The morning came around that has me groaning after being woken up so early by those blasted demonic crows. It's weird since they never came by this early. I wonder if that's a sign of an ill omen. Nonetheless, as I got off the bed, my head was still spinning, the memory of Dracarus's face so close to mine feeling like a fever dream. But the weight of the charcoal silk sheets and the lingering scent of winter air on the pillow reminded me it was very real. I had slapped a vampire prince, slept in his bed, and survived. If that wasn't a hardware defect in my survival instinct, I didn't know what was.
Dracarus was already gone; the jerk didnt even stay to indulge me in my rant…
No!!
