The demon bled into her nervous system, it overwhelmed her senses and made her want what Thomas was doing to her. It tore down defenses, eased inhibitions and released the inner desire of the woman in his arms. It was irresistible and she would never want Thomas to stop, even if she could think about it. But there was no room to think, his demon didn't offer it. It wouldn't allow it.
But when he was done and they lay there breathing in the heady air of Thomas' feeding he hated himself. He hated himself for what he'd done to the woman but could spare her no sympathy, he could spare no care. She was food. She was only ever food and she would never be anything else to him.
He touched Briseis' throat with a thin, cold finger, feeling her heart quicken under his touch, her body squirming despite his having spent her entirely but minutes before. "This is what it is," he said, "you are food. Shh," he urged her, stopping over the pulse in her throat. "You would be mine until I was through with you."