Savannah's POV
I never bothered reading Alan's Divine Comedy, but perhaps I should have since it might have prepared me for this personal hell. In such a short time, I've experienced drowning, burning, and now this desperate hunger that consumes every rational thought.
Like some demon has taken possession of my body, I watch in absolute mortification as I claw and press myself against Jonathan, who clearly wishes he could disappear into thin air.
My inner voice screams in protest while my traitorous fingers work their way beneath his shirt, ripping through buttons with reckless abandon. His hands struggle to keep me upright as my legs threaten to give out completely.
At least Jonathan had the foresight to drag us into this private room before the wine's effects took complete control.
