Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandoms:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2025-08-27
Words:
6,674
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
119
Kudos:
360
Bookmarks:
34
Hits:
3,112

once bitten twice shy

Summary:

Kate Sharma hooks up with surreptitious vampire Anthony Bridgerton at a Halloween party. He needs permission to come inside.

Notes:

inspired by this tumblr post. thanks to heartsleeves for the brainstorming, cheerleading, and for workshopping Anthony’s fit at the end.

Work Text:

In what would turn out to be the biggest cliche of her life or perhaps a salient bit of foreshadowing, Kate Sharma met Anthony Bridgerton at a Halloween party when she was dressed as a vampire slayer and he, as himself, though she was not to know that yet.

They had run into each other in the bathroom line. Unfortunately, this was quite literal: he was coming, which was also foreshadowing, and she was going - or at least, rounding the corner at speed. God help the man standing between a girl and her tequila shots. That salt certainly wasn’t going to lick itself.

Funny then, that he turned out to be a man beyond help. A very solid sort of man too, or at least when he was acting as an obstacle between Kate and the rest of her tequila. Her handful of stakes and crosses went clattering over the floor as she stumbled into him. Swearing under her breath, Kate knelt down to pick them up.

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “That was - that was my fault.” He dropped to his knees beside her. But despite his admission of guilt, he made no attempt to touch the crosses or stakes.

Kate scowled. She looked up at him, ready to castigate him for his carelessness, but the retort died in her mouth.

Oh, she thought, momentarily dumbfounded. He was really very attractive. Forget the salt, she’d found something else she wanted to lick. From he was looking at her, it seemed that he wanted to devour her too.

“Kate,” she introduced herself. Watched as he licked his lips. Swallowed hard, like she wanted to swallow —

“Anthony.” He leaned in closer. Inhaled deeply.

There was a frisson when their hands touched, ostensibly in a handshake - which was something weird to do at a party anyway. Kate didn’t believe in love at first sight - and neither did she put much stock in love at all - but she did believe in lust at first fuck. In any case, now that he’d initiated the handshake, she didn’t feel particularly inclined to relinquish him. His hand was so big and cool around hers and the feeling lingered long he’d let go.

“So,” she said, deliberately casual as she stuffed the stakes back into her bag. He watched carefully as she did so. Examining his costume was a convenient way to look him up and down - give him the old once over. Dark brown eyes, full head of hair. Nice prominent nose which would probably come in handy when he was eating her out, which she was hoping he’d want to do later. He wore a white ruffled shirt which stretched tightly over his well-muscled chest and a long black Victorian-looking coat. When he smiled, she could see two sharp canines. He hadn’t dipped them in fake blood which was really quite classy, unoriginal costume aside.

“Please tell me you’re supposed to be Spike or Angel,” she laughed. “You’re too hot to tell me you dressed up as Edward.”

He looked nonplussed for a moment. “What - oh. It’s Halloween isn’t it?”

“Oh god,” she said. “You don’t even have a vampire in mind, do you? I bet you just bought the costume off Amazon. It’s probably just a generic brooding vampire costume.”

“Er.” He scratched his sideburns. Probably stick ons, Kate thought. Somehow it worked. “Yes?”

Tequila made her bold, but Kate was born bold. She leaned in and breathed in his scent. He smelled like wood and spice. She wanted to lick him from tip to root. Looking up at him through lowered lids, she smiled up at him flirtatiously. It was harder than it sounded in books. “It’s kind of working on me.”

It seemed to work on Anthony, because he smiled too. It was a little predatory, when paired with the fake vampire teeth. She could work with that. “Oh?”

“Mmhm.”

Tequila didn’t just make her bold. It turned out it made her quick. Quick was pushing Anthony into the wall behind them. He was instantly responsive, hips jutting into hers reflexively. Quick was pressing her tongue against his lips until his mouth opened willingly for her. His teeth were sharp when she swiped at them with her tongue. Quick was tugging at his hair until he gasped and manhandled her into the bathroom to hoist her up onto the counter.

