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Do You Want Fangs with That

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April 2, 1992


“Come on, Ma’am, just one beer.”

“I can’t serve to a minor, kid.” The woman bartender said to the charming young man leaning across the bar smiling at her. She hated these kids that came prancing in and expected that with a little smile and a wink, they could win some free booze. However, this one was coming pretty close to getting it.

“How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen at most?” She muttered, her southern accent bleeding through. Burkburnett, Texas can do that to you, she thought.

“Just add an extra 50 years.”

“Right,” She muttered as she turned away to go help another customer that had come in. “What’s your name, honey?” He asked. He had the most gorgeous pair of silver eyes on the face of the planet. His hair was shorter and held in a wavy style.

“Donna.” She finally admitted, feeling taken in by his easy charm. She sent one of the other bartenders to serve the heartbroken guy on the other side of the bar, allowing her to carry on her conversation with the alluring teen.

“Well, Miss Donna, I won’t tell anyone. I’ve had it before and I’m only asking for one. I promise I won’t get hammered,” a small deprecating grin tilted his gorgeous mouth.

“Can’t do it, kid, it’s against my morals. I could lose my job.”

He looked around the room and noticed that there were only fifteen people in the place. “I don’t think that anyone will mind. No one is watching.” He leaned over the bar so that his face was close to hers. Oh, this one was a looker, Donna thought.

“It’s summer break. Let loose a little. Why don’t you try something that you’ve never done before?” His whisper caressed her ear. She shivered.

“Fine, fine, one beer. That’s it.” She backed away from the jailbait and watched him smile sincerely.

“That’s all that I’m asking for.” A crooked smile twisted his mouth and he leaned back in the barstool revealing two deep dimples. Donna walked away and couldn’t believe that she let this kid talk her into this. It was just one beer, what damage could it do?

“What are you doing?” A boy with dark hair asked as she walked away. The silver-eyed boy turned away and laughed. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Buying something that you don’t need.” The black haired boy, who only looked slightly older than the grey-eyed charmer, stated and his brow furrowed.

The blonde one smirked and leaned in closer after winking at the bartender as she was getting a glass for his beer. “I have an image to uphold.”

The darker boy rolled his eyes. “One of these days…”

“One of these days what? I’m going to learn my lesson. I’ll turn away from the dark side. I’ve heard that many times before.” Donna walked over to the two boys and handed the light one his beer.

“You need some new material.” He muttered.

“Your friend is not getting one.” She growled as she walked away. The one that was still standing smiled slightly at the side of his mouth.

“You attract the nicest people.”

The boy laughed and then slid back onto the barstool. He went to almost drink the beer when the guy who was still standing frowned and rolled his eyes.

“Come on Chris, this is getting ridiculous. Let’s go home. Morrie’s worried.”

“Morrie is always worried. Tell her I am working on my ‘image’.” The boy called Chris smirked and his eyes lit up like fire.

“I really didn’t think that this was the image that you would want people to see.”
“I was and always will be this image. This is who I really am. A cold, heartless…”



Heat. Chris felt heat. He felt the feeling of warmth wash over his otherwise freezing skin. It was hot, like a sauna. He went completely still and lost track of where he was and who was around him.

“Chris?” A faint whispering sound of his name was barely audible. “Chris?”

Then he fell. He fell to the ground in complete and total pleasure. He felt like he was going to die. But…not exactly death. It was the feeling of the death of this lonesome state. Death of his immortal life.

His rebirth into a world focused around one thing.

“Chris?” The voice came by his head. His eyes were closed. He opened them rapidly.

“We have to go."



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