please ask me about my vampires

A green clawed hand appeared, curling around the door, followed by a burst of blonde hair and fury. Sunday stood, breathing hard and arms outstretched. Fear slid into Nate’s stomach. She was like a starved wild cat, sensing meat for the first time in months.

Sunday stalked forwards, leering up at him. “Killing you myself would be a waste of my time. You’re not worth the energy.” Her voice was dogged, slowed down by her deep panting.

Nate stepped back, ignoring the slick, oily fright building in him. The sharp, clawing pain of skin tearing came back to him.

“Okay.” A small twigging of satisfaction rose as her face twisted further into fury.

“Okay. That’s all you have to say? For ruining everything?”

Nate looked around, nonplussed. “I was doing fine until you got here.”

“Nothing is fine any more. Because being a little baby about ‘doing the right thing’ doesn’t help in this world. Enjoy the morals while they last. If you’re smart, they won’t last long.”

“Right, well, who was the one who said it was fine to feed here?” He hovered out of her reach, unsure what her next move was.

Sunday curled her lip. “Don’t even try putting this on me.” She lunged forwards.

He wouldn’t let her win this one. A flash of green obscured his vision as her talons descended. Nate threw up his hands, his own less impressive set of claws digging into her face. He needed her gone. This was all just a distraction from fixing his life.

Flesh met flesh. All his fury and frustration thrust into pushing Sunday away. Her nails pricked against his skin, pinching, drawing blood. More pressure, a pained cry – his, or hers? A familiar, throbbing agony rocked up Nate’s spine, settling in his head. It swelled around his body, pulling up a wave of nausea. He cried out.