CHAINED: When death and life combine, it's sinfully delicious.

She felt zapped of energy, as it drained from her like a dying battery, and she was suddenly overcome with fatigue. She felt herself falling face first, into an abyss of unconsciousness, her dreams stretching out in front of her, and she was careless to stop it. She needed to recharge, and she could sleep for hours, completely oblivious to the fact he had drank from her. She was so surprisingly tired to the bone, and she owed it all to his amazing love making. He was shockingly, the best she’d ever had, and her fantasy of not being able to walk the next morning was waiting to be fulfilled. She thought, maybe, her first impression of him may have been incorrect. She was happy she had invited him in, and wanted him to screw her again, very soon. She could barely lift her heavy lidded eyes, so she could look over and thank him, before drifting off. She started to pull him closer, so they could spoon while she slept. Although it seemed too intimate for them, but she didn’t care, she wanted to feel him. And when she finally brought her eyes up to meet his face, where he was looming over her, watching her, a bloodcurdling scream that reverberated throughout the room shredded its way through her chest, her tiredness fading into that of oblivion.
She scrambled exhaustedly, dizzily, to the left corner of the bed, away from him, as much as she could manage, trying to make herself appear as small as possible.
The blood, her blood, was oozing from his lips, down to the tip of his chin, and terror seized her with the force of a hurricane. Gripping her by the throat and squeezing as hard as it could.
Her hand flew to cup her burning left breast, and she hissed when her flesh came in contact with the incredibly deep bite mark, causing a ripple effect of pain, that stretched throughout her entire body.
With tears welling in her eyes, from the excruciating pain, and from the fear grappling her, she had to know, had to hear it from his mouth.
“You bit me?” Her voice was barely a whisper, a pathetic rasp, but the rage couldn’t be missed. She felt sick to her core, and was dry and itchy all over. “What the hell are you?”