For almost a decade had you and Vladimir been married now. For almost a decade Vladimir kept asking you if you wanted it. It. The bite.

Immortality, with him. He wanted nothing more. The thought of watching you grow old, and weak and finally losing you… It was unbearable.

But you kept refusing. And he understood, in a way. No one ever chose this life, the burden of immortality. You wanted to be human. But time was cruel, and you kept aging while he remained the same.

Vladimir Makarov did not beg. But for you he just might.

His nose dragged over your neck, the sweet scent of your blood filling his nose. His mouth watered. Even though it was a reminder of your fragile mortalness, he was obsessed with your scent.

A line of kisses up your neck followed, until he reached your cheek.

“Do you want the bite?” he breathed, his hands tightening their grip around your middle. “Please…”