Have you walked into the club? he asked. Not for sex, but for food. Only taking a little blood, just enough blood, never enough to be satisfied, just enough not to die. Me, shivering, brought their attention back to me.
He was still writing in his notebook. You've got my permission to date, or fuck, or whatever. Everyone! His anger flared outward like hot water, and it was about waist high, and rising. She said no to that, too? I asked.
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