Tina rolled her chair over to my desk, the armrest knocking into mine in a fashion she liked to call Bumper Cars. “Hey, boss wants that dynamic still by tomorrow. You done yet?” She turned to the screen I was staring at and almost flinched. “Whoa. Wow, that is not work-related.”

For the past God-knows-how-long, I’d been boring my sights into this image that I’d slashed out onto the graphics tablet. It was a drawing of the woman last night, her face clearly conveying her ecstasy. The man behind her had his face obscured by the angle at which he was biting her neck, but the telltale trails of blood dripping down her collarbone made clear what was happening. His fingers dug into her dress, seconds away from ripping it asunder to better ravish her. Piss and juices dripped down her inner thighs as she came from his fangs penetrating her.

The line art was a mess, the colors bleeding into each other, and yet the scene depicted was what brought everything into focus. Technique had bowed to inspiration here. Art derived from pure emotion.

“Jesus, Annie,” Tina muttered. “You’ve been in a pissy mood all day. Is this why?” She reached over and, with some effort, freed my stylus from my grasp and set it down. “Vampire novel had a bad ending or something?”

“Story’s not over,” I whispered with no small amount of vehemence.

She took another look at the picture, contemplating my words. “So is that not the female protagonist?” I shook my head, fighting a monstrous eye twitch. “Hoo boy… So then is the female protagonist jealous?”

That managed to yank me out of the trance I was in. “What?”

“Well the vampire is with another girl, and you’re all moody about it. Did the main girl see this happen? Wait, don’t tell me. Can you lend me the book when you’re done? This sounds spicy as fuck.” She tapped her lip with her finger, her mouth pulling into an eager smirk.

Her words finally sank in and I huffed angrily. “What’s there to be jealous of?” I muttered, somewhere between resentful and dismissive. “He’s the immortal superhuman, he does what he wants. Who needs permission from the girl? What does it matter what she thinks?” I checked the time on my phone and clicked the tablet off. “You don’t get jealous of cheaters. You dump them and move on.”

She watched me pack up my stuff, being uncharacteristically silent as she digested. “Are you and Christian okay?” she finally asked, and I froze. Christian wasn’t cheating on me because we weren’t together. I mean… were we? It would explain why I was feeling so… “Like, you just left by yourself last night. Your dress was totally ruined, and the red made me think it was blood or something!” Thank God I hadn’t drawn the background in that picture, or she might’ve been able to piece together what had actually happened.

“I guess I’m just upset about the dress,” I managed as she joined me, walking out of the office together.

“Did you manage to wash the tomato stain out?”

Bloodstain. A massive bloodstain from my abusive vampire boyfr– captor that I’d tried to murder. Ugh, I couldn’t deal with Tina right now. She was sweet and trying to help by talking things out, but I needed to be alone. “Not yet. I’ll probably watch a video tutorial online later.” I gave her a deep sigh. “I’ll probably be heading to the park. Gotta clear my mind after that… chapter I was reading.”

She nodded as we walked out into the parking lot. “Alright. Stay safe, alright? And call me anytime.” She gave me a hug and saw me off, waving as I drove away.

Rush hour traffic was mind-numbing, and helped a small measure in collecting myself. It wasn’t until I’d arrived home and set out for a walk to the park where I could let my thoughts roam, sorting through all the ugly feelings I was too afraid to address. I was jealous over Christian. That much was clear after the stunt he’d pulled with that woman last night, or even the waitress the night before. But why? Was I just one of those silly girls who fell for dangerous, abusive men? I couldn’t deny that there was a thrill I got from being around him. The peril of leaving my life in his hands, the way he wanted me, the way he pleasured me…

I sat down on a park bench, admiring the many colors blazing across the sky in the late afternoon. No Gladys today, but it was well past morning after all. I pulled out my sketchbook and let my pencil go on autopilot as I turned my attention back to Christian. He had some kind of fascination with me that he refused to explain, always dodging the question whenever I asked. He’d answered once, saying I was his prize and he wanted to enjoy me. But no matter how much he reveled in this back and forth between us, there was no reason a killer like him would still keep me around after I’d tried to slay him, twice now. I highly doubted he was in love, with the kind of hatred he had in his eyes sometimes. Obsession, then.

