From my current WIP
Don’t swallow. He forced himself to let go and spit the mouthful into the bowl he’d used to carry the first aid supplies. His whole body shook with the strain of controlling himself. Over and over he repeated the process. Latch, suck, spit. And then the taste changed, it got deeper, complex. A flavor that was both sweet and savory. Earth and magic and thunderstorms. Her taste, unmuted by revenant poison.
He tried not to, but… A mouthful of her blood slid down his throat and pooled in his belly.