Epilogue

S oon ended up being farther away than I anticipated. Not because I wasn't ready to join Felix in our shared, bloody forever—but because he had informed me, quite seriously, that he loved the gray in my hair. That he wanted to see more of it. That we should wait till the front had entirely shifted—and then…then—I'd take the change.

You know what really blows my stack?

The fact that I found out halfway through my fucking life that there is apparently a secret supernatural government. And said government apparently operates—on occasion—delivery vans that bring sustenance to frightened little ex-movie stars. Ex-movie stars, who, even after nearly ninety years in hiding, were still terrified of being found out.

I told Felix that it would be easy enough to just tell people he was Lucky's grandson, should they question him, and the look he leveled me with was so flabbergasted I almost felt bad. Like it had never even occurred to him to claim to be related to himself .

He'd told me he'd had no children, and I'd told him that people didn't know that.

Not for certain.

And that uncertainty would be what would lead them to believe him.

Bit by bit—little by little, I helped coax Felix out of his shell.

The sun was a no go. Garlic was fine—though he didn't eat anything other than blood. We didn't know if holy water was an issue, and though I was curious, I wasn't curious enough to try on the off chance it did hurt him. He couldn't enter homes without permission—a fact that became quite annoying because the first time we visited Winnie in her apartment in the city, I'd had to all but force her to do it.

"Let him in," I'd demanded, hands on my hips.

Winnie had stared at me, her dark eyes dancing with the mischief they were always full of. She stood in the doorway, gesturing down the hall as if to say "after you."

"No." I huffed out, annoyed. "Invite him in."

She cocked her head at me, then laughed—luckily not catching on.

"Felix…" she said, addressing my tiny, hat-shrouded lover. "Would you like to come in?"

Felix perked right up, his metaphorical tail wagging, and I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn't reach out and squeeze the absolute shit out of him, he was so damn cute.

"Why Winnie, I thought you'd never ask."

They'd become fast friends…to my horror .

Especially when I discovered that Felix did not, in fact, own a cell phone—but a dusty old antique that hung from the wall. Which…explained why he had never answered my text messages. And also meant that he needed a phone. As soon as possible.

When I'd bought him one, we'd spent an entire weekend texting back and forth while sitting together on his couch while I tried to teach him how to use it. Felix texted like an old man. His tongue poking out, with one finger hitting each key very slowly.

It was…the cutest fucking thing I'd ever seen.

When he discovered the camera, I ascended to a higher plane. Because randomly, throughout the work week, he would send me pictures of things. I was starting to suspect that he set alarms to wake himself up so he could do so throughout the day. His sleep suffered, but our relationship did not. How could it? When I got selfies of Felix snuggled up in his coffin—yes, an actual coffin, my little goth gremlin—with all three of our cats. He sent me blurry pictures of the things he'd seen in his telescope the night before—though I couldn't see what the hell he was trying to show me. I always replied with emojis, because he got a kick out of them. Though…it did take me quite some time to select the correct one. Sometimes, I consulted Winnie. Which she found great delight in. Apparently she thought it was very entertaining helping me flirt with my boyfriend .

When Winnie and Felix had exchanged phone numbers, however, all hell broke loose.

She sent him pictures of me as a child.

As a child.

And Felix—because he was Felix—asked me a thousand and one questions about them. Like…why was I wearing a cowboy hat? (I lived on a farm, where we dealt with cattle, those things often went hand in hand.) Is this why you're so good at lawn work? (I didn't really think those skill sets crossed over, but okay.) Why was I frowning while wearing Christmas pajamas? (Because they are awful, and I refused to ever do it again.)

Unless he asked.

Obviously.

But yes. Felix. Winnie. Friendship. Ugh.

I was happy to see him coming out of his shell, but that didn't mean I wanted my sister to be the person he talked to. What if she told him about that time I'd tripped face-first into a pile of cow shit? I didn't want him to know that about me. What if she told him about how when I was little I'd suck my thumb so often my mother had started painting my nails to dissuade me? Because chipping the polish—and its acrid taste—were far more unpalatable to me than letting go of my oral fixation.

When Felix stared at the photos of me, a wistful expression crossed his face every time. He stared at the sunny spread of the farm I'd lived on for most of my childhood, and my heart would ache for him, and all that he'd lost. Felix had no photos. When he'd left his old identity behind—all his belongings had ended up at estate sales.

Now, they were auctioned off online for exorbitant amounts of money. Collectible items for his fans—who were still very much around, despite it having been over seventy years since the last time he'd appeared on a big screen. Part of him, I think, delighted in the knowledge that all these years later he was still loved.

But I think…it made him sad too.

It was a life he could never return to.

