In a moment he had tasted of her living blood.

"If you put everything in the pot, it will taste of nothing."

There was no other place which tasted so strongly of home.

He tastes of metal, and it's a good thing or we'd've never come to see him in the first place!

But even so, my mouth tasted of something like ashes.

The rag in her mouth tasted of blood, old and new.

It tasted somewhat of smoke, but I had half expected that.

It tasted of salt and something else - his seed.

But the food tasted of ashes as he forced it down.

The water tasted slightly of minerals that were probably good for me.