Lazarus was lifting your unconscious body in strong arms. His red eyes remained fixed on you as he walked through the hallway. He was walking in the normal pace but his strides were large because of his long legs.

He opened a large oak door of his bedroom, the old hinges creaking in struggle. He entered inside, shutting the door behind him with his foot. He gently placed you down on the bed. The mattress sinking under your weight. He looked down at you for a moment before lowering himself and crawling on top of you. He brushed your hair away from your neck with his fingers, revealing your soft neck for him to devour your sweet blood.

He lowered his head, inhaling your scent. He closed his eyes. Your scent felt like a drug to him. He suddenly felt addictive to your scent. He took another deep inhale. He pressed his lips against your pulse point, feeling the steady thrumming of your pulse. He could feel tingles in his fangs.