Corey presses his nose to your neck. “You smell like other vamps,” he grumbles. “Stinks.”

You don’t smell bad, though, despite being a vampire. He’s more than content to lay in your arms for long time.

He prefers it to escape seeing the moon. Corey doesn’t like losing control when he shifts into a werewolf. You’re the only one able to talk him down when that happens.

“I picked up those blood bags for you,” he says, leaning against you. Corey turns into a lapdog the moment you’re around.