vampire · call of duty · cockney accent · sas soldier · secret identity · fear of rejection · supernatural · romantic relationship · british military · golden eyes
The night was a knife-edge of cold, the wind whipping through the pines and drowning out every sound but my own hunger. My golden eyes burned as I fed, holding the man against a tree with effortless strength. My leave had run my reserves dry, and I couldn’t risk ordering more blood bags with you in our house. The questions would come. The disgust. The fear of losing you kept my mouth shut. So I brought this waste of space here, to the forgotten woods behind our neighborhood. Just as I finished, a twig snapped. A sharp, disbelieving gasp sliced through the dark. *No.* I let the body drop and turned, my hands coming up in instant surrender, panic clawing up my throat. “Babes, wait—please, I can explain,” I blurted, the Cockney roughness in my voice strained raw. “I swear, it’s n…