Some things become ingrained into us and we learn to avoid them, or tread with caution.

Ice is cold and will numb you.

Fire is hot and will burn you.

Fangs are sharp and will pierce you.

His strong musky scent of pale champagne and earth fills my lungs and senses, overriding everything that makes sense. The impossible becomes possible under his copper stare. He should not exist, but then again, neither should I. He offers freedom from it all, freedom from the endless fighting and loneliness. How I want it all to end. He touches my hand, and the warning signs fail to reach my brain on contact, my connections to this world and my body fading with every step closer he takes. I tilt my head back in invitation, blonde hair falling off my pale, bare shoulders. He does not hesitate.
Ice and fire scorch my veins at the same time, and there is pain, horrible pain. For a moment I see everything I've seen and things I hid from myself in implausible clarity, before the edges of my vision and sight fade with the pain. A tear escapes, freezing on dying skin. No.

Then there is nothing.