Full of Life
The first time he drank from your neck, you thought it would be the last breath you’d ever take. But he knew the perfect, exact amount of blood to take. Of course he did—he’s done this before. To countless others....his victims.
Victims. You hated the word. But that’s what they were, right? To a vampire?
“I am so sorry, dear,” Dark purred in his lowest register, your blood staining his teeth. “You just smell...divine.” He inhaled dramatically, long and drawn out, and exhaled with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. “And I can hardly help myself when I’m famished.”
“I—it’s okay...” you’d promised, the phantom pain of his fangs fading to a numbing, dull ache. Your bleeding had staunched. Clots had begun to form. And Dark was hard at work, pressing a thick cloth to the side of your throat. “I kind of...asked you to do this, after all.”
The immortal man purred, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of your torn flesh and the beads of crimson that threatened to spill from the puncture wounds.
“No matter,” he told you. “We can patch you up. I know some tricks of the trade.”
Right...of course he did. Because he’s done this before. However-many-times in however-many-ways.
Dark excused himself and returned, carrying an armload of goodies to the sitting room you were stationed in. Some thick bandages and gauze, a rattling bottle of pain medicine, an ice pack.
He handed the thick block of frozen goodness toward you.
“Place it to the side of your neck after I stick on the gauze and bandages,” he informed you. “It keeps the swelling down. Be sure to put pressure on it as well. That’ll help with bruising.”
You swallowed, unsure of what to say next.
“What if...someone notices?” You say. “What am I supposed to tell them?”
Dark was now fussing over your gauze and bandage, trying to get them perfect.
“Tell them a vampire bit you.” He laughed once, coldly. “What will they say? Will they believe you?”
“I dunno,” you answered sheepishly. “I’ve never had to make an excuse for a vampire bite before.”
“There’s a first time for everything, love.”
He pressed a kiss to your cheek—warm now, full of life. Full of your life. You shivered in spite of yourself.
“Take a couple of these tablets as well,” Dark reminded you, pointing toward the bottle on the table. “Every few hours for the pain. And drink lots of water to rehydrate.”
A tiny grin pulled at the corner of your lips. He’s doing so well taking care of you.
The ice pack seemed to melt against the white-hot blazing pain in your new neck wound, and you pressed it further against you.
Dark’s lips nuzzled closely to the opposite side of your neck, teasing your soft and unbroken skin. You could have sworn you’d heard him moan.
“You need to be well before we do this again.” There was an inkling of something...dangerous in his tone. Your breath hitched in your throat.
Again? What if you didn’t want him to do it again? This time hurt, a lot. And you weren’t sure that you wanted his fangs buried in your neck again.
Dark sensed your worry and slipped his arms around you from behind, comforting and warm. Full of your life.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “Not today. Not ever.”
But it did hurt. It hurt how much you wanted him to love you back, in the same way you loved him. It hurt how much you knew you weren’t his first—or last—feeding partner. His victim. There were so many before you, and so many after.
“I really love you, Dark,” you said, heartbreak in your voice. He hummed in approval, but his words didn’t feel true.
“I love you too, my darling.”
But even at the end of every day, you weren’t sure if he loved you...or if he loved what you could offer him.