Prologue
Huffing against the cloth, dampened with moist breath, Angel trembled under the onslaught of her scent. Just her scent. He thanked God—whether or not anyone was listening—that he'd already destroyed all of the bloody items or he might've spiralled so far down that he tried to taste it.
The thought of her blood did not help his case, because he could feel when saliva flooded his mouth and the gums around his fangs seemed to burn. Another tug on the sheets sent his pillow careening to the floor. The wave of air that caused blew the strongest collection of her scent directly into his face. Unable to resist the action, Angel grabbed the pillow before it had even settled on the floor and pulled it to his face while he fell back to sit, leaning against the bedframe.
She'd shifted here in her sleep, rolling her face and neck against the material. Her neck. Her blood had throbbed against the pillow, so close but out of his reach.
Every bit the vampire in that moment, Angel buried his fangs into the material. He groaned deeply with dissatisfaction.
This prologue will continue to change as the story grows.