I asked him once, why he'd taken the change. Why he'd chosen the darkness the way he had.

"I thought…" Felix had answered, his voice hushed, head leaning against my shoulder. We were tucked up on his couch, our cats staring at us from their perch on the cat tree. I had a glass of wine in one hand, and Felix was so soft as he nuzzled against me. "I could make it last." The quiet tremble to his voice nearly broke me. "Like…time would slow, and I could keep it forever."

"The fame?"

"The adoration," he corrected gently. "My childhood was not…what one would call happy. I think…I just…"

"You just?"

"I just wanted to be loved," his voice trembled and I set my wine glass down, reaching for his face and giving it a squeeze as I tipped it upward. The look on his face shattered me. My heart ached .

"I love you," I said simply, and Felix laughed—even though I could tell the simple statement meant the world to him.

"You have my face on a t-shirt," he countered, eyes dancing. "You have an album on your phone titled ‘Felix' with over three-thousand photos in it." I nodded, because both of those things were true. "You had my name tattooed over your heart." It was better than getting his face tattooed on my ass. "You doodle our names together on your work notes." I hadn't known he knew that. My cheeks flushed a bit but I nodded. "You love me…more wholly than any of my fans ever have."

I blinked, eyes narrowed. "I am your number one fan."

"You're much more than that," Felix kissed me, steady and soft. He tasted like forever. My heart fluttered.

Felix told me the sun was one of the things he missed the most about being alive.

So I, because I was the best partner-boyfriend-lover ever, made a plan to give him whatever sunlight I could—in whatever capacity I could.

And three years later—when my gray had grown in, and we'd outgrown our tiny town—we moved to an apartment in the city together. I will admit…a lot of the reason we decided to abandon the suburbs was because now that the both of us had shared… hobbies —it was much easier to partake in said hobbies when there was a larger population to whittle at.

There was anonymity in the city that we'd never got in the countryside.

And more resources for a person like Felix .

If he had still relied on the shipments of blood from SAC (the Supernatural Alliance Committee) the city would've been an ideal place to live. They had more access there than they had to our small town. Not that that mattered—because by the time we moved there, I was Felix's full-time blood donor.

And I fucking loved it.

There was something incredibly satisfying about the fact that I could be not only his lover, his partner, his number one fan—but also his sustenance too. My blood ran through his veins. It fueled him. We were connected in a way I'd never thought was possible.

Once, I'd joked about him eating me. And that thought hadn't bothered me one bit. In fact, it excited me. I wanted to be inside him, in whatever capacity, as many times and in as many ways as possible.

Call me possessive, I don't care.

I'd always miss Allen and his crematory, but I figured—it wasn't like Beach Town was too far off the beaten path to visit.

And that was another thing.

Another bomb that had dropped right after we'd killed Barry. Apparently, The Club I'd been a member of hadn't been a murder club at all. Go figure. Instead, it was a hunting club. Of the supernatural variety. And all this time, when I'd spoken about stalking my prey—about eradicating them—about rituals and biding my time, the members of The Club had thought that I was hunting creatures like they did. Not humans. Oops .

Except, of course, Allen .

Bless his heart.

He'd told me to be more open-minded once, when it came to Felix—and I understood now he'd said that because he'd been one of the only people in town that actually knew what Felix was. Don't ask me how he knew. Honestly, I didn't care.

If it had been anyone else, I would have. I would've questioned everything. Perhaps I wanted to eradicate them for having dared know something about Felix before I did.

But Allen had won my trust, and my friendship—and thus, I was content to let him keep his secrets.

Felix, however…was another case. For three blissful, bloody years, I learned every secret he'd ever had. I learned about his first crush—a boy in grade school. He'd gotten spanked with a paddle one time, for trying to slip notes into the other boy's lunch box during class. The teacher had thought he was stealing from his bag—of all things.

Stealing.

My Felix.

My lovely, soft-hearted, (sometimes murderous) but always kind, Felix.

Ridiculous.

The only thing Felix had ever stolen in all his life, was my heart.

And that wasn't much of a robbery. Not when I was content to let him keep it .

I admit, I'd hunted down the first man Felix had ever slept with. Through the wonderful, wide web. It wasn't that hard, honestly. All I'd needed was his full name, and the town Felix had grown up in. Apparently, the little bitch, was ninety-five. Lived in a retirement home in Maine. I half debated going on a road trip to visit him—so I could stomp out the competition immediately—but when I told Felix about my genius, masterful plan, he quickly put a stop to it.

My little killer had morals, after all.

Our kills had to have "deserved" it.

