Dying Is My Sin
an excerpt

‘Where am I?’ I asked myself, the pain at the base of my skull flaring up again when I tried to sit upright. Every part of my body screamed fire and regret as I struggled with the simple task of looking around me. My vision swam, and I fought the bright white light that blocked out any and all coherent thought. ‘No, I can’t die! Not like this!'
“So… you’re awake…” His voice was like smooth, cool silk dripping over my burning ears, and I flinched from the muffled sound. I started to wonder, briefly, if there were cotton balls in my ears, but another spike of pain drove the thoughts from my head. I reached back very, very slowly, feeling a warm wetness where the pain was centered from. Then, I could smell that metallic scent that seemed to spark the excitement in his eyes.
‘Please,’ I pleaded to whatever higher being might be listening to me, ‘Please let this be a dream!’ I tried to scoot away from the sound of his voice, but my traitorous limbs stayed frozen in place, his obsidian gaze locked on mine. I was trapped, his prey, and there was nowhere I could hope to go.
“Don’t run, little Nightingale,” he cooed to me, kneeling down next to me and putting his arms around my waist. His frigid skin sent shivers up and down my spine as he pressed his lips to my neck, baring fangs dripping in his glistening saliva. I tried to pull away from those gleaming daggers, waiting to plunge into my neck, waiting to drain me of my blood.
'This can't be real...' I squeezed my eyes shut and waited, tense and unmoving, for those teeth to break my skin.