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Chapter 25: Strange
Marcellus really didn't want to have to do this, but he had no choice. If he wanted to save this stupid girl's life, he had to get the poison out of the wound. And it happened that he had a pair of fangs that could perfectly tear into flesh.
The problem was that he'd have to bring himself to stop. He'd spent so long without drinking human blood that he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist it. If he couldn't, he'd be betraying all the ideals he'd worked so hard to uphold.
Humans weren't meant to be food. They were as smart as Hova, and if he was honest, much better than the people of his race. Humans worked together to make their lives better; the Hova lived their lives scared of one another, constantly vying for a way to get ahead at the cost of other people.
Marcellus couldn't really blame them, though. It had been his father who made the Hova that way. His reign of terror was almost one hundred years old, and a century of living in fear could do things to you
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