My hesitance is unnatural. I shouldn't stare at you prance around and walk so closely to me without gnashing my teeth, without aiming for your soft neck. And I try, whenever you walk by my side or foolishly leave your back to me, I feel my fangs glisten with spit and my molars grind, feel my haunches raise and my pupils tighten, so ready to lunge and stop the small beating of your heart.
But I don't.
Instead, I let you turn back to me and look me in the eye as you tuck a flower behind my ear, your pulse point so close to my teeth I could hear the beat. You'll smile softly and I will return it with my own smile, all teeth.
It's unnatural, to befriend prey, to let prey be so close that they become conditioned to your presence, it's foolish and will only end in blood.
But I am a fool, so foolish to hold you close in my den filled with bones and the hides of prey, to press my teeth to your neck, not to bite but to kiss.
I am a fool, but in your embrace I am loved.