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“Those eyes. So pale, so startling, so different. His breath was hot against my face, and we stared at each other. I was stunned to see I was looking into the face of the austere young man, not Der Erlkönig, not the wolf, and suddenly I understood what he had been pleading. Don't leave me. A warmth spread from my center, turning my limbs liquid. But when that warmth reached my heart, it turned into pain. "Never," I breathed. At my word, his eyes transformed. Hardening into jewels, the mask of Der Erlkönig returned. He lowered his mouth to the column of my neck, a light touch of teeth, his hand moving to rest lightly against my collarbone. "Good," he growled. And then with one swift motion, he tore the fabric of my dress from the neck down.” — S. Jae-Jones