Image from WikiMedia by rahematshah kadri
When I first walked in, I was speechless. My best friend and my husband, locked in an embrace in the kitchen. Laura was almost hidden from view, except for one neon pink converse and the fall of her teal hair.
“Honey! How could you?”
Greg straightened, a smear of blood on his nose. “Oh. You’re early.”
He eased Laura down into one of the wooden chairs by the table, and wiped away the blood from her already closing neck wound.
Her eyes were closed, expression dreamy.
“Oh, I um, sorry, dear. I got hungry, and you know, she was right there…” he shrugged and offered a weak smile.
“I told you not to eat my friends!” I snapped, scooping Laura up and carrying her into the living room, propping her up against the arm of the sofa, and turning on the TV. “Sit down!” I jabbed my pointer finger at the marching love seat.
Obediently, he sat.
I perched next to him, channel surfing to find a good movie, and elbowed him in the side. “You’ve got blood on your nose, you pig.”
He scrubbed at entirely the wrong place. “Did I get it?”
“No,” I hissed, pulling out a tissue and applying it with more force than strictly necessary.
He winced, but held still.
Clean and rather red-nosed, he pretended to be engrossed in the movie. A few moments later Laura stirred, blinked, and then smiled, settling back on the sofa. The human mind was elastic. Something in vampire saliva helped smooth the gap between the moments before the bite and when they woke.
Unless the vampire was stupid and tramuatized the heck out of their meal, the human wouldn’t recall the bite at all.
As far as Laura knew, she’d watched some movie with Greg, fallen asleep, and I’d joined them.
I narrowed my eyes at my husband, determined to have a talk with him later. He tended to be lazy, and grab whatever was easiest. Which was fine, as long as it wasn’t any of my friends.