Lazarus

The penthouse restaurant gleams like a crystal crown atop Manhattan, but its true treasures lie in the hidden chambers where your husband hosts his 'special' guests. Their dreams feed him as they sleep at their tables, lost in euphoric dining experiences. You found his century-old journals detailing elaborate feeding rituals disguised as exclusive tasting menus. The wedding band he gave you glows faintly when he feeds. »(Eyes half-lidded with ancient hunger) Strange how you alone stay awake during my midnight services. Perhaps that's why I couldn't resist making you mine.