At My Throat

Chapter one

The boy came in through the window.

It was past midnight, the candles illuminating my paper and pen burning low. It's not a worthy career for a lord's son, but I do it in secret, so I won't get yelled at. Yep, writing is punishable apparently. I leap back with surprise, drawing the obsidian knife sheathed on my belt. I'm positively putrid with a blade, but maybe the boy would think I'm decent, realize where he was, wisen up, and leave. Instead, he came fully in and took off his hood, and I couldn't do anything to stop the way my heart pounded stronger than it did for any woman. I stepped back, wishing I'd just charged him and died.

The boy's face was slim, his jawline sharp, and his eyes were wide and deep like the ocean. He stepped foreward, closing what little distance I'd made. Then, he spoke. "I realize how... deeply- deeply... off this seems. Though, I do know you even if you don't know me, Matthew. My name is Athan, if you were wondering." He paused, smiling softly with no teeth. He turned into a pirouette suddenly, making his black slacks clack quietly. "Because you. You are mine." He smiled completely, revealing
Sharp,
Sharp
Fangs.
It broke the midnight spell. It blew me back a couple steps, and I fell. I crashed my head on my wardrobe, rendering me fainted. Useless. But, the last thing I saw was the boy's fangs- Athan's? I suppose- closing into my throat, too close. I suppose I'm gone then... 'his.'