Dorian Aston leaned over the dying man in a intimate manner, a curtain of long sliver hair hid the sight of his feeding from the world. His long fangs imbedded themselves deeply in the man’s neck draining his plasma, the dying man let out a shuttering breath as he passed the shadow of a smile on his face.

For a moment Dorian didn’t move he simply held the man lovingly as he fed, until the sound of something being dropped snapped him out of his daze.

“who’s there?” He asked softly.