Stupid werewolf ninja sperm.

Misery, thy name is Mudslide

because daytime leaves vampires less than, well, conscious, I told him, “Take your muffins to Boston and shut it, Terrance.” And then I hung up on him.

My body betrayed me when he was around. Something about him spoke to a darker place inside me, a feral place. A primal place entirely free of inhibitions and responsibilities.

Fortunately, among werewolf women, the word "bitch" is not offensive. I was having a lot of fun with that.
"Hey there, bitches!" I called as I came through the door. "What are my favorite bitches up to today?

Cold air clawed at my face, ripping tears from my eyes. I buried my face deep into Daniel's back and breathed in a mixture of familiar scents - almonds, oil paint, earth, and a hint of varnish. I didn't even question why I was on that bike. I just knew I was suppose to be.