And I was just as obsessed with him, it seemed. Despite how dangerous he was, despite how full of contempt he was, there were moments where it felt like he… treated me well. Classic manipulation tactic. That’s how abuse often began. If this kept up, I was well on my way to becoming a battered woman at best. Had to kill him. Had to get free. Don’t listen to his sob stories or honeyed words.

As my mind rose out of the stream of consciousness I’d submerged myself in, I looked down at what I’d drawn. It was early evening now. The sun had departed, and now couples and friends were out for a nice stroll in the cooling weather, or cutting through the park to get to a restaurant. The street lamp next to the bench showed a self-portrait, of me with a beleaguered and distraught expression, arms wrapped around myself while a formless black shadow behind me rested its hands on my shoulders. I used drawing as a kind of meditation whenever I was troubled, and I’d been drawing my feelings a lot lately. As I understood it, during meditation you were supposed to clear your mind, as if thinking of nothing. Well, I wasn’t very good at thinking of nothing. Best I could manage was thinking of only one thing, and that only happened when I was drawing what I felt. This sketchbook was essentially my diary.

One of the passersby snatched it out of my hand and had sat down next to me by the time I could react. I looked over at the arrogant gentleman in a crisp suit studying my latest rendition condescendingly.

“Art imitates life, eh pet?” he mused, giving the drawing a critical once-over.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my tone clipped as I folded my arms. “Thought you had a new pet.”

Christian reached over and patted my knee reassuringly. “Fear not, I only have eyes for you,” he laughed, meeting my gaze. His words gave me butterflies, to my chagrin, and I had to put great effort into – yet again – reminding myself that he was a lying snake.

“It’s not like that,” I lied, swallowing and looking away.

He chuckled, folding the book closed while using his thumb to save the page. “No, of course not.” He reached over and hooked my chin with a finger, his cool touch making my skin tingle with excitement. “Before you ask, she’s alive and well, most likely preparing for another night out on the town. Perhaps roping some schmuck into paying for her dinner. And you’ll be pleased to know…” That maddening smirk graced his lips as he drew near. A hand on the opposite side of my neck prevented my escape, and his breath brushed my throat as he dropped to a whisper. “…she tasted rancid. I missed you, pet…”

His fangs slipped into my flesh effortlessly, and my eyelids fluttered as he began feeding on me. Had I just let him bite me? I placed my hand on his chest to resist, but my fingers glided up around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Ugh, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he could make me feel so good. It would have been so much easier to deal with him if I wasn’t hooked on this feeling, but therein lay the problem. I whimpered with relief, and he groaned in response. God, we were in public, completely out in the open with no cover to hide behind. Well, I supposed it just looked like we were necking, and realistically he could compel any busybodies to leave us alone. In that case, maybe he could keep going just a bit longer then.

All too soon, he released me and gave me a little lick, sealing the bite marks. I was left panting when he reclined and spread his arms across the back of the bench, my mind still fuzzy from either the pleasure or the blood loss. “Happy?” he crooned.

Instinctively, I held my hand to where he’d bitten me, shuffling away from him a bit. “Animal,” I hissed, to which he responded with a nonchalant brow raise. “Give me back my book.”

“What’s this then…?” He flipped it back open to find the piece I’d done of him hanging over me with oppressive intent. He grunted once upon studying the drawing, his expression an inscrutable mix of amusement and something else. “A pity party self-portrait. Ever the narcissist.”

“You’re projecting again,” I growled, clenching my fists in my lap. He was the one going through my thoughts put on paper, yet had the audacity to say I was making things about me? I quashed the urge to wrestle the book back from him, knowing it was pointless.

