Logan drank delicately, like he’d sipped at the wine at dinner: long, careful pulls. His cold tongue lapped at the spot, neatly gathering every drop. I lay slack in his arms, vastly uninterested. But still, my heart was racing. My mind couldn’t understand why.

Finally, he pulled away, my blood shining around his toothpaste-ad smile. Behind him, out of sight, Jenny began to groan weakly. I heard the unmistakable slap of flesh against flesh. Blood and sex, feeding and ...