I am in bed with a very slender man, with pale grey eyes and dark blond hair. His skin is also dark, from years of sun. But he is young, handsome. I know he is related—a brother or father. I also know that one of us is undead—a vampire or succubus/incubus. Perhaps both of us. And I am hungry, writhing in lust, telling him to take me. He is resistant, refusing, even accusatory. “You did this to me. I hate you.” I do not care what he says, reach for him to pull him down, knowing my seductive powers are beyond his denial. But he continues to fight his own hunger, picks up a knife and another stabbing implement, holds them to his wrist and screams at me, “Do you want me to kill myself? I can, you know. I can end this right here, right now.” I move slowly, closer, reach around his neck and kiss him. He drops the knife and into my embrace.