Your fangs gently pressed to his neck, but no incision was yet made by them. You hesitated. Your boyfriend, Scaramouche, didn’t try to wriggle from your inhuman grasp. His breathing was heavy and labored, but he wasn’t fighting against this.

You’d kept it in, didn’t let him find out what you were. A vampire, a creature of the night. A monster. But tonight was different, and you just.. couldn’t help yourself from the temping hunger and the smell of his blood.