I thought the fact that his first crush had been the reason he'd received corporal punishment made him deserving enough. But Felix informed me that we had to have new rules . And…as a person who liked rules, I couldn't deny him that.

Our new murder code became:

They needed to deserve what was coming to them. (Felix)

They needed to be bullies. (Me)

The "offense" that they were "punished" for needed to have occurred within the last fifty years. (Felix)

Killing everyone Felix had ever slept with was not an option.

"Food" was the exception .

The last rule I didn't like, as it meant I couldn't hunt down anyone from his past, but Felix insisted it was necessary. Especially, when we were talking about forever. A very real forever. A forever that wasn't metaphorical but infinite. Infinite happily ever afters, infinite kills, infinite kisses. I supposed, in light of that kind of future—I could handle a little compromise.

When I inquired about the actual turning process itself, Felix was very upfront with information. His turning had been traumatic. He hadn't known what he was getting into. He'd been blind-sided. Abused. Mine would be far different. It involved paperwork, getting approval from SAC, and I had two options. I could choose to have a public turning, enacted by the local Council. Or…when the paperwork was filed—and we received approval—I could be turned by Felix himself.

There was a long waitlist—because apparently even supernatural governments were annoying that way.

But…Felix said he knew "a guy".

A guy who could get us on the list—

The list that would mean eventually—when I was gray enough—I could become just as fang-y as Felix was. Until then, I spent what free time I wasn't with Felix soaking up as much sunshine as I could.

We'd been approved for over a year now.

We were waiting for the right time.

Moving had gotten in the way, as had Winnie's wedding—you can bet your ass I teased the hell out of her when I found out she was dating someone. A lovely woman who was half her size, and twice as smart as she was.

Our apartment in the city was located inside a building that housed strictly supernatural beings. Not that the general population knew that, because they didn't. Felix—after much cajoling on my end—had finally worked past his personal hang ups about being seen out in public. He was still a bit skittish, but three years of praise, of reassurances—and finally, wonderfully, he was comfortable going out without his damn hat on.

I knew this would be good for him. That the city would be good for him. There was a certain anonymity here that would positively affect our "date nights" and the murder we enjoyed immensely on them. But it would also allow him the shield he so desperately craved. He was coming back to society after so long away, that many things often startled him.

Felix had been isolated for far too long.

I knew this.

And even though the idea of him talking to anyone but me rankled, I…was willing to—grudgingly—put his needs ahead of my own wishes. Which meant, I did my damndest after we moved into our new penthouse apartment, to try to matchmake him with the other supernaturals that lived inside the building.

All of the people I approved ended up not clicking .

Felix ultimately did not need my help—because he was precious and perfect and sunshine incarnate, obviously. Anyone would be lucky to be his friend.

A month into living in the city, Felix finally made a friend.

Nancy was a female vampire who lived on the floor below ours. She had a cat—that got along swimmingly with all five of ours. Don't judge me. Five cats is a perfectly respectable number. We'd started off with the three—and then…Allen had found one rooting around in the trash outside the crematory.

And after that…what was one more?

We already had four.

Anyway—cat tangent over.

Felix's friend… Nancy —was…alright, I supposed. Her hair was massive and full of secrets. She liked pop culture, way too much, but Felix enjoyed their movie nights, so I didn't say a word. She crocheted with him. Which was something I had tried to do—and failed miserably. And at night, she jogged with him around the city—getting him out of the house, and gossiping with him about trends, and apps, and blah blah blah.

Nancy won major points with me when she didn't comment on the nights (which was most of them) that I trailed behind the two of them in my car to make sure they stayed safe. Realistically, I knew that they were both vampires and probably did not need my protection. One handed, they could probably even bench press my Mercedes if they found it necessary.

Nancy was like Felix .

When she'd been turned, she'd discovered it came with its own set of challenges. According to the both of them—because I'd asked—all people were different. Being turned didn't necessarily mean you'd get the perks that Felix had, super strength, speed, and his rather handy "thrall." Some people turned and nothing much changed at all.

Aside from insatiable bloodlust, and never-ending life.

Apparently with the "perks" came equally frustrating "downsides." Like the fact that Felix could not go out in the sun at all—whereas some vampires who had not received as many "gifts" as he had, could.

Which was why—when he was off jogging with Nancy one day—six months after our move—I enlisted help from all three of my sisters to surprise him with the plan I'd cooked up back when we'd still lived in the suburbs. Felix had told me his birthday was in June. June twenty-eighth, to be exact. And though it'd been many years since he'd seen sunlight, and he should've been used to its lack by now, he still sat by the heavily curtained window some days when he woke up early and soaked up its warmth.

