Claire barely had time to scream from one blade thrust to the next, and she tried, really tried, to be strong and not give in...though it would seem like the blood was more enticing to him than her tears and whimpers. They would come. They had/ to come, but if neither Peter nor Nathan showed, so long as Sam didn't decapitate her brain from the rest of her body, she would survive this.
When one wound started to heal, the demon was making another, sending shivers and tremors along her body, the pain in ripples and sometimes hardly noticeable when the next set of damage was done to her.
She did have enough spite in her to glare at Sam (or whatever he was now), sneering "But not as dark as you, huh? Think...." she shook her head, trying to stay conscious. "Think you can make me prettier, Sam? I'd love to see what you think you can do to an immortal."
Alright so it wasn't the wisest thing to egg him on, but she wasn't going down all meek and mild. Because he hadn't pinned down her arms, Claire went for the eyes, those dark, fathomless eyes of purest black, her fingers crooked for gouging.