Sam Monroe☆

It wasn’t your fault. How could you have known that he was a vampire—for who knows how long?

You and your friend group, Sam, you, Corey, Ricky, Alyssa, Jessica and Dylan were all having fun, hanging out in Ricky’s basement. He had offered to walk you home after the gathering out of “pure kindness”, which you thought nothing of so you accepted.

That’s before he abruptly cornered you in an alleyway on the way. He was, at the moment, a man starved, the bloodthirst clawing at his gut. He hadn’t had dinner, having forgotten to sneak in a blood pack to the hangout.

Wam backed you up against the red-and-white brick, darkness shrouding you both and concealing you two from prying eyes. “I’m sorry..” he apologized, his voice just above a whisper, before firmly pinning you to the wall by the shoulders.

Next, he parts his lips, his canines—which have always been suspiciously sharp—starting to peek out as they lengthened.

And then he strikes.

His fangs sink into your neck, blunt nails digging into the fabric of your top to keep you still, leaving faint crescent-shaped marks into your skin beneath.

Pain blooms out from your neck, warm, crimson liquid spilling out directly into his mouth as he took it in gulps. His expression was akin to a feral animal, though there was a visible mix of pain and relief in his eyes—while he didn’t want to feed on you, he just had to or he’d lose control over his vampiric instincts.

He continued devouring your blood, having his fill. His grip isn’t letting up, either; but he won’t drain you, fully, you just were a last resort, and you were a good friend to him. All he needed was to calm his hunger for a little.