There was a wild look in his eyes as he pulled her hair away from her neck. It was as though she’d unleashed something deep within him - that his control had all been a facade until now. His teeth were points against her skin. She arched towards him, baring her neck willingly. She could feel him smiling again against her skin; then, he was swiping roughly at her breasts, pulling a keen from her throat as his thumb pressed harshly against her nipple.

“Shhh …” he soothed, canines scraping the tender flesh over her collarbone. “Let me.”

“Yes,” Kate gasped, spreading her legs wider as he shoved aside her underwear and pressed an obscenely thick finger into her. “Please.”

Obligingly, he curled his finger, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit. He pushed his finger further into her, caressing her with sure, toe-curling strokes. His tongue was a rough burr against her skin, mapping the terrain of her chest and neck. It was all too good, too much - and yet not enough. She could feel her blood pounding in her veins, rising to the surface as she writhed against him. More, she thought. Perhaps she had said it aloud too. She would die if he stopped. She would —

”Oy,” came a loud shout from outside the door. “You guys done in there? Some of us need to piss, you know.”

Startled, Kate pulled back. The bathroom lights suddenly seemed very bright and she blinked, dazed. There was no embarrassment on Anthony’s face. Perhaps he’d been born bold too. He took a little longer to withdraw from her and his movements were deliberate when he finally did. When he pulled his fingers out from under her skirt, they were glistening. There was no sheepishness in his movements. Instead, he locked eyes with her, pupils dilated, as he took his fingers in his mouth, closing his lips around them to suck.

“Oh,” Kate mumbled. The air in the room rippled and contracted around them. She fought the urge to beg for his fingers again.

His lips were very red. When he pulled those fingers out from his mouth again, all she could see were his teeth. There was a drop of blood welling up on his index finger. It almost looked like he had bitten himself in an effort to taste her. But that would be unhinged … wouldn’t it?

The person on the other side of the door knocked again. “I’m going to shit myself!”

It broke the spell. “Come on,” Kate said, taking Anthony’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she barely recognised her reflection. The girl in the mirror looked thoroughly ravished. She wanted more.

 

 

 

Welcome! the mat at the doorstep said as they emerged through the front door. The street was still teeming with people, but the trick-or-treaters had thinned out and given way to an older, drunker crowd. Anthony had been silent and willing as Kate had led him out of the party, but now that they were out on the lawn, he wrapped his arms around her, like he couldn’t keep away. His nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck. His breath came out in cool huffs against her skin.

Kate twisted in his arms to face him. One hand snaked into his pants to find his wallet. Her hand brushed against what felt like a very hard, thick cock. He groaned. Curiously, she thumbed at him again, just to see if he would make the same sound. He did. It was very satisfying.

Regretfully conscious of the fact they were in public, she pulled her hand out of his pocket, his wallet in her clutches. She liked a one-night stand as much as the next girl, but safety came first, always.

Anthony watched her hungrily, as she rifled through it, but made no protest. It looked like he had come prepared - there were a couple of foil packets folded in with his loose change. She left those in there - he might need them later, if she was lucky. She flipped through his credit cards disinterestedly.

One card caught her interest. “These sun tanning places are really bad for you,” she informed him, waving the loyalty card at him. “They give you skin cancer. You’d be better off investing in a good fake tan.”

She couldn’t quite imagine him pale, though.

“I don’t really get out in the sun,” he said, a little strangled from her ministrations. “And I don’t like people touching me. I mean, strangers. Not like you. I like this - you. I like you touching me.”

Kate felt strangely proud. She’d unpack that with her therapist later. Scrabbling deeper in his wallet, she fished out his driver’s license. She peered at it. “Oh god,” she said. “Are you wearing the same costume in this picture? Is this not just a costume for you? Are you still in your Ben Gibbard emo phase? You know even he’s moved on from that now.”

“Give Up is a really good album,” he muttered.

“Sure,” Kate agreed easily. “I’d expected you to pick Transatlanticism though. Something a bit more sad boy autumn.” She held up his driver's license and snapped a quick picture. Not looking at it, she sent it to Sophie, turning her location sharing on. Going home with this guy, she texted. He’s a bit weird but like in a hot way. Pls mount a rescue if you don’t hear from me in the morning.

