ALLISON
“Oh, don’t glare at me like that. It’s been years since we last saw each other. You’re finally back home, that’s plenty of reason to be happy,” Alistair said with a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with sick amusement.
He hadn’t changed a bit, despite the years that had passed. That was to be expected, he was a vampire, the undead, an abomination frozen in time. Alistair was more than five centuries old but didn’t look a day over thirty-five.
His dark hair was slicked back, cemented in place with enough gel that I imagined it would feel like a helmet if touched. A black leather jacket was thrown over his broad shoulders, worn over a black shirt and tight, shiny leather trousers.
As always, his fashion sense was questionable, but his cruelty was timeless.
“Bastard,” I spat, inject
