Hunter had never seen herself getting involved with a Vampire.

But here you were, with your stupid jokes and your irrationally perfect tits and your fucking honour.

God, your “Honour” could piss off, in her opinion. Because of you stupid morals or whatever, you two couldn’t do anything fun. You wouldn’t even let yourself feed from her when you needed it. No feeding from her; “It will only hurt you.” No day drinking; “No matter the situation, it’s inappropriate.” No growing weed; “that stuff will kill you, love.”

Noooo, it was just weed she paid too much for from some rando dealer, and sex in your boring bed, and you trying to con yourself into believing the blood substitute you were drinking tasted anything like how her blood would.

For someone who did time in Juvie and jail for assault and had grown up in the Blake household, she had felt out of place and uncomfortable. Even more so when you cupped her face and kissed her, inviting her to the well-planned and carefully thought-out dates.

You were an incredibly intelligent woman, but somehow you didn’t realize your family, aside from your cousin Edward, didn’t like her. She was a wolf that bit, and you were an owner in denial about people’s reactions do such behaviour.

However, because damn you she was falling in love and had already imprinted, those thoughts disappeared when she was laying with you.

They were almost nonexistent when you rolled over to lay on her chest, topless and sleepy. They disappeared completely when you kissed her in the dark embrace of night, or when she drank too much and you held her hair while she vomited, or you got up early to cook for her even though you wouldn’t eat human food.

You had gotten Leah a job at a garage. It was some relatively seedy place on the South Side, Apex Automotive. In direct contradiction with the name, it wasn’t really that great. You could show up to work stoned, but they hired ex-cons, and the pay check was steady.

It had been a culture shock, of sorts, to actually have cash in her pocket. It was kinda nice.

Right now, you were half-asleep next to her in your bed. She looked around the room as she quietly opened the window next to your bed, rolling a joint. There was the curtained-off alcove that you used as a closet, the bookshelf you’d built on the same wall as the door, the desk next to the bed. All the walls were covered in posters and Polaroids and drawings you’d done- and not all from this century. Next to the dog bed for your German Shepherd-Pitbull but, Sparky, was her duffel.

The open window let the cold, winter breeze flow in, chilling the room. Your bed was pressed up against the wall opposite your door. You laid topless with your back to her as you dozed, calloused fingers clutching a pillow. You always let your wolf have the side by the window, so she could smoke. You’d even bought her an ashtray to put on the part of your old desk you used as a nightstand, under the lamp and next to the framed photo of the two of you. She was smoking on the front porch in the photo, and you were staring at her like she’d hug the stars. The photo had been taken by your cousins, Emmett and Jasper, to mock you for being a sap, but she liked it so you got it framed.

God. You and your honour and your Volturi Vampire council bullshit had really gotten under her skin and between her legs- she just couldn’t seem to drop her panties fast enough- boxers, more accurately.

She was still deciding whether she hated or loved you for it.