Desmond's eyes quietly watched as he saw the change come over her body. He recognized the signs of it, now that he was looking for it. There was a time when he might have pressed such an advantage, to cause her heart to quicken even further, feel the blood rushing through her veins, to see her outside of the clothing that bound her. To know what she felt like. But then, he reminded himself with no small sense of irony, he had already caught a glimpse of what lay beneath that flimsy looking top that she wore. And though he could feel his body protest at the idea of it, his days of seducing women were something that he had put behind him. It was not a time that he was particularly proud of, but it was a phase he wondered if all people didn't go through at some point, the desire to explore with reckless abandon without worrying about the consequences of such actions. Not when it came to lust, assuredly, but other things as well, danger, drugs, it seemed that someone always had something that they had thrown caution to the wind on, for one period of time in their lives.
Her nails on his arms brought back those memories of being touched, of being loved. There was a hint of Magdelena in them, but there was also a touch of others as well. Would it be so wrong, to take flight from his chaste nature after so long and just give into the desire to claim her here and now? She certainly didn't make the proposition of resisting his own lustful nature a simple choice, that much was certain. He knew that he could do it without drinking from her, but he also could tell that the way that she was looking at him was not simple lust either. When he had lived as a gambler with women's hearts, he had broken more than his fair share of them, and he knew the difference between an eager housewife looking to pass the time while her husband was in another town, and a young girl who was desperately dreaming of the man of her dreams, a dream he knew that Raina was transposing onto him.
But even his nature couldn't turn from the fact that her questions were too close to what they had asked him, mockingly, as they'd poured blood down his gullet until he'd been choking on it. Raina couldn't possibly understand the feeling of one's own body betraying you, wanting something so much that you would have begged, killed to get more and at the same time having your mind wretch against the very idea of what you were doing. To realize that you had no control in that moment over anything whatsoever, that you were at the mercy of a creature that wanted nothing more than to see everything that you were completely destroyed. And there was no way that she could, no way that Desmond wanted her to know. But all the same it made him naseuous to think of that time, to remember the taste of blood against his lips that he could not help, to hear the echoes of his cries begging for more desperately.
With a purpose he took his hands on his shirt and pulled it over the muscles there, stretching it over the tight set of washboard abs that he had, feeling the wet cloth still clinging to it. He knew that it would not perhaps help his spell over Raina be any less effective, but it would mean that he could simply leave her, vanish off into the night if that was what he desired, and she would not be able to stop him, nor would she have something of his that she could obsess over, save for a memory, and those could be so fleeting to the young that he might be forgotten in a week, if he were lucky. Then again, she might never forget him either, and that was a frightening prospect. To have the ability to affect someone so deeply as to alter their life forever was not something Desmond wanted to have, but it was a power that he had to recognize.