"Alec, are you feeling alright?" I heard my roommate Thaddeus ask from the other side of the door to my room. Thaddeus was a 2000-year-old vampire who originally lived in north London. Despite being Stateside since shortly before the American Revolution, Thad still has his, if slightly modernized, British accent. The kind that would make anyone swoon.

Anyone but me that is. My name is Alec, I'm a monster hunter. You would think that we'd be mortal enemies, Thad and I. Quite possibly the only reason we haven't killed each other yet is the threat of mutually assured destruction. You see, neither of us can afford the rent on this place alone, so we...tolerate each other at best.

"I'm fine," I lied, grimacing through the pain as I took off my shirt. I had been hunting last night, killed a werewolf from breaking into an orphanage. But the thing had managed to get a few hits on me. Including several deep gashes in my side that were bleeding profusely.

"I can hear that your heart rate is elevated and your breathing is much shallower than normal! And I smell your blood! Alec, please be decent because I'm coming in!" Before I could stop him, Thad had broken the door open. His eyes widened at the sight of my injuries. He stepped closer, obviously straining his self control as he struggled with the urge to drain me dry. "You're hurt worse than I thought."

"It'll heal."

"You could bleed out without medical attention." Thad reach under my bed and grabbed the large trunk I kept underneath. He ripped the lid off and gingerly felt through the items, being careful to avoid silver things and blessed stakes. He hissed a few times before his hand came back out, red and blistered yet healing quickly, holding the forst aid kit I kept in there. "Luckily for you, I did learn from the apostle Luke, serve in the Union Army as an Army Surgeon during your country's quaint little Civil War, and as a doctor in both World Wars to know a thing or two about this sort of thing. Most of my patients made it." Before I could protest, Thad had already applied hand sanitizer to his hands and put on a pair of latex gloves. Then, he filled a syringe with morphine and took my arm.

"Trust me," he said, loking me in the eyes as his eyes turned red and his fangs lowered, his nails sharpening to claws. He traced my arm with his fangs, his eyes never leaving mine. He coaxed a vein to appear, and then slowly, carefully bit down, piercing my skin and latching to the vein. He brought the syring to close to his mouth and angled the needle so that it slid along his fangs and into the vein before pressing down the plunger all the way. As he pulled back, the pain already started to subside a bit. Then, turning to the wound, he leaned close, tracing the edges with his tongue, causing me to jump and bite down on a moan of shock and pleasure that decided to lodge itself in the base of my throat. "Our saliva helps with the healing process, nut due to the size of these gashes, you'll still need stitches."

I nodded my head as he began threading the needle before taking his lighter and heating the needle up to sterilize it. When I met him a year ago, I couldn't stand him. This 6'2" man with tanned skin and short wavy curls of jet black hair. His body was as sculpted as Michaelangelo's David, which he constantly reminds me that he modelled for, minus below the belt stuff, which I've seen the print of when he comes out of the shower or wears grey sweatpants (much bigger than the sculpture would suggest). His sea green eyes that twinkle when he talks about his favorite things from history or the way they crinkle and his dimples come out when he smiles.

"All done," he said, after he had made the last stitch and cut the thread. His eyes found mine again and the room seemed to heat up by a thousand degrees. I found myself leaning closer, my eyes closing. I felt him do the same. As his lips met mine, it felt like the birth of a billion galaxies.

I pulled away breathless, either because I'd been holding it or because we had been making out for so long that I'd either lost it or forgotten how to breathe. My heart was racing as I looked into those annoying sea green eyes. "I think my condition warrants overnight observation doc," I smiled nervously.

Thad nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. And I have yet to do a full exam." And with that his lips were on mine again as he pushed me onto my back, a roll of gauze, forgotten, unrolling as it went towards the wall.