You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. He drew a little breath and stepped back. I am yours for the making over. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. “If I am to turn you into a vampire, she cannot know.
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