She cried out, hungrily. She knew that he was right. She could tell it as she lay here, desperately wanting him, even though she was spent and sore and exhausted. He was right. She knew he was. Why wouldn't he be? He knew himself better than she knew him. She'd never denied that.
But her mind went to him, to understand what he must be feeling. How horrible it must be, to have that need, to fear hurting others as he so obviously did. His resistance to her offer proved that.
"I am afraid," she said softly and honestly, forcing herself to sit up. "Of what you became. But I think...if it is starving, it is more dangerous, is it not? You have to feed. You have to have food. Please. Let me do that. Let me have a purpose."