B is for Biting

He handed her the glass of wine and sat next to her on the couch. The fire was burning bright and music was playing. A nice quiet date night.

woman in white shirt wearing eyeglasses
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“Thank you,” she said as she took a sip.

She looked into the fire as he looked at her. The fire was throwing red shadows on her face behind her dark hair. Her eyes even looked red with the light.

Feeling his gaze on her, she turned back to him. “What?”

“You look almost like a vampire with the firelight hitting your face,” he laughed.

“How do you know I’m not one?” she shot back quickly.

He laughed harder. “I think I might have noticed the pints of blood hiding somewhere. And there’s no coffin in the bedroom. No missing people around the area, either, that I know of.”

“How quaint,” she said, sipping her glass of wine.

He was taken aback by her response. “Quaint?”

“That you would know how a vampire lives. Dracula is a work of fiction, you know. As is Twilight. And I don’t know that anyone believes that Abraham Lincoln was actually a vampire hunter.”

“So, how does a ‘real’ one live, if you know so much?”

“Sneer away. There’s plenty you don’t know about me.”

He took a sip of wine and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was just trying to get to him. Right? Vampires aren’t real…are they?

She placed her glass on the table and leaned back against him. “Don’t worry, honey, this won’t hurt at all.” She bit his neck and he hissed at the sharp sensation, then settled in.

All thoughts of Dracula left his mind as she took him savagely on the couch.

Wicked Wednesday

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