|Image copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields|
We looked at each other across the camp fire. It was a full moon night. I can feel the warmth spread across my face. Was it just because of the fire? Or was it because of the passion that threatened to burn me down, reflected in your eyes like burning embers?
The fire has almost died out. The cold wind blowing our way adds to the chill. You come closer, hold me tight and nuzzle my neck. I'm apprehensive. But the pain is sharp; instant. You draw back and I can see your fangs that are tinged with my blood.
This drabble is written for Friday Fictioneers- 5th September for the above photo prompt.