[ he senses it -- that tenseness, that fear -- and he is trembling as he leans in to lap at that lovely wound.
a quiet noise burbles up from the back of his throat. he is in a frenzy, the coppery taste of blood drawing out the wild, animal instinct in him. it suffocates the mind, suffocates the thoughts, threatens to overheat the high-functioning machine that is piter de vries, the mentat.
he straddles jaq as nothing more than a man for an instant, squeezing his wrists tightly, too tightly perhaps, and sucking greedily at his oozing blood.
but then jaq struggles, jerking forward, and he sinks his teeth into the man's neck. but his grip on his wrists loosens ever so lightly, and the racing thoughts return, the strategies and hypotheses and obfuscating logic --