She paused.

Just like I’m hoping to mount him.

Her phone buzzed in return as Sophie thumbs-downed her last text. The three dots appeared below her message, but Kate slipped her phone carelessly into her pocket.

“Your place or mine?”

 

 

 

He picked his place.

“Can you leave your bag at the door?” he asked, as they tumbled in. “I’m allergic to wood.”

This was a little surprising, considering how much he was packing.

Kate dropped her bag on the floor obligingly and proceeded to push him up against a wall. His gasp of surprise was satisfying, but the way his gaze darkened as he flipped them around and manoeuvred her into the bedroom was even more so.

It was dark in his room, black-out curtains adorning the windows. Kate was still blinking, waiting for her eyes to adjust when he pushed her towards the bed.

“Dark in here,” she managed as she fell against the plush black pillows.

“I do a lot of shift work,” he said, shadow looming over her. Pulling back the curtains, he allowed the light from the street lamps to stream in like the moon. The honking from the cars below and the distant city lights seemed like stars from a very distant universe.

Then, he was upon her.

He was surprisingly enthusiastic for a random guy she’d picked up from a Halloween party. Skillful too, if that was the right word for it. Most guys her age hadn’t learned the basics of kissing, let alone eating a girl out. Slobbering, Kate often wanted to tell them, did not a good lover make.

But Anthony kissed like he knew what he was doing. Like he’d been practising his whole life - centuries, even - for this moment. Like he meant it. His mouth on hers was soft, yet insistent. His tongue swirled around her skin, her flesh, her bones, with purpose. The purpose, it turned out, was to draw her desire to the surface. To set her blood on fire. She was an inferno, reduced to the places where he touched her. Helpless to stifle the cries of pleasure he drew from her throat. Under his hands, his fingers, she felt reduced to atoms, to stardust.

Kate was limp by the time he sat back in satisfaction. In the darkness, his eyes glinted. He was still fully dressed in his stupid vampire costume, but his mouth was wet with her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, like blood.

“You’re really good at that,” she managed.

“Thanks.” His smile was all smug satisfaction, as he came up to kiss her on her lips, then her throat. Kate could feel her pulse fluttering in her neck. Anthony must have seen it too, because he licked at it lightly, delicately, where it trembled between her muscles. It did things to her.

“Please,” Kate begged, turning her head so that her pulse was more exposed to him.

Anthony was obliging. He bit down, hard.

She cried out. Though she’d asked for it, the shock of his teeth against her flesh - had he drawn blood? - aroused her and stirred her limbs into action. It was Anthony’s turn then to gasp as she flipped them, so Kate was straddling him. Pinning his hands beneath her knees, she smiled sweetly. “My turn,” she purred.

Shaking off his surprise, he grinned against her lips. Lifted his hips up so she could shove his pants down to free his cock, her hand wrapping around his shaft until he was notched perfectly against her. He ground up against her as she rubbed herself on his length filthily, watching her hungrily as the little ohs of satisfaction escaped her lips. He looked like he wanted to swallow every single one.

Her neck was wet. She swiped at it with her hand. In the darkness she couldn’t tell if it was just saliva or blood, but she offered her hand to him anyway. “You bit me,” she wondered. “Usually I’d say buy me dinner first. But for you I’ll make an exception.”

Something in Anthony’s gaze seemed to darken further. He leaned forward, though her hand on his throat limited his movements, and took her fingers into his mouth. His tongue surged around her, sending an electric shock of awareness up her spine.

His cock was a hard ridge against the crevice between her thighs. She could feel herself leaking onto him as she rolled her hips back against him. She was using him, really, and drawing that satisfying friction from his body, again and again. Every so often, his head would catch against her, but she’d pull back before he could dip further in, prolonging their mutual torment. His eyes were hot on her breasts as they bounced with her movements. She could feel his hands clawing at her thighs, muscles were growing tenser and tenser beneath her. He felt like a caged animal, ready to strike.

