There are few things in the world that will startle me awake from the rested, satisfied slumber I now experienced; s*x with a vampire will certainly satisfy a person. Those things generally include thinking I left the stove on, why the tip of a shoelace has an actual name—it’s an aglet—and the assorted reasons why I know this, the nightmare of my i*********e, and the ever-present reality of my life.
But on this early evening, I added a new one to the list: realizing that I, Medea of Colchis, Protector of the Golden Fleece, Mistress of Potions, etc, added a new title that I didn’t necessarily want to get out.
That title was Leaver of Texts Unread.
And how, pray tell, did I gain this horrific title? It was when I saw a rather familiar-looking dragon soar through the sky, magical wards b
