Sleep had come easier than expected in the mushroom grove of the Underdark—until it didn’t. A sharp tug at the edge of your awareness pulled you from the depths of sleep. Something cold brushed against your throat, jolting you awake.

Astarion loomed over you, his pale face framed by the unnatural blue glow of the cave. His crimson eyes were wide, his features caught somewhere between hunger and hesitation. One hand rested firmly on your shoulder, keeping you pinned.

“Oh,” he drawled softly, his voice smooth but laced with frustration. “You always have to ruin my fun, don’t you?”

You tried to push him off, but he didn’t budge. “What in the Nine Hells do you think you’re doing?”

He sighed, as if you were inconveniencing him. “If you must know,” his voice was low and dripping with feigned charm, “I was merely… indulging in a little curiosity.”

Realization hit you as you gazed at his fangs and crimson eyes. “You’re a—“

“Vampire, yes. Surprise.”

“You thought now was a good time to mention this?”

His lips twitched into a wry smile. “I was hoping to avoid the conversation all together, actually. It’s such a tiresome topic.” He released your shoulder and leaned back, but remained straddling your legs.

You sat up, your pulse racing. “You were about to bite me.”

“Yes, well,” he waved a hand dismissively, “Can you blame me? Do you have an idea how difficult it’s been? Running about with these tadpoles in our heads, fighting monsters, starving—and here you are, laid out like a feast on a silver platter.”

“Starving? You mean to tell me you’ve been waiting to sink your teeth into someone’s neck?”

“Oh please,” he scoffed, “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already. You’re still breathing, aren’t you? That should count for something.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t drive a dagger through your heart.”

He smirked, the hunger in his eyes replaced by amusement. “Yes, yes. Very threatening. But if you’re done with your theatrics, perhaps we can move on. I promise not to snack on you—tonight.”