Finally, she could bear it no longer. From the hiss that escaped him as she sank down on him, around him, he felt similarly. He was thick, heavy, splitting her open, the stretch just to the left off too much. But he could not wait. Neither could she. His fists were bruising on her hips as he lifted and slammed her down over him, bone against bone. Her nails raked over his chest, impeded only by his shirt. He was still almost fully dressed. That was a shame.

Next time, she thought as she leaned over to capture his lips. Kate wasn’t usually one for repeat performances, or next times. Pump and dump, she used to joke. No redos. But his lips were really very soft, she noted hazily as he drove into her. They were made to be kissed. They were made to be kissed again and again and again.

“Kate - can I - ”

Kate moaned in answer, a long, drawn out sound impaled on a vigorous thrust. The feeling of him was too good; the sensations he was wringing from her threatening to overwhelm her completely. She was coming before she knew it, vision blurring as she splintered around him deliciously, walls clenching rhythmically his length.

Any other hook up would take that as permission to finish. But Anthony didn’t seem to flag.

“I’m just - ah! - going to need you to say it - ”

Boneless. She felt boneless. And yet. Seized by a desire she could not explain, Kate leaned forward, collapsing a little onto his ridiculously firm chest. His stupid ruffled shirt dragged against her nipples and she arched into the sensation a little. He’d bitten her; it was only fair that she marked him too. His neck. That seemed as good a place as any other.

Already, evening stubble had turned his skin rough, but somehow he still felt cool when she brushed her tongue over him. Her skin felt overheated; her body a furnace. She couldn’t feel his pulse, but she sank her teeth in anyway, just between the juncture where his muscles sinewed and corded.

He groaned, bucking deeper into her. He had lost all finesse now, his rhythm coming apart as he thrust wildly. He seemed on the precipice, had seemed so for some time now. His self-control was truly remarkable. “Kate! Oh god, Kate, please - ”

The taste of him was still in her mouth - earthy, like he was a part of her. His fingers were on her again, as if seeking permission in her pleasure. She was all too willing to give it. He brushed against a spot, just so, and then she was coming again, reduced to waves of pleasure crashing onto a wild and distant shore.

But still he did not come.

He wanted to, she could tell. There was agony in his voice when he begged her again. “Kate,” he gasped. “Tell me I can come. Tell me I can come inside.”

She was too far gone to question it. “Anthony,” she moaned. “Anthony, please.”

“Please what?” he asked desperately. His nails were almost drawing blood and this seemed to make him more frenzied than ever.

“Do it,” she cried. There was a sweet, strange intensity to the moment that she did not understand. She could still taste him on her tongue, her lips, could still feel him pressing into all the nameless parts of her. She’d never be rid of him, she thought wildly, not entirely knowing where the thought had come from. Never wanted to try. “Come, Anthony. Do it.”

Anguished now - “Come where?”

“Come inside!”

He groaned, stiffening impossibly inside of her. With one last vicious thrust, he drove into her, slamming her down desperately as he shuddered to completion deep within.

 

 

 

“So,” Kate said later when she could breathe again. “Is this a kind of kink thing? Do you like being … I don’t know, a sub?”

He didn’t quite meet her gaze, eyes slipping to the mark he had undoubtedly left on her neck. “Is that okay?”

The question sounded vulnerable in the moon-tinged night. This was usually the point when Kate rolled off the bed to collect her clothes and flee.

She considered it. “Is it every time? You need me to give you permission to come every time?”

His hand was very pale as he slid it over her belly and up over the curve of her tits. “I know it’s weird,” he said. “But yes. I can’t come inside unless you tell me I can.”

Already, she could feel herself clenching as he plucked idly at her nipple, rolling it tortuously between his cold fingers until it stiffened and swelled. Her cunt throbbed. He was just some guy who she’d picked up at a party. What did she care about his kinks? It would be safer to disentangle herself now and walk into the night like the strangers they were.

“Is that okay?” he asked again. He kissed her neck softly, at the spot he had marked her.

Kate felt herself lean into his kiss. She knew what her answer would be before she’d spoken it. “I guess I can work with that.”