"There's no way we're going to finish before he's back," Winnie complained, because she was a complain-y complainer who complained. I was not taking any of her shit today. I was a man on an important mission. I had a Felix to impress. Winnie and the "No Glove, No Love" bumper sticker I'd gotten her for Christmas, could kiss my ass.

Not literally .

Oh god.

Fuck.

Ew.

"Shut up and paint, Winston."

"Okay, Marsha."

Melissa laughed—and Winnie…well.

She shut up and painted.

When Felix came home—after I'd quite literally herded my sisters out the door with a broom, all it took was one sniff of our home for him to know what I'd been up to. He scanned the industrial style apartment, looking for the paint, I no doubt bet he smelled.

"Marshall Warden," he laughed, eyes crinkling with affection as he cocked his head to the side. "What have you been up to?"

Grinning broadly, I gestured for him to lead the way—and together, we entered the guest bedroom I'd just redone in record time. The paint was still drying, the scent thick and uncomfortable in the air. I was half-tempted to plug my nose, but I didn't. I was far too excited for that. Clenching my hands into fists so I wouldn't reach out and grab Felix—because I wanted him to focus on his gift, dammit—I waited with bated breath.

"You…" Felix stared at the room in wonder. I didn't need to see his face to know what expression he was making. It was the same one he'd made when I asked him to marry me—legitimately—the day we'd shared our first kill in the city. The same face he'd made when I told him I wanted to turn with him. The same face he'd made when I explained to him how vast the fortune I'd accumulated was. Not that we needed it, as Felix apparently, had a rather cushiony bank account of his own.

"You did this for me?" He asked, his voice wobbly. He twisted to look at me, and the second I saw the look on his face, I reached for him. I curled around him, soaking up his sunshine. He clutched at the back of my sweater vest with a wet little sob.

Proud of myself, I nuzzled into his shoulder, trying to see the room through his eyes. To understand what he was feeling.

The bright yellow paint was still tacky on the walls. Little white paw prints spanned the room in random loops along the walls. I'd hand-picked every last detail of the space. From the giant sun accenting the back wall—and the brilliantly bright lights that flooded the space with gold—to the cat trees, litter boxes, and toys that lay neatly in their places throughout the room. There was a cabinet beside the sun mural that housed the other necessary supplies, of which I'd done extensive research. Clorox, Lysol, Rescue wipes and Rescue spray, diluted bleach.

"Forever is a long time," I said softly as Felix clutched me close. "I wanted to give you a little sunshine—and perhaps…"

"Perhaps?" Felix's voice wobbled where it was buried against my chest.

"Something to work toward. "

I filed the paperwork for our cat rescue the next week, bright and early, Monday morning.

Lucky's Ward received its first honored guest only a few days after opening. We contacted the local animal control to make sure he had no owner, took him to the local vet for a check-up, and a week later…he was officially ours.

I didn't think I'd ever seen Felix happier than he was, sitting in that room, surrounded by the furry children he was raising.

Every day I fell more in love with him.

Five years after Barry's Bloody Bash, the front of my hair was entirely gray.

Logically, Felix and I had a small wedding ceremony. Felix had laughed when Winnie had jokingly told me she thought I'd be a bridezilla, but I'd known she was right. If we tried for a large wedding, I was sure to nitpick every last detail.

I'd obsess over it.

Which was why…small and personal was better.

More romantic, anyway.

Especially as it would be my last day as a human.

Felix and I wore white and black respectively. We hired an officiant and dressed all our cats in matching formal wear. They were incredibly well-behaved, crowded around our living room. My father sat in his wheelchair, Melissa behind him, and Winnie to his left. He'd given me a single grunt and a head nod—and I'd nearly burst into tears, I'd been so moved.

The view of the city at night through the giant glass panels on the wall made Felix glitter as we said our vows. Winnie ugly-cried the entire ceremony, and I was… giddy .

Giddy.

Because Felix was mine now in every possible way I could claim him.

Except…one.

When everyone left, we peeled the cats out of their clothing—after taking several hundred pictures for our shelter's Instagram, and rounded them upstairs.

Our song played soothing and sweet, notes lilting through the air as Felix and I danced around our living room, just like we had all those years ago.

Felix sipped from my neck as we swayed, sucking and gnawing, the sharp bite of his fangs lulling me into a sense of fuzzy calm with his venom. He lapped at my throat, cleaning up his mess as I moaned softly against him, my cock poking insistently against his belly.

Every time I was reminded of how dangerous he was, my body reacted.

"Are you sure about this?" he murmured, lips glistening red, his lovely tongue flickering out to catch the last taste of my blood .

I nodded, my heart stuttering, pleasure coursing through my veins.

"I've never been more sure of anything in all my life."