“Maybe we’re meant for each other,” he mused jokingly, turning back a page. “And who’s this?”

“Gladys. An old lady I chat with sometimes whenever I go for morning walks.” I actually managed a scoff. “Guess that means you’ll never meet her.”

“And what would I do with an old bag like that anyway?” he retorted with an eye roll before continuing to flip through the pages, sighing. “Drawing on paper. What a waste of time.” He snapped the book shut and chucked it back at me. I fumbled a bit before catching it, already feeling defensive.

“And what was I supposed to do, o ancient one? Take up sculpting?” I replied sarcastically.

“Preferably not ice,” he quipped.

“Right, because only things that last matter.” I scowled, shaking my head at his narrow worldview.

“There’s a hundred Chinese watercolor paintings that nobody has ever heard of, because moths ate the silk they were painted on,” he stated. “Meanwhile, the pyramids in Egypt still stand after thousands of years, solid limestone and granite.” He nodded down at my lap. “I could toss that book into a lake, and all your precious little ‘moments’ bleed and smudge into nothing.”

On reflex, I clutched the book to my chest. “You are just so full of hate and spite. You don’t have to ruin everything.” He shrugged irreverently, his expression blank. “Just because something lasts doesn’t mean it’s good. To end is the natural course of life.”

“Except I’m not alive,” he pointed out.

“And that’s the problem.” He raised his brow again for me to elaborate. “Anything that lives forever will inevitably become evil.”

“Bold statement!” He held out an imaginary microphone to me. “Please, could you tell us more?!”

“Asshole,” I muttered dismissively, pulling my knees up while putting my back against the bench armrest.

“No, really. Color me intrigued, pet.” He gave me a coaxing look, seemingly genuinely curious, and I sighed.

“Because you can’t die, you take life for granted. You lose everybody important to you unless they’re immortal too, in which case their existence loses meaning. You become bored and heartless, zero compassion left. Just look at the Greek gods. A giant collection of total assholes, because they had power and egos, just doing whatever they wanted because they didn’t have to bear the consequences. And it’s the mortals who suffer.” I glared at him, grinding my teeth. “Tell me you’re any different.”

“Hm.” Christian gave it some thought before slowly nodding. “Guilty as charged. I am an evil bastard, aren’t I? So you want to die, is that it? That explains the reckless attempts on my life.”

“I don’t want to die,” I stammered. “But if I manage to live a full life and grow old, I’d probably be content with going once my time was up.”

“Spoken like somebody who’s never been old or sick,” he sneered. “Just ask that crone of yours. Failing eyes, failing ears, failing brain. Everything hurts, everything’s tiring. You offer eternal youth to them, and just you watch. Not a single one of them would turn that down. We all want what we don’t have, and mortals want time.”

“Agree to disagree,” I muttered. “So what do you want? You already had dinner.”

He grinned, flashing his fangs for effect before retracting them. “I… was actually thinking of bringing you to–”

He was cut off when my phone started ringing, and I checked it. I frowned in alarm and answered immediately. “Gladys? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Anna, dear,” she said, sounding a bit flustered. “Would you mind bringing me some soup? I’ve been feeling terribly unwell and I can’t for the life of me figure out this Doorhash or some such.”

“Is everything okay?” I put her on speaker and opened a food delivery app. “Unwell how?”

“Just a mite of dizziness and nausea. And… ooh…” Her voice grew faint, and my concern began mounting.

“Gladys?” I slowly rose to my feet, feeling apprehensive.

“Oh dear, my chest is… Hah…”

“Gladys! What’s your address? I’m coming over right now!” She only managed to say the name of the apartment complex before I heard a crashing sound on her end. “Gladys? Gladys!” Shoving my sketchbook into my purse, I took off toward the building. It was nearby, but…

“Can’t you just call an ambulance?” Christian pointed out, effortlessly keeping pace with me. Even with me running at full sprint, he could match me with a light jog, seeming to almost glide along.