 

 

 

“You slut.” Sophie’s voice was a little tinny through Kate’s car speakers. “We were supposed to match costumes at the party! Do you know how pathetic it looks to be evil Willow without Buffy?”

“I’m not blond enough to be Buffy,” Kate argued. It was true. She’d left the wig on the floor outside the bathroom when she had pushed Anthony up against the wall. Now, she was still in her vampire slayer costume, sans said wig. Was it still a walk of shame if it was two days later?

“Not without your wig you weren’t,” Sophie scoffed. “Anyway, I hope he was worth abandoning your best friend. Tell me he was hot at least.”

“What do you mean? I sent you a photo.”

“You didn’t! You only sent a blurry driver’s license. Wouldn’t hold up in a missing person’s report.”

“Huh,” Kate said absently. Her body felt stretched and satisfied. A long bath would do her good. “Must have been shitty night mode. Sorry.”

“Whatever,” Sophie replied, softer now. “Are you going to see him again?” She was familiar with Kate’s ‘no repeats’ rule.

Kate hummed non-committally. “Maybe.”

That, in itself, was a concession.

 

 

 

Anthony, it seemed, had no such compunction. Kate had barely pulled into her carpark when her phone buzzed with a text from him.

I had a lovely time this weekend, it read, oddly formal. I would like to see you again, if you are willing.

Willing didn’t even begin to describe it. Later, Kate would be embarrassed by the speed at which she texted back.

Love to, she wrote, and left it at that.

Can I take you to dinner? His reply came just as fast. In exchange for biting you?

That seems like a fair exchange.

She stared at her phone. This was the point at which guys, unnerved by her nonchalance, usually ghosted. She’d not asked a single question in return, had not offered convenient times, had not even shown more than the requisite level of enthusiasm. All her enthusiasm had been spent on his cock. The aftermath was usually much more banal.

Her phone was silent. Kate fought the disappointment that threatened to rise in her throat. Throwing it into her bag where it clanked a little as it hit the stakes, she turned her car engine off.

Just as Kate was about to open the door, her phone buzzed again. Abandoning all pretense, she dove into her bag and pulled it out, a stake in her other hand. Raising the stakes, if you will, which she did very much.

Tuesday night? Beccofino’s? They do a great steak.

Sure! Kate texted back and got out of the car before she could regret her use of the exclamation point.

 

 

 

Tuesday came and went, as did Kate, multiple times, loudly. Anthony seemed equally satisfied, if the trail of bites he’d left over her neck, chest, and breasts were anything to go by. Against her normal rules, she found herself agreeing to a second date, which quickly became a third date, which quickly became seeing him regularly, which quickly became spending multiple nights at his.

If he still begged her to let him come, if he seemed strangely obsessed with biting her neck, if he still insisted on wearing the weird Victorian coat even though it was pretty much verging on spring, well –. She could ignore all of that, given how good the sex was. How generous he was with her orgasms. How obsessed he seemed with her, without being entirely creepy about it.

They didn’t put a label on it - Kate hated labels - but she’d quietly stopped fucking anyone else. Her apps had been muted for weeks now. Judging by how often she was at his, she doubted that he was fucking anyone else either. Unless he saw them during the day, when he was often too busy to see her. Unless he had a long-distance girlfriend who spent time with his friends and family who she was still yet to meet. Unless, unless, unless …

It was often on the tip of her tongue to ask, but Anthony seemed perfectly content with the situation as it was. And Kate never wanted to be the one asking the difficult questions. Asking the questions made you needy. And Kate never wanted to be needy.

Although … sometimes, when Anthony was smiling at her like that, or when he’d made sure she’d come three times at least before he begged for permission to do the same, or when he listened to her rant about her terrible bosses and her co-dependent family … sometimes she was almost tempted to ask. But the mood would change or he’d start kissing her and it was too easy to turn to putty in his hands instead.

Another time, she’d tell herself, knowing full well that she’d never ask.

It was just that a time never really came up.

Or that’s what she told herself anyway.

 

 

 

It was month five, at least, of this not-quite relationship limbo, when Kate noticed a few things about her not-quite boyfriend.

