While I studied the flex of Jacek's ass as he moved in the kitchen, I hit refresh on my laptop for about the 1,025th time that day. It was Christmas Eve Eve, a day where people bustled about with cheeks stained red from excitement and cold, not approving my college readmission like I hoped they would, the bastards.

"Slayer," he said, popping a mug of blood into the microwave.

"Mmmm?" I hit refresh again, taking notes in my head about the delicious curve underneath his black ...