I hated Dean from the first moment I laid sight on him. He would slouch around in his black shroud, hair dripping like the darkest ink over his malevolent eyes. He’d never speak; just growl cruelly at those unfortunate enough to get in his way. He would have them all scurrying like frightened ants.
      But not me.
      His blood-red eyes would shoot straight into my soul yet I wouldn’t move a muscle - just stare straight back. His jaw would twitch, revealing shockingly pointed teeth; and that low growl would echo down the corridor towards me, born deep in his black throat.
      When no one else was around, he’d take a spine-tingling step forward, unforgiving boot treading silently on the polished floor. Figure sharp yet hunched he’d creep closer; and still I would hold his evil gaze, gripping those cruel eyes with my own innocence.

      Then he’d stop dead a metre or so away. I’d see his clenched fists twitching under their long sleeves. The fire would burn with new strength in his pale face, the light from his eyes like a bloody sword tearing into my very being.
      And then, with a chilling, inaudible flurry of black, he’d pounce. His nails would dig into my flesh like snakebites; his poison coursing through me with every panicked heartbeat. His black ink would slowly cloak me, seep into my skin and begin to flow through my veins as his fangs sank deep into my full bottom lip. Blood would spill down my face as he attacked, but I would put up no struggle – instead forcing him even closer, fighting for breath as my whole body became numb in his vice-like grip.

      Kissing a vampire isn’t easy. But who said love had to be perfect?