One, she had never seen him in the daylight.

Two, it really took him a very long time to come.

And three - perhaps the most egregious of all - he wouldn’t eat her cooking. True, he had never been outright rude about it, but he’d pick at her curries and garlic naans, move it around the plate a little, and eat most of the rice instead. Then, at the end of the meal, he’d insist on them brushing their teeth before he would kiss her again.

All of these things could be explained away, maybe, but still, she found herself wondering, which she hated to do. It was better to be the one that left first. She’d never wanted to be the one who wanted more or loved hard. But he made her want. She couldn’t forgive him for that.

They were sprawled over his couch, after he’d reduced her to tears from the force of her orgasm. There had been something determined in the way he’d thrust into her - as though he’d been trying to get her to admit something in the throes of passion that she’d suppressed only too well. He’d muffled some words - a confession, Kate didn’t dare hope - into the crook of her neck. The bruise he was only too fond of leaving there ached a little, but it was a pleasant sort of soreness.

Once again, he’d required her permission to come. The thought niggled.

Kate sat up. “Is it a problem with me?” she asked abruptly and regretted it instantly. The sentence sounded plaintive and pathetic to her overly-critical ears.

Anthony sat up too. They were both naked, but Kate couldn’t help but notice that where she was flushed and spent, Anthony had barely even broken a sweat. Nonchalance was a great colour on her, but a terrible one on him. “What?”

She should be detached, dispassionate, she knew, but she couldn’t stop the insecurity bubbling to the surface. This - this was everything she tried not to be. “It’s just that - we’ve been fucking for months now, but you only ever do booty calls after dark, which is kind of weird because it feels like we’re dating but you’ve never … we’ve never gone out during the day. We’ve never done Sunday brunch like a couple. Not that we’re a couple, but I do like brunch.”

“I’m a late riser!”

It was too late to stop her now. The words just kept flowing out like a runaway train. “I know you said that asking for permission is your kink but you last forever - is it because you’re not attracted to me?”

“Kate, we fuck at least three times a night - I think you can rest assured I am attracted to you –” He gestured to his cock, which was already half erect.

“You don’t like my cooking!”

“It’s just that you use a lot of garlic and it gives me stomach cramps!”

“Do you just want to break up? You can just say so. I’ll get over it.” It slipped out then, raw and vulnerable. Kate hated it, hated the way it made her feel - small and insecure and at his mercy.

If Anthony pitied her, he didn’t show it. He looked pained. “What? Kate, no! I definitely don’t want to break up.”

“Are you sure?” Pathetic again.

“I’m so sure. I like you. I really like you.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love. She didn’t expect one.

She’d take it anyway.

Pathetic.

 

 

 

It all came to a head, as Anthony was fond of giving, when Kate was doomscrolling on her phone.

“I can’t believe you’ve been dating Anthony for six months and I still haven’t met him,” Sophie was complaining. “You’ve been dating this guy for like six months and I still haven’t met him,” Sophie groused. They were sitting in the last vestiges of sun as it slouched towards the horizon, wine glasses clutched desperately in hand. “Is he hot at least? You still haven’t confirmed that.”

“He’s hot,” Kate replied. Out of instinct, she added, “We’re not dating. We’re just fucking.” She could hardly demand to introduce her fuckbuddy to her best friend. That would be too much like commitment. Expectations.

“With alarming regularity,” Sophie muttered. “Any more regular and you’d be an old married couple.”

“I haven’t met any of his friends either.”

“Yeah, but his friends don’t matter as much as I do. I have veto power.”

Kate laughed. “I’ll show you a photo at least. That way you can decide if he’s hot enough to bang.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” Sophie complained, but peered over Kate’s shoulder eagerly anyway.

Kate scrolled through her photos. Surely they’d taken a photo or two - he was in the background when she’d sent a picture of the cake she’d made at his. He’d been sprawled over the bed when she’d sent Sophie a mirror selfie of the dress they’d worn to dinner. He’d worn his usual black coat, though she’d finally convinced him to ditch the ruffled shirt in favour of a more casual button down. She wasn’t a hundred percent certain he owned more than one shirt, though he certainly always smelled delightful.

