Not a Biter

Nimble fingers caressed his flushed cheeks, tracing downwards to parted lips. The exchange of deep and intense gazes shared between them. Reaching up to touch the birdlike shoulders, he gained a shudder in response from her and kept his eyes transfixed onto her milky white ones, no longer the pretty emeralds they were before. Her skin no longer the bright shade full of life and energy but now a blotchy pale color, a stain of red running down the side from where she had been bitten. String dust colored hair fell over sunken cheeks. The dots across her cheek gave the impression of freckles upon her face.

He leaned in, never taking his eyes off of hers and she leaned in as well.

Perhaps he was mad or had a suicidal intent. Maybe he just didn't care.

Whatever the reason, he kissed her.

And surprisingly, she did not bite.