“I didn’t get a full address, and you know how bad traffic is. And it’s the dinner rush right now,” I panted desperately.

“And what do you plan to do once you get there?” he continued, referring to my lack of medical skills.

“I… I don’t know! Just help me find her!” Was there no directory in this place?!

As I searched desperately in the lobby for any indication of which unit she was in, Christian looked up at the ceiling for a moment, a mild look of impatience on his face. “Somebody in 7B is having a heart attack,” he announced.

I ran over to the elevator and jackhammered the button. “C’mon, c’mon!”

With an exasperated sigh, Christian scooped me up in his arms, and the sudden motion made me fling my arms around his neck. “Close your eyes,” he muttered. I was just about to ask him why, and in the blink of an eye he’d torn up six floors before setting me down at the right door on the seventh floor. My head was spinning from going up the stairwell at such breakneck speed, and I had to take a moment to collect myself and try not to puke, before frantically knocking on the door.

“Gladys? Gladys!” I shouted.

“She’s on the ground having a heart attack, how is she supposed to open the door for you?”

His calmness was infuriating. But I didn’t have time to deal with him. However, ramming my shoulder against the door was getting me nowhere. He reached over and flicked the lock, and suddenly the door swung open. Without time to marvel at the ease with which he’d done that, I rushed in and found Gladys in the living room, fallen between her couch and coffee table. Unconscious. Not good.

I quickly whipped my phone out and called for emergency services. And they told me they’d take thirty fucking minutes to arrive. “Damnit,” I cursed. She was still breathing, and there was still a pulse. I didn’t know enough about heart attacks to know what to do, and was in full panic mode. Looking up at Christian, I realized he was still stood outside, leaning against the wall. “What are you doing? Help me!”

He rolled his eyes and huffed, then casually gestured to the door frame. “Not invited,” he said simply.

“Come in and help me,” I said through grit teeth, and he stepped into the apartment before stopping again. “Christian!”

“What do you want from me?” He sat down on the couch and propped his leg up, then looked down at Gladys. “Huh. She does look astonishingly like your drawing. Not bad, pet. Your art is true to form.”

“Focus,” I snapped.

“On what? I found her, I got you up here in record time, and I broke the door open for you. One could say I’ve already gone above and beyond to help you.”

“But she’s still–!” I sputtered.

“Mm, you’re right. Looks like she fell over from the pain of the heart attack and hit her head on the coffee table.” I checked her head and sure enough, there was some blood on her scalp. Oh no. “Knocked her out, and in a couple of minutes, she’s gonna have a stroke.”

“Then what do I do?”

He shrugged, looking around her living room as if shopping for new decor. “Just let her die.”

I stared at him in horror. “What. Is. Wrong. With. You.”

He put his hands up defensively, his demeanor dripping with sarcasm. “Plenty of things. But I’m not the one who said that to end is the natural course of life.”

“Jesus Christ, this is so not the time for this!”

“On the contrary, this is exactly the time for this. Nothing better to put things into perspective than life-or-death situations. They were your own words. Let’s not be hypocrites now.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

He could still joke at a time like this. His callousness suddenly chilled me to the bone, sending a shiver down my spine and turning my stomach. I inhaled deeply to steady my breathing, shaking my head. “I… I thought… that maybe there was still some good in you. Because I can see it.” His eyes narrowed, his head lowering a fraction. “But it’s like you’re trying to hide it. Like you want me – us humans – to hate you as much as you hate us. Like you’re… rejecting your humanity.”

He took too long to respond. “It’s the weakest part of me,” he replied. “To be expunged utterly, as soon as I’m able.”

“And that means refusing to save a person who needs help?” I growled.

“How do you propose I help?” he snorted.

“I don’t know! Like… give her some of your blood or something!”

