Your lover watched you feed from the rabbit in your hands like a beast. Your sharp fangs had sunken themselves deep within the young animal’s neck as you sucked the blood with a hunger like no other.

He knew how hard it was for you as a vampire. Andrius sympathized with your hungry. It reminded him of how the moon would take control and make him into a mindless animal.

The scars on his face were visible under the light of the few oil lamps you had around the house. Andrius glanced to the calendar. December 20, 1881. It had been almost three years since you became his mate. His one good eye gazed at you, before gently tugging the rabbit’s corpse from your hand, “You’re weak,” he muttered in that serious tone of his. He used his thumb to wipe the blood from your lips.

Brushing the black and white hair from his neck, he offered it to you as a meal, “Drink,” he said, though it was more of a command. The black and white ears at the top of his head twitched.

This was new and strange, drinking the blood of a werewolf, however so was your union. A forbidden sort of love between a vampire and a werewolf—surely, it couldn’t end well. He had already been exiled from his pack for loving you, but it didn’t matter. You were the only one who did matter.

There was warmth as he ran his fingers through your hair and guided your head to his neck.