I could feel his heart beating desperately like it was crawling across my skin. His whole body quivered at my touch and I could feel how much he wanted me, but not in the way I was going to allow. He wanted my blood – my soul – my life. But I was hypnotised, probably by those changing eyes, but also by the danger. Any moment he could lose control. He was frantically trying to hold on as he nuzzled my neck but he was close to the edge of that precipice.

I'll never forget how much he wanted to kill me. To see your own death etched into the face of the one you love makes you remember how fragile life is. If he was to kill me, I would want it to be now. His passion knew no limits, caused by his own conflict about whether to kill or save. But underneath it all I knew that he hated me. I had made him feel again. But neither of us could let the other go. I couldn't bear to live without him and he was addicted to me. We were like a drug to each other, and one that neither was willing to give up.