He had spent centuries with only himself for company, he fed, tortured and killed that was his life and he liked it that way, until she came along and stirred something in him, something he couldn't and wouldn't accept. “If I were you I’d keep that stake sharp. Don’t expect anymore visits like this, next time I come I expect you to use that thing,” he told her pointing to the stake on the bed, and then he was gone.

This is one of the first stories I'm getting serious with. I enjoy getting criticism so rant away at the story so I know what to fix. Also please bear the first couple chapters. They were the first thing I've ever written in the past four to five years. I have to say that chapter three is where the improvement in writing shows a little.