Damon and the others didn't have much time before sunset, so they built a fire and began roasting the flesh of the monster they had caught from the water.
The rest of its body was left scattered among the pile of scraps they had salvaged from the wreckage.
They would have to put out the fire the moment night fell, leaving them in the cold, damp darkness of the island.
Because what came after dark… was far worse than the chill.
Damon held a piece of the meat, sinking his teeth into it with a large bite. His stomach growled, rumbling with a hunger that had become a constant companion—a hunger this kind of flesh couldn't satisfy.
Not really.
That hunger stemmed from the fact he only kept his shadow barely fed.
He had long since learned how to manage the aggression that came with that hunger. To keep it under control. To keep himself under control.