He burst out laughing, even slapping his knee once or twice while shaking his head. “Oh, you silly girl.” He cleared his throat as he got his laughter under control, eyeing me condescendingly. “Let’s say for a moment I’m willing to do that, which I’m not. My blood can heal wounds and destroy foreign agents like viruses, but it does not cure natural causes. Not unless I turn her.” I gulped. “Is that what you want? Is that what she wants? Besides, she’s coming to an end. I’d have thought you’d just let life run its course. It’s only natural, after all,” he countered. He leaned toward me, his face passive. “So why are you suddenly holding onto her? Is it because you agree that living longer is more desirable? Or are you denying her the peace you yourself espoused in order to comfort yourself?”

Shit, he’d trapped me. I stammered for a bit before supplying a weak response. “Life is precious, okay?” I finally snapped.

“I agree. That’s why I want so much of it.” He sat back victoriously, so damn pleased that he’d turned my own words against me. Angrily, I got to my feet to begin my search for aspirin. Gladys’s apartment was cozy, with a very homey and lived-in feel. Things were tidy, but it was clear that most of her belongings and furnishings were well-worn.

I had found a bottle of aspirin in her bathroom cabinet when I heard her voice calling out weakly, “Is that you, Emmett?”

Hurrying back as quickly as I could, I stopped in my tracks when Christian replied. “Yeah. It’s me, ma.”

“I miss you so much,” she sighed. As I peered into the living room, Christian was crouched over her and holding her head while she reached up to feebly touch his face. “Are you here to take me with you, sunshine?” She brushed a strand of his black hair away from his eyes before he shook his head.

“Not today, ma. Soon, but not today. Just get some rest, okay? I have some stuff to take care of.” She mumbled an affirmative before closing her eyes, and I stepped out and approached them. “I take it the son in these photos is dead.”

“I don’t know the details,” I said softly. “But I assume so as well.”

He set her back down before taking his seat back on the couch, snatching up one of the photo frames on the adjacent side table. “No pictures of him over the age of thirty, it seems. Must’ve bit the dust long ago.”

I studied him, his casual posture, the irreverent expression on his face, the dull tone in his voice. “Why did you do that?” I asked quietly.

“Because you wouldn’t shut up about these mismatched ideals of yours.” He put the frame back and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Have you made up your mind yet? You can say it. Say I’m right.” A smirk played at his lips, and I grit my teeth.

There was a knock at the door, and I snapped to attention and opened it. I was greeted by two EMTs with a stretcher and their gear. “Thank God. You’re early,” I gasped.

“Where’s the patient?” one of them asked, and I turned back to Gladys lying in the living room before noticing that Christian was already gone.

I had… so many feelings about what had just transpired, but they had to wait. Gladys was carried out and transported to a hospital, where I found out that I was listed as her emergency contact. Her son really wasn’t in the picture anymore. As I went through the paperwork, I couldn’t get my mind off the scene of Christian comforting her. The doctors had told me that she had indeed suffered a heart attack, head trauma, and a stroke, and while things were still dire, she was in better condition than they expected. As they were hooking her up to the machines, I spied a red spot on the pad of her left thumb. The nurses had cataloged a small nick on the finger before cleaning it.

I stayed with her until visiting hours were over, all the while pondering about the vampire. I didn’t know what to think. It seemed that he did things, kind or cruel, simply because he could. Was there any intent behind them, any will? What did he really feel?

I stepped out into the muggy midnight air, lamenting that I didn’t have my car and would have to find a way home. Instead, I was met in the parking lot by a dashing man of mystery and his luxury sedan. I stopped in front of him, searching for what to say to him. I needn’t have bothered.

Before I could thank him, he grinned. “I did a great deal to help you reach the old bat in time. I’ve been a good boy.” He took me by the neck and pulled me close until I was pressed against him, staring up at his perfect features. “So where’s my prize?”