The darkness was too bright for me. I couldn’t get to sleep with the pounding in my head. The stabbing behind my eyes was the worst. Keeping them closed hurt just as much as keeping them open. Dr. Chase tried to alleviate my pain by force-feeding me painkiller after painkiller. They did nothing to quash the feeling something was pushing its way from out of my skull. I spent most of my time with my head under the covers of her guest bed, my eyes screwed shut and hands clasped over my ears. I could barely eat anything, my stomach threatening to throw everything back up.

It was rather late when I made my way out of the cocoon. I tried my best to be quiet as I made my way to Dr. Chase’s hallway bathroom. The little food I forced down with my antibiotics was coming right back up. I locked the door and expelled everything while my head split open. I heaved into the toilet bowl, waiting for more to come. I forced myself back to my feet using the counter as a support. I looked out at the blurry world while I washed my hands and brushed the taste of vomit out of my mouth. I blinked the tears out of my eyes, hand paused to open the medicine cabinet to get more painkillers. There was something wrong with my hair. A blip of red through all the blue. I touched it cautiously, pulling back at the sharp tip. I stared at them in the mirror before my eyes caught something else. A ring of red was starting to seep out from my pupil, coating my black irises in blood.

I forced more painkillers down my throat, then pulled up the hood on my hoodie. Dr. Chase couldn’t see me this way. I wasn’t even sure what it was that was happening to me. I chewed on my bottom lip, glancing at the little bit of bandage on my neck that peeked out from my hoodie. Malachai was the only person I knew who could even potentially help me with this. Vampires didn’t grow horns, but he might know something about what was happening to me. I snuck back to the guest room after having made up my mind. I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my phone and put another jacket on.

The wind was biting when I finally made it outside. I wasn’t dressed for the weather, but that wasn’t my main concern. I walked as quickly as I could to Malachai’s apartment, focusing on putting one foot in front of another. That was the only way I was certain I’d stay on my feet. I climbed the stairs to his floor one at a time, gripping the railing until my knuckles turned white. I stood outside his door, telling myself I could go right now and pretend I didn’t think to run to him as my first option. I knocked on the door instead, pulling my hood up further over my head. I held my middle as I waited, knocking once more before I decided I’d leave.

Malachai opened the door, pushed his glasses up his nose. “Can…can you help me?” I asked, trying not to cry from the pain in my head.

“Yeah, um…” He widened the gap in the door, “Come in. Do you want something to drink? Water? Coffee? Hot chocolate?” I meekly accepted his offer of hot chocolate and sat at his kitchen table, covering my ears once more. “Are you alright?” He placed a mug with whipped cream and peppermint bits on the table in front of me, followed by a plate with what looked like a sweetened cheese filled crepe. He sat across from me, hands folded on the table.

I removed my hands from my ears. “Are you…are you really a vampire?”

He cleared his throat, a little taken aback. “I…am,” he said. “And I’m sorry about what I did to you.” He looked at his hands. “I normally…don’t, um, eat without the other person’s consent.” His nose twitched and he pushed his glasses back up. “August, you’re bleeding.”

I brought a hand to my head, feeling my way to the points. I removed my hand when my fingers encountered something sticky. Malachai’s hands trembled for a moment, eyes fixed stubbornly on the table. “Malachai, I…I didn’t…I don’t think I…disliked it when you fed…from me but…” I pulled my hood down, angled my head so he could see the mess in my hair. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

He took a sharp breath, I balled the sleeve of my hoodie in my hands. His fingers danced around my hair, I brought my head up when he removed them. He was licking his fingers, face flushed, and the warm smell of honeysuckle filled the air. “I think they’re horns.” He bit down on his fingers, the color of his cheeks returning to normal. “I can try to find something.” I thanked him, gave him my phone number, and pushed my chair back to leave. “August, if you really didn’t dislike it when I…um, what I mean to say is…can I…drink from you again?” I felt my face warm at his question. Before I could get my mind around his words, I felt myself nod.

All my worries and pain went away the more I smelled his scent. Nothing mattered outside of him anymore. Malachai pushed his glasses to his forehead, telling me he wanted me to be comfortable. He always wanted it to be a positive experience for the humans he ate from. He told me I might feel euphoric, aroused, or relaxed, but whatever it was I felt, I was not to fight against it. His hands gently rubbed at the small of my back, his attempt to calm my nerves. I wasn’t nervous at the prospect of him sucking my blood, more so at me having been set in his lap. As much as I wanted to ignore whatever innate attraction I had to him, the feeling of his hands on me, of his breath against my neck, made it all the harder to pretend. He licked my skin, pulling me against him the moment he sunk his fangs into me. He pressed his tongue flat against my skin, the warmth I’d felt the last time came back when he started to suck.