“Huh,” she said aloud.

“What?”

”He’s … not there.”

He wasn’t. The bed in her mirror selfie was in full view, but Anthony was absent. The cake photo looked delicious (it was), but the saucepan Anthony had been holding hovered in midair. Selfie after selfie was devoid of her erstwhile fuckbuddy. Even a couple of dedicated photos that she had taken of him at dinner, when he hadn’t been looking, were empty of her evenly-tanned, white ruffle shirt-wearing, neck-biting lover who texted her in full sentences and without a trace of an acronym.

“Huh,” Kate said again. “That’s odd.”

 

 

 

“Are you a vampire?”

”What a strange thing to ask,” Anthony said slowly. His handsome features had arrested in an expression that suggested he had studied innocence at the lap of babes.

“That’s not a no.”

His hair looked very dark in the pale moonlight. She had convinced him to stop visiting the tanning salon. The cancer risk was too high. Ha. The white collar of his favourite - maybe only - shirt was upturned. His teeth - well, she hadn’t noticed his teeth since that first night, but that was surely retractable with all the advances in evolution by now.

“Does that scare you?”

”So that’s a yes, then.” Kate heard her voice break a little. She hated it. “What was I to you - a snack?”

“No - god, no. I mean, yes, I do have to feed, and yes, I did taste a little, but you always seemed to enjoy it and you did ask. And you bit me back. I thought - I thought - ”

He reached for her, but she pulled away, crossing her arms. His touch would soothe her, she knew, and she wanted to hold on to her hurt a little longer. His arms dropped uselessly by his side.

There were so many things she wanted to say, but what came out was: “Why haven’t you drunk from me yet? Am I … not to your taste?”

”What?” He tugged at his sideburns. Not, it turned out, stick-ons. “God no, Kate. I want to. I want to so badly. It’s only that …” He looked away, embarrassed. “I just liked you so much. I didn’t want to change you.”

“Oh.” It was almost enough, but not quite. She wouldn’t let it be enough. Leave first, she thought. Before you get left. “You didn’t have to fuck me,” she said. “You could have just … fed from me and been done with it.”

“Fucking helps,” he mumbled. “Gets the blood flowing and all.” He raised his chin. “Plus, I wanted to. I wanted to so much.”

”Wanted to fuck me or to feed from me?”

His answer came readily, like he had been thinking about it for a while. “Both.”

He looked so woebegone that it was almost difficult to remember that he’d used her. That she was just a means to an end. That while she was busy falling in love with him, she’d just been an amuse-bouche to him. She clung on to her anger.

”Convenient.”

She didn’t want to think of all the times he’d made her dinner when she’d been curled up on the couch, exhausted after a long day. She didn’t want to think of his arms around her, reaching for her as she extricated herself from his bed. She didn’t want to think of the reverence on his face, as she bounced on his cock, of the desperation in his voice as he begged to come inside … wait —

“Is that why you always needed permission to come inside?”

“It’s one of the rules.”

“Who says?”

”Bram Stoker.”

“Oh.”

There wasn’t really anything else she could say to that. Bram Stoker, it seemed, was a non-sequitur. Silence fell. The distance between them felt insurmountable.

Anthony was the first to break it. ”Kate,” he said. He sounded like he was pleading now. “Kate, this doesn’t have to change anything.”

“What do you mean?” Kate said wildly. “You used me. You made me fall - was I ever anything more than a tasty convenience to you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

But she couldn’t listen, couldn’t let him offer her platitudes that her foolish heart would be more than willing to accept. What were her rules again? No repeat performances. No second chances. All to prevent her heart from getting too involved. All to prevent her from getting hurt like this.

“Was anything even true? Was everything you told me a lie?”

“Kate,” he beseeched. “It was all true. I sleep mostly during the day - that’s kind of shift work, right? I love your cooking but even though garlic doesn’t really ward vampires off, it does give us cramps. I use tanning beds because I can’t go in the sun without burning. And I really really like you.”

“Stop,” Kate interrupted, holding her hand out as if to stem the tide of words Anthony was trying to offer. “Stop. I’ve heard enough. I’m going.”