I'd been wearing my ring for five years now, but its weight felt somehow… different —now that we were as official as we could be, considering the fact that Felix did not have an active identity. That was something we could remedy, but we hadn't found the need. At least…not yet. One day, I'd have to get a new identity too, as Marshall Warden-Finley could not live forever at age forty-three without attracting notice.

"I'm glad we waited," Felix said softly, stroking a hand through the white and gray strands that filled the front of my hair. He traced over my cheekbone, eyes dancing with heat. It simmered between us. My belly flipped, and my already hard cock jerked.

"Me too," I managed, voice deep.

"I have…one last gift for you—" Felix murmured. "A wedding gift."

I perked up. For a person that hated gifts, I sure loved his. "You do?"

"Yes." Felix's fangs flashed when he smiled, and I tipped down low so that I could taste it. He was so soft. So wonderful, I couldn't help but push into his mouth, my tongue sliding along his fangs to taste the remnants of my own blood.

"We're going to go hunting, my love," Felix promised, pulling away enough that he could speak. "I'm going to turn you, and we're going to go hunting. Together. "

"Please—"

I gripped his hips tight, fingers biting into the soft flesh as Felix dragged his mouth, slow and hot across the corner of my jaw, down my neck, to the base of my throat. His teeth worried the skin there, pressing into it in a sharp, delicious tease that had my hips pumping, chasing friction.

"Would you like me to turn you like this?" he asked softly as I tipped my head to the side, bending my knees to give him more room. "Or…" his lips dragged back up to my ear, his breath fluttering along the shell of it and making me twitch.

"Or?"

"Would you like to be turned…when this big—" One of his hands found my cock and gave it a firm squeeze. "Delicious cock…" Another squeeze. I whined, rough and needy, rutting into his hand like a senseless beast. "Is inside me?"

"Inside, inside, inside," I chanted—uncaring that I sounded like an absolute idiot as I did. My voice was throaty and vibrating with need as Felix pulled back. His grin was infectious. Delicious. Intimidating in a way that made me hard enough to pound nails.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" He softened his grip on my very hard, very needy cock and I sobbed. "Pretty, capable Marshall," Felix clucked his tongue. "Reduced to a dog in heat the moment he catches my scent."

"Fuck. "

"It'll be different," Felix warned, leading me by my cock, gently pushing on it and backing me toward the couch. "When you're turned."

"It…will?"

"Your senses will be heightened." His palm pushed more firmly against my aching dick.

Following his prompting, I backed up another step, already panting for him. My gaze snapped from his face, to his throat, imagining what it would feel like to actually be able to break skin. Then it traveled across his shoulders—so fucking pretty in his white tuxedo—down his tiny waist. I licked my lips, imagining those legs spread around me, my cock pistoning inside him. Our hips slapping. The sound was obscene enough that picturing it alone was enough to make me blush.

"You'll feel… everything ." Felix loosened his grip and I sobbed, burying my head in his lemony hair. Electricity zapped down my spine when he moved again, his hand shifting till one of his nails scraped teasingly over my slit through the tight fabric of my dress pants.

"E-Everything," I echoed, trying to pretend like I was listening when all I could think about was yanking his pants down, throwing him against the wall, and shoving myself in dry.

Felix gently tapped at my balls at the same time my calves hit the base of the couch. "Look at you," Felix purred, kicking my legs open wider so his fingers could creep back farther. He squeezed my balls and my eyes rolled back. "Always led by your dick when I'm around."

My chest heaved, and Felix laughed—a low musical sound.

It wasn't mean.

But it was delicious.

I liked it when he got rough like this. Liked it when he bit, when he grabbed, when he forced me to do exactly what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. I may be the one that fucked him, but there was no denying who exactly was in charge here.

"Even on our wedding night," Felix added, and he sounded amused. His other hand rose up, curling over my jaw, tipping my head to the side so he could stare at my throat. He'd always used to do that—stare—before I even knew what he was. I just hadn't known why.

Now that I did, the movement grew even more tantalizing.

A predator, sizing up his prey.

My beautiful little monster.

"Your heart is racing," Felix murmured, thumb skimming down the length of my throat so he could trace the veins. "Are you scared?"

"No," I gasped out.

He grinned. "I didn't think so."

And then he was tightening his grip on my cock and urging me back. Like a puppet, I fell backward onto the couch, legs spread, my cock still clutched in his grip. Held captive by the only man I'd ever loved more than myself .

"Oh…Marshall." Felix groaned, sliding into my lap—his rightful place. He looked…god, he looked like sin, dressed in white—like his hands weren't as blood-stained as mine. He peered at me through his lashes, red eyes luminescent because he was freshly fed. "I own you," Felix murmured, lips dragging over the corner of my jaw, over to my ear. "Don't I?"

