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Who needed human friends when they had a box of wine and a feral raccoon, anyway?
My throat tightened. Drunk girls in bathrooms were the best people on earth.
I kneed him in the balls, grinning as he went down with a wheeze. I was two for two tonight, which was two more times than I’d ever pulled that maneuver in my life. Apparently, it was a night for new beginnings, and I was going to leave a trail of wheezing men in my wake.
“You’re a vampire, for God’s sake. With fangs and maybe even super speed.” “Yes to both, but I don’t attack unarmed women.” “Armed ones?” “Rarely. And only if they’re out for my head.” “I suppose that’s fair.” He shrugged. “I’m a feminist vampire.”
What the movies and books didn’t understand was that immortality was a curse. Years upon years of the same thing, all of it experienced in a haze and punctuated only by the death of anyone you might grow to care for. It cast the world in shades of gray.
