B stood up from his victim and scanned the area for anyone who might see. He looked down at the body he'd just murdered and reached a hand down to its head. B stroked the spot where the body had taken a blow from his own fist. There was blood. Quarts of blood. When he reached back up, his hand was covered in it. Beyond raised his hand to his nose and smelled the sweet scent. Then he proceeded to lick it. It was his addiction; he couldn't help his desire for it. The taste was better than the greatest orgasm his Lawliet could ever bestow upon him. He stroked his bloody hand from his forehead, between his eyebrows, down his nose—smelling the blood once again—and to his mouth, where he licked the rest of it off, leaving a trail of red along the way. He looked down at the body. It was the man he'd sworn to hate no matter what. The man he'd vowed to murder one day because of what he'd done—or tried to do—to his L. The man was Raito Yagami, and never had someone's blood ever tasted sweeter.
