The heartbeat was the first thing Terrence noticed, and relief flooded his body. It weakened him for a moment, but only for a moment. Then she was awake, and in the split second before she moved, it all came rushing back: the way her simple, living existence made his blood burn hotter in his veins, and not only with desire. He had held up just fine with her dead, but just fine was - as it had been for a long time - a step down from Terrence's normal status with Ella in his life. She made fun more fun, made food taste better, made his laughter louder, made him the best of himself even as she reduced him down to his most basic, primal core.
He felt all of that again, as soon as her eyes opened. And then, faster than even he could react - though admittedly, his reflexes were slower now than they usually were - he was off his feet and being propelled back against the tent pole. His head cracked dangerously against, and he felt many of the wounds along his back open again, but the pain of it only made his heartbeat race even more.
It didn't matter if he was hurt, not anymore. If this was too much for him, it didn't matter if he died. She could be responsible for his life now; there was no way in hell he was stopping her, not when this was the best he'd felt in days.
His gaze was heated as he watched her, and something clicked in his mind when he saw her fangs, though for the moment it remained in his subconscious. Even if he'd been capable of rational thought upon seeing them at first - and that was debatable, considering the grip she had on his neck and the hungry look in her eyes - she destroyed that completely when her mouth touched his skin.
Terrence liked pain just fine, wasn't bothered by any of the numerous wounds that covered his body, whether for vanity or other reasons, but they were not the usual marks that he carried around. Battle scars were something to be proud of, that was all well and good, but his skin craved the wounds she left with her nails and teeth, the ones that made his blood heat when she wasn't even around, just from his shirt shifting over them and reminding him that they were there. And he wanted, as much as that or more, to touch her skin and feel warmth, feel life-blood coming out of her veins. Part of him had registered that her touch was cooler than normal, but that didn't matter - she was alive.
The growl started deep in his chest and rumbled out of him as he lowered his head to bite down on the crook of her neck, hands sliding up under her shirt and ripping at it. She could be languid about it all she bloody well liked, but she hadn't been alive the last three days. He was hungry for more than just the taste of her.