There’s something soft about loving him- to others he’s a beast, all fur and bared canines and anger, but to me he falls docile, and rather than taming him, the wolf tames me.
I am all the angst of the victorians, I am bloody and fanged and poised in my pious immortality, yet I let him collar me, take my hands in his, and I fall on my knees to him;
vampires are never one to find religion, but being with him feels holy and pure.










