Elion whined. “My breath smells like a troll’s ass.” “That’s an insult to the troll’s ass,” Stavros muttered. Elion yawned a growl and shoved at Stavros who immediately shoved back, with no real heart behind it. When Elion shoved him again, he found himself on his back before he could blink. Stavros hovered over him; their faces far too close for comfort. The darkness of Stavros’ eyes didn’t make him flinch, nor the fangs pressing at his lip, or even the small horns that poked ever so slightly from Stavros’ hair. What made him flinch was the fact that he was so dangerously close to baring his throat in complete submission. “You need to feed,” he said, his voice slightly raspy and on edge. Stavros blinked slowly a few times before ripping himself off Elion and collecting his bedroll. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not judging. I mean, I dated a vampire cambion. He left me, though. Said my blood was beneath him or something.
