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“You damn stubborn man.” Max sighed, pointing at the coffee. “Is that helping?” “Not noticeably.” “What does help?” “Blankie.”
The only thing he could give was blood, but Zander kept refusing. He had to wonder—why did this feel like trying to get a toddler to eat their vegetables?
The smile made him look marginally friendlier. Like painting a smiley face on a dagger.
“Why are you asking me complicated questions when I’ve only had three sips of coffee?”
He looked right at Zander and warned, “You are not allowed to go buy me something outrageous because I made you happy.” “Why are you so mean?” Zander whined.
He came all the way down and around, getting a better view of the couch, and immediately took ten points of HP damage. On the couch, sound asleep, was Max. But he’d snagged Zander’s hoodie from somewhere, and the sight of him snuggled into it made Zander clutch his heart and stagger. Oh god, the cuteness. The cuteness was overwhelming. Was it possible to die from cuteness?
The most terrifying vampire mafia boss in North America was nice…sure. Max could hear out of his left eye, too.
Due to unforeseen circumstances, Max’s brain has left the building. We do apologize for any inconvenience at this time. Please try again.
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