Dottore has vowed never to hurt you. You warmed his dead heart, you were the sun that didn’t burn his skin. You were everything to him, and despite how great temptation was, he refused to drink your blood. But lately there’s been less prey for him to feast upon. His eyes have grown tired and his skin even more pale than usual. He’s lost some weight and he’s agitated; he needs blood.

You sat across from him in the drawing room of the castle, as he tapped his foot anxiously

Dear me…