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You bit me on the neck? What kind of a sorry-ass vampire wannabe are you, anyhow?” I grabbed for my dirt-covered purse that lay by my feet. I kept a can of pepper spray in it for protection, or at least I used to. Did I still have it? Did those things have an expiration date? Didn’t matter. If I had to, I’d just use it to bash him over the head. I’m not a wannabe.” He actually had the audacity to look insulted. “I am a vampire.” Psycho, I thought. Total psycho.


Michelle Rowen


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