"You do," I gasped out, my cock weeping, ruining my suit pants. But I couldn't bring myself to care.

"My husband," Felix purred and I whined, hips jerking into his grip. "My big, loyal guard dog." I grit my teeth, trying not to openly sob even though I wanted to. "The love of my life."

"Forever," I promised.

"Forever," he agreed, and then—his hands were deftly flicking the button on my pants open, sliding my zip down—and oh. Oh fuck. Yes. Yes. I jolted into his touch, cock angry and red where it peeped out of my clothing. Felix fanned his fingers along it, sliding them down to wrap around the root, before dragging up, up, up. My head tossed back, the scratchy glide of his cool palm sending me spinning.

"Where's the lube, darling?" Felix asked, lips at my ear, tongue slicking along inside it as my hips began to twitch. Like the dog he accused me of being, I chased his tightness, head full of visions of taking him.

I'd had him hundreds, if not thousands of times.

But each time was somehow better than the last.

He was intoxicating .

"I—uh—" I tried to speak, to answer his question—but nothing would come out. All I could think about was fucking him, my hips thrusting eagerly into his grip, over, and over, and over.

"Stay here." Felix gave my ear one last, parting lick, before he was gone.

I sobbed, fucking into the open air, my lonely cock standing proud. The weeping head leaked some more, my foreskin peeled back as my fingers bit into the leather couch cushions. But as quickly as he'd disappeared, Felix reappeared.

Naked.

The long, pale line of his body taunted me as he slid gracefully down the last few steps on the stairs that led to the upper floor of our loft. My dick jerked, and I groaned, reaching down to give my balls a little tug so I wouldn't spill right then.

Felix had nice feet. Shapely, neat.

Sexy as hell ankles too—ankles that taunted me every time he decided to tease.

Up my gaze went, tracing the supple, muscular length of his legs. God, those legs. Long and pale, hairless, because he'd shaved. (I'd greatly enjoyed watching him do it—and helping when he let me).

Felix was sex incarnate.

Especially when he slid across the carpet as smoothly as if he'd been floating. Effortlessly confident. As the years had passed, Felix only grew more gorgeous. Confident in a way he hadn't been before. We had grown together, stronger than ever before, both of us becoming the monsters we were always meant to be.

Felix's cock mocked me, peeping at me where it lay in a nest of dark, gorgeous curls. Dark waves that matched the curls on the top of his head. He'd stopped dying his hair in preparation for the wedding—and fuck.

Dark-haired Felix was my kryptonite.

Mouth watering, I tipped my head back, meeting the glowing molten red of his gaze as he crossed the distance between us. The ring I'd given him glinted on his hand as he held out the bottle of lube, brow arched.

"Hand off my property," he said softly in greeting, his voice crackly soft. I released my cock immediately as if burned, a fresh drop of slick slipping down my crown as I groaned. "Thank you."

"Mmm," I bit my lip, staring at his tight little tummy. Staring at his ribcage—god, it was fun to nip at. Staring at his perky pink nipples—my favorite place on his body to abuse. The way his thick pecs bounced a little when he shifted, just to tease.

"Do you know…" Felix purred, finally crossing the last of the distance between us before climbing onto my lap again. "How fucking gorgeous you look right now?" Felix passed me the lube, and greedily, I squirted some onto my fingers, getting them warm as he spoke—though my eyes never left his face.

My cheeks flushed .

"With that big fucking chest," Felix flicked one of my nipples and I groaned, reaching back with my clean hand to skim up the outside of his thigh. I expected to be chided for my impatience, but he was in a giving mood, apparently, so he didn't. "Those shoulders—" Felix traced down my trapezius muscles, to the swell of my shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there appreciatively. "You're going to be so frightening when you're changed. My gorgeous fucking beast."

I panted after him, pushing my luck, my hand skimming up a little higher, fingers digging into the meat at the crease of his groin and upper thigh. His hips jolted, his cock poking out at me, calling my name. I wanted to sink it into my mouth—to suck and slurp while I pushed my fingers up inside him.

But we were both aching.

And as much fun as playing and teasing like this was—I could see the need on Felix's face, just as ragged and brittle as the need I was sure echoed on my own.

I could imagine our future so clearly.

I'd had five years to visualize, after all.

Felix kissed me, swallowing my groan as I slid my fingers back behind his balls, rubbing his perineum. Back I slipped, further and further, my other hand holding him still while my slick fingers finally found their home. His hole fluttered against them, sucking at them greedily. I'd fucked him twice today already so he was already loose and a little wet.

