You've recently moved to New York City and a certain doctor catches your eye from your balcony. As you start to get to know each other, it seems that you may have bitten off (pun intended) more than you can chew by having a friendship with Dr. Micha...
A/N: This is the first part of (hopefully many) to come.
A loud crash scared you half to death, dropping your book and cup of F/D. You jumped up and looked toward your balcony window splintering into thousands of pieces.
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You screamed as something flew into the room through the glass and landed on your floor. Everything felt like it was in slow motion as you brought your arms up to shield your face from the flying glass, grimacing in pain as it sliced your skin. When the glass stopped falling, you look to see a soaking wet black-haired figure laying in the middle of the now destroyed coffee table. A loud thunderclap accentuates the moment as wind and rain followed into the room though the shattered opening. The mystery intruder struggled to get up, starting to crawl slowly towards you. You backed up, grabbing a letter opener off your end table, holding it out in front of you. Your breathing was ragged, heart hammering in your chest and starting to shake from the fight or flight adrenaline.
Your eyes didn't leave the man, backing up until you hit the wall, your breath leaving in a whoosh. Trying to control your fear and shaking, you find your voice.
"I have a weapon and I will use it! Get out or I'll call the police!"
The man was regaining his strength, almost to your leg. You suck in a breath, the pain in your arms finally registering. Looking down, you saw the blood drop from your arms onto the carpet, hearing deep growls and watching his body language change as he fought to keep himself under control. Squinting through your wet hair, you got a look at his mouth. Were those... fangs?
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"Oh, what the hell..." The words came on a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
You knew you should run, but fear kept you in place, your brain focused solely on the man reaching out for your pant leg. A clawed fist reached out and white-knuckle gripped the fabric, face still hidden by his long black hair. You could hear grunting but couldn't make anything out.
