The exchange of blood. He wants me to be his.
As much as the thought repulses me, right now I have no choice in the matter. Either I grin and bear it, drink this detestable mans blood and begrudgingly allow him to take mine, or I force him off me and have my entire plan go up in cinders. Neither seem particularly viable, but as his mouth slips down against my throat, I come to the sullen realisation that I know which one I prefer.
I've got to let him do it, I've got to let him bite me. Even the thought of allowing it is enough to send trembling shivers down my spine.
Well, I think bluntly against the chaos of my mind, it is not exactly like you have a choice now, you set yourself up for this. You reap what you sew. Suck it up, vampire girl.
And so I do exactly that.