“Please.” He reached out to grab her hand. There was that feeling again - the lingering of his cool skin against hers. That electric shock in her chest at the contact - and the seeping realisation that he could so easily hurt her.

She shook herself free. “No,” she said harshly, as though the word could protect her. “No.”

She was almost running to the door. If she stayed a moment longer he might convince her to stay, and then where would she be? What would that make her?

Pathetic.

At the door, she paused. She couldn’t look back. “You didn’t have to fuck me,” she said softly, though what she really meant was, you didn’t have to make me fall in love with you.

This would have been a perfect time for him to say I love you too, but what Anthony said instead was, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough,” Kate said. It wasn’t. “I deserve more. I deserve … brunch, at the very least.”

It turned out she was the stupid, needy one, after all.

She wanted more.

 

 

 

“You know what’s stupid,” she said to Sophie. Same scene again - wine bar, closer to sunset this time. Trying to hold her tears back. Clinging onto her self-respect for dear life. “If I stayed a moment longer I might have believed him. Might have believed that maybe I was more than a convenient blood source. That he actually liked me.”

Sophie was watching her beadily, though not without a trace of sympathy. “Are you sure he didn’t?”

“He lied to me, Soph.”

“It’s kind of a hard thing to bring up though. When was he supposed to do it? Like, ‘pass the pepper honey and also I’m a vampire’ - that doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?”

Kate was in no mood to listen to reason. “Whatever,” she said. “This just goes to show that I was right the first time. The only man in my life that I need is Newton.”

“Aim low, I suppose, and yes, my emphasis is on low. Like short.”

Kate kicked her under the table but even the force behind her kick was lacklustre.

Undeterred, Sophie reached out to take her hand. “Kate. have you ever considered that maybe it’s possible that he actually did like you? Love you even? You think you’re difficult to love but you know it’s not true, right?”

Kate scoffed, but she let Sophie hold her hand still. It was warm, not like Anthony’s bloodless grasp.

“Maybe he really loved you if he didn’t turn you into a vampire.”

She was trying to sound profound but Kate burst into loud, forced guffaws. “Do you hear yourself Soph? He didn’t kill me therefore he loves me? That’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. He’s not even alive.”

Sophie took a sip of wine, looking disappointed. “He seemed plenty alive when you were telling me about your marathon sexcapades.”

“Yeah, look - on that. I don’t even know how that works. Do vampires even have blood? Without blood how do they even get erections?”

They looked at each other. In the distance, a siren wailed. There was a moment, Kate thought, where she could laugh or cry. She chose to laugh. A couple of tears escaped anyway.

When they were both gasping for breath and clutching their bellies, she managed to say. “Ah well. You live and you learn, I guess. Or, in his case, you just learn.”

 

 

 

Learning was for future Kate, though. Wallowing was for present Kate. It had taken her a week to acknowledge that yes, she had loved Anthony, despite herself, and yes, the break-up really did suck. She hadn’t had to nurse heartbreak for so long that she’d almost forgotten how godawful it was. And how long it took to pass.

It probably didn’t help that she was nursing her heartbreak by watching a marathon of Dracula, Nosferatu, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and finishing it off with Twilight. When Edward started to sparkle, she found herself sniffing. Everything, it seemed, reminded her of him.

The knock on her apartment door jolted her out of her self-pity. Sophie, no doubt, come to check on her.

“Coming!” she called.

But when she opened the door to let the broad daylight in, it was not Sophie that she found on the other side of the threshold. It was Anthony.

Well. She thought it was Anthony. It was a little hard to tell for certain, given he was wearing a balaclava, a visor, and sunglasses over the top. Peeking out from the sleeves of his customary black coat, his arms were concealed in lacy women’s driving gloves.

Kate stared. Was that a trail of steam rising from his ears? ”Anthony?” she asked, unsure. “What are you doing here? You’re going to burn.”

His voice came out a little muffled through the layers. “Brunch? It’s Sunday.” He lifted up his bag. “I brought buscopan in case you wanted garlic bread.”