His teeth felt too shallow, and against my better judgement, I pushed his head down, forcing his fangs deeper in. I could feel my pulse between his lips, a dull pain beating through my entire body, being chased away by a feeling of lust. I wanted his hands to move lower, for him to bite other places than my neck. He pushed me onto my back, my head only inches from the arm of his couch. His hands were around my wrists, pushing them awkwardly over my head. I wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting to hold him and continue to tell myself this was all real. The way I was feeling was real and because of him, even if that tiny nagging thought kept coming back that he was Dr. Chase’s patient and to be part of my practical studies.

Those thoughts all faded as he removed his teeth, lapping at whatever blood dribbled out from the punctures. Eyes glazed, he licked his lips before letting go of my wrist; Malachai forced my mouth open. The taste of iron filled my mouth, and I fought the urge to swallow. I let my own blood trickle from my mouth, him catching each drop with his tongue, placing it back in my mouth with a considerable amount of his spit. I kept my mouth closed, almost spitting the blood down my chin when he moved my head. His hand slid up my wrist, lacing his fingers with mine, then took to caressing the area around my horns. It stung every time his tongue hit open skin. As if to make up for the pain, he pushed his hips into mine. I almost swallowed the blood in surprise; he was just as excited as I was.

“August,” his voice was raspy, directly against my ear, “did you know your blood tastes like sugar cane? I could get…addicted.” I swallowed at the sound of his voice, forgetting about the blood in my mouth. His fingers made their way to my mouth, shoving them inside, trying to grab at something that wasn’t there. Dissatisfied, he slid his hand to my stomach. The fog started to dissipate from his eyes. “Leave,” he said, suddenly sitting up, hands balled into fists, “please. Before I do something I might regret.”  I sat up, the pain returning now that his tongue wasn’t brushing against my skin. I reached out to tap his shoulder but stopped when I noticed how rigid his body was. I bit my bottom lip, feeling beads of blood swell at the puncture wounds. His nose twitched, his body further seized up. “August, go, please. I’ll…I’ll call you if-if I find something about the horns.”

I thought of convincing him to let me stay, but the longer I stayed, the more he seemed he couldn’t relax. Eventually, he started biting down on his fingers. Reluctantly, I left him, wishing I knew what I could do to help him. I pulled my hood over my head and covered my ears as I made my way back to Dr. Chase’s apartment. I wanted to run back, the cold wind chilling to the bone, trying to freeze all the blood soaked to my hair and dripping down my neck. I barely noticed the city starting to wake up as I crossed streets, headlights and car engines too much for my head. Selfishly, I wanted Malachai’s mouth on my neck again, to lick up my blood like an excited puppy. He could have all my addiction-inducing blood, in exchange, I wanted all his pain-numbing saliva.

I was drunk on the feeling of his fangs sinking in my skin, of the way it made my body heat up. I wish he hadn’t stopped, hadn’t moved his hand away from my stomach. I wanted to know what it was he was he wanted to do and knew he’d regret. I wanted him to at least ask me, to at least let me decline first, to let me offer up something else. I started walking faster, telling myself I could let my fantasies run wild once I locked myself in the bathroom. I didn’t have the energy to feel guilty about masturbating in Dr. Chase’s place.

Quietly, I opened the front door, slipping inside. I locked the door, making it seem as if I had never left in the first place. I slid my feet across the hallway floor, hoping it was much quieter than normally walking. I stumbled into the guest room, slipping my shoes off and throwing my jacket on the bed. I staggered to the hallway bathroom, locking the door, and sliding down the door as I felt myself grow hard. I thought about his hand on my stomach, about how his palm would’ve felt on my bare skin. I wanted it to go lower, to sneak into the waistband of my underwear. I…wanted him to fuck me while he fed from me. I had it in my head that feeling would be ecstasy. I bit down on my cheeks to keep me from letting out a moan. I pressed my fingers into the marks he had made, wishing I had something sharp to mimic the pressure of his fangs. It wasn’t enough while stroked myself. My hand shook as I brought it to the other side of my neck. I came as I pressed down on the gash in my neck, thinking about how it must have felt when he tore the piece off of me.

I took a few deep breaths as I realized what it was I just did. This crossed so many lines. I wasn’t sure I could even bring this up to Dr. Chase. I was supposed to see him as a patient next week, and now I’ve just…come to the thought of him. I washed my hands, staring at my red dotted eyes and bloodied hair. I wanted him behind me, I badly wanted him to make a mess of me. I splashed cold water on my face to get the thoughts to stop.

I made my way back to the guest room, wanting to lay down and wallow in my pain and shame. Standing in the doorway was Dr. Chase, arms crossed and still in her pajamas. “We need to talk,” she said.