addiction. Blood was not the same... the darkness that came with bloodlust was almost like another creature inside of you, or perhaps rather something darker, and more primal. It was as if there were something inside of you that was capable of acting without conscience or care about consequences or social norms, or even those that you loved. And yet at the same time it was so much worse than a mere split personality waiting to take over your mind when you did not think about it...
For it felt good to give into the beast. The allure of it... letting yourself go into that senselessness was something more powerful than any drug, more alluring than any female body... more religious than any temple or act of god. Instead it was more like becoming a diety yourself... if perhaps only in the sensation of it. It allowed one to become stronger, faster, more powerful... but less controlled. And yet to ride that high was an experience that most of those who had vampire blood in their veins had to struggle with day in and day out. Those that mastered it were those that gave into it slightly, a small scrap of meat to feed the ravenous appetite, and yet as time went on... eventually everyone would fall prey to it...
And Desmond had been no exception... though in his case it had been something more repugnant... a violation... something that caused his stomach to churn to think about...
Yet even so, as Raina kissed him her prescence hit his will power like a freight train. She had no idea the kind of mental preparation that it took to be around people, especially the innocent ones. But even that did not compare then to someone that you had feelings for, had desires for, feeling it magnified in such a way that mixed with the usual blood lust to assault the system over and over again. So it wasn't really so much of a surprise that Desmond slipped, that he let himself give into it, or rather, he felt the animal inside of him slip from his senses, moving to take what it wanted, kissing her roughly, wandering his hands across her supple young body.
But he had barely managed to reign it in, stopping the creature from wreaking complete havock that it had wanted to. He took a slow breath and tried to control his breathing. She told him to stop, to stop trying to fight, but she had no idea what it was that she was talking about. Even so, her words were like a siren song in his ears as he felt his knees get a bit weak at the idea of just letting go. She had no idea how hungry she made him... both for her blood and for her body... She couldn't possibly understand it.... no, she could, he could make her.. but he wouldn't. To force blood on someone healthy would be akin to a rape of the senses, and she likely wouldn't be able to handle the desire the way that he could... the way that he should be able to.