Probably still leaking my cum.

Groaning, I leaned forward, biting at his shoulder as I slid my finger inside. He squeezed around me and sighed, head tossed back—like all this time he'd been waiting for this like I was. I slid a second finger in, eager to watch his brow furrow.

My cock jerked, and all I could think about was sinking into him.

Of fucking him.

Of making him whine and bounce on my lap.

Impatient, I pulled my fingers out. Felix grunted, shifting his hips wider when I tapped his thighs. As if he'd done it a thousand times—because he had—he arched his back. His lovely ass shifted, cheeks parting to give me room to work. Meanwhile, his fingers dug into my shoulders, and—oh fuck, yes. Yes, yes. Sweet, slick, delicious, Felix's hole glided down with a practiced swivel of his hips to kiss the aching head of my cock.

I grunted, flexing into him immediately—my natural reaction to feeling something slick, tight, wet. Felix gasped out, my crown popping in.

"You have such a nice, fat cock," he shuddered, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

I grunted, still biting into his shoulder, worrying the flesh there as my eyes pinched shut. I grabbed his hips with both hands, then in one swift movement, plunged him down onto my aching prick.

"Fuck," Felix gasped out, his tight grip growing slack as he ground down into me. My perfect little, fangy cock slut. His lovely, peculiar teeth flashed as his head tossed back and he groaned. And then I was…just…fuck yes.

In, in, in.

I slapped him down onto my pelvis, grinding, fucking, chasing oblivion in the tightness of his body. Our skin was sweaty, slick, sticky as I pounded up into him hard enough his eyes rolled back. He liked it rough as much as I did—and we'd both been wanting this all day.

Husbands.

Together.

For the first time.

"Marshall—" Felix gasped out, my name music on his lips. He dropped his head back down, his eyes black with lust, lips flushed and kissable. I released his shoulder, more than a little pleased that it took a couple seconds for the bite I'd left to disappear.

"I want it," I promised him, watching his fangs glint, my pulse racing. I couldn't stop fucking him. I couldn't. My hips had a mind of their own, slapping into him with a rabid, feral rhythm that made him choke and stutter. "Give it to me."

Forever was so close.

"Marshall—" Felix sobbed, dropping down, his lips dragging over my neck, a slow tantalizing glide.

"I'll give you everything," I promised through gritted teeth. "Just—please."

This was it.

This was the end .

I was about to die.

To be reborn.

I'd waited, waited, waited for this.

I'd ached for this.

I'd needed this.

And here…we were.

At the precipice of something new, something beautiful, something intimidating and evil—but wonderful. The concept of living forever would've been intimidating if I had not known I'd be spending eternity with the lovely man currently squeezing my dick.

But I did know that.

I knew that forever with him was better than anything alone.

When Felix's teeth sliced into my neck, it felt different than before. Sure, he'd fed from me so many times I'd lost count. (608 times—I lied.) There was an air of warmth in the air, flickering, electric. Excitement thrummed through my veins, making me jittery and needy, and my stuttering hips even greedier.

The sucking, gluttonous slurps as Felix took me inside him—in every way he knew how—filled my head. I buzzed from the inside out, fireworks bursting behind my lids as his venom flooded my body. More and more, over and over. Icy hot. It burned-burned-burned.

It burned—it.

It.

It .

It—

Oh.

The last thought I had as my head fell back against the couch, my hands falling limp at my sides, slipped through numb lips. "You look like an angel."

"Oh, Marshall." Felix made a greedy, hungry sound, his eyes dark with heat.

Through a fog, I watched as Felix pulled back, then sliced his own wrist open with his teeth, slippery red blood staining our suits as he pressed it to my mouth. Hot, coppery wet, his blood filled my mouth—but all I could think—

All I could think was that I love, love, love, loved him.

And I was honored to have the opportunity to do it forever .

Forever.

Forever.

Forever.

Floppy hats or not.

Felix was right, by the way.

Everything was better when I was turned. The burning clutch of his body—suddenly warm now that we were both temperature-challenged. The sound of his breath—shuddery and soft when I fucked into him, glancing off his prostate till his eyes rolled back. The way he moaned, the way he clutched at me, hot-tight-hot.

I buzzed-buzzed-buzzed.

My stomach growled, aching, aching—

Still buried inside Felix's body, my own teeth found his neck—sinking inside him as a vicious, needy hunger burned through my body. Hungry, hungry, hungry. Empty, empty, empty.

"That's it," Felix moaned, voice low. His fingers found my hair, twisting tight into it as he swiveled his hips. For once, mine had stilled—even my need to fuck stalled as the hunger overtook my body. "Take what you need, sweetheart. I'm here."

