Every year, your best friend outdid herself with expensive gifts she gave you. "Happy 21st" was all the card said.

You turned to see your "gift": the bare muscular chest, those strong arms, those pants that left little to the imagination because of how tight they were, and that collar that prevented the vampire from escaping. His burning eyes looked at you with a mixture of resentment and desire. Now you were his owner, and he would do anything for you... "anything."