#1 bite

SCOTT HOWL.          sniff. sniff. he gets a whiff of oz’s shirt. the alpha  is getting obsceanly close, sniffing his hair    a sense of dread creeps, rises, and swallows the room in bloodlust. ‘ i smell it. ‘ he whispers. ‘ i smell it. ‘ you can’t hide it. ‘ i smell. . . ‘ his maw opens, teeth like knives, dripping with saliva s ‘ i smell peanut butter. ‘ he doesn’t close his mouth around Oz’s hand, that’d be rude, however. . . he does. . . hover over it. lips so close you couldn’t wedge a paper between him and oz’s sandwich. the werewolf looks to oz, impatiently waiting. . . . hoping to partake in the deliciousness.  // &&. @purelyfear