The steaming, iron-rich scent of the venison hit my senses, and in that exact heartbeat, the savage beast inside me ripped through its chains. Resting upon one of the magnificent silver platters was a whole deer heart, heavily smoked with wild thyme and juniper wood; its exterior was charred to a deep black, but the inside remained as crimson and raw as a dying ember.
There was absolutely no trace left of my usual delicate, slow-ass soul—the girl who would typically take two hours just to finish a single hamburger with small, reluctant bites. I threw my fork and knife onto the table, the silver clattering loudly against the wood.
My palms were immediately coated in the warm, greasy residue of the meat as I dug both hands into the flesh, gripping the heavy heart and pushing it straight into my mouth. My teeth tore ruthlessly into the dense, tightly coiled muscle tissue, and I didn't even bother to wipe the warm juices escaping the corners of my lips.