Felix had told me when he had been turned it was a scary, lonely experience.

I felt nothing of the sort.

The world shifted—the floor moving—and suddenly, I realized I'd been the one to move us. Felix was on his back, his legs around my waist, his throat parting beneath my teeth. I tried to be gentle. I tried—but I—

Oh fuck.

Yes.

Please, please, please.

Hot, slippery, delicious blood filled my mouth. I gasped and sobbed, taking more—taking as much as I could, slurping, insatiable. Felix swiveled his hips again, and I realized—belatedly—that I'd started fucking him again.

Inside his tight, wet, delicious heat.

Then out—only to push back in with a snap of my hips.

Humping him as my cock leaked, and I—Oh. Oh. Oh.

Heaven .

Bliss.

My skin was buzzing, the couch creaking as my fingers tore through the fabric.

"That's it—" Felix gasped out as I fucked him brutally, taking more blood from him than he'd ever taken from me. Distantly, I realized I hadn't asked him if it would affect him if I drank from him. But I could only assume the answer was no—because the way Felix was grinding into me, clutching my head closer, closer, closer made it obvious that he liked this.

He liked this so fucking much.

I could understand.

Because I liked it too.

Loved it.

Love, love, loved it.

When I finally came, it was with a garbled, broken gasp. My teeth tore from his neck, and I watched bleary eyed as the skin began to immediately knit itself back together.

Felix's eyes were glowing—and mine were too—I could tell because I could see the red light reflected back in his gaze as he grinned.

He grabbed my face, fingers digging into it the same way I always did to him.

"Look at you," he purred. "My beautiful, wonderful husband."

"Felix," I gasped out, surprised I could find words at all.

His name seemed to be the only thing I remembered .

I could feel my cum slippery and hot where it wetted the way for my cock to continue to rub up inside him. His brow scrunched as my hips started moving again—probably sore now that I could actually match his strength.

Grinning, I reached down for his cock, only to find that it was as spent as mine was.

"You are beautiful," Felix told me, his voice quivering. His eyes were a little wet, and I could see why. Until this moment we'd talked and talked and talked—but now…now our forever—the forever we'd promised was reality.

I licked his blood from my lips, finding myself somehow even more insatiable than before.

Still, the aching, gnawing hunger in my gut remained.

"Felix," I said softly, a quiet, needy croon.

"I know, darling," he echoed back, leaning up to kiss me—bloody lips and all. "I know."

And he did.

He'd warned me of this. Of the hunger. I'd been prepared. Or at least…I had thought I was.

Now I wasn't so sure.

"Please," I gasped out.

Felix nodded, scrubbing his fingers over my cheeks, probably enjoying how pathetic I looked right now, begging for him, my cock still hard and wet. "You need more," he murmured softly, fingers slipping down to pull my bottom lip open so he could see my fangs .

My fangs.

What a weird, strange thought.

Fangs.

Fangs that I would use to drink blood.

"Whatever you need, darling."

And then…like the good sport he was, he let me pull out, flip him over, and feast on his ass. Quite literally. By the time I was done, there were weeping bite marks all over it, and all the cum I'd filled him with had mixed on my tongue with his blood.

When I mounted him again, it felt like the beast inside me was right at the surface. Slap, slap, slap, I fucked into him, forcing him flat onto the couch as I gasped and growled, nails digging into his flesh.

I could see why he bit so much now. It was almost impossible to control the need to eat.

To take him inside me, in whatever way possible.

"Take it, take it, take it," I chanted, the slick, sweaty rutting lighting me up from the inside out. "Take it, take it—" I growled, dropping down to sink my teeth into his neck again, this time from the other side.

I fucked him four times.

In a row.

By the time we finished, Felix was covered in bite marks. Bite marks that were slow and sluggish to heal, as I'd exhausted his blood supply apparently. He was sleepy soft, cuddled up in my arms as I lowered the blackout blinds so that the first dregs of sunlight wouldn't touch our skin.

We retired to bed.

Bloody.

Blissful.

At peace.

And as Felix and I curled up beneath the covers, our limbs tangled, our still hearts pressed together, the monster inside me finally slept.

"Goodnight, Marshall," Felix murmured, sleepy soft.

"Goodnight, Felix," I countered, voice just as slow.

Tonight we'd wake when the sun sunk low.

We'd take what we needed. Stalk the streets for prey. Delight in the game, the chase, the pleasure of the kill

We'd raise the kittens we'd saved.

We'd spend Christmases together.

Felix would crochet more wisteria.

I'd detail my car.

Husbands.

Monsters.

Lovers.

Then we'd rest.

And do it all over again.

Forever, forever, forever .