"So, how did you become a vampire?" I asked, reaching for a bag of chips.
Whitney stared at me, eyes wide. Her expression screamed terrified.
I froze. "I'm sorry," I said quickly. "Is that rude to ask a vampire?"
I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth. For all I knew, asking how a vampire became a vampire was like asking a woman how old she was or how much she weighed - it was something you just didn't do. In my defense, though, there wasn't exactly an etiquette handbook for conversing with vampires.
"No, it's okay," she said after a moment. "I was just surprised by the question."
"I'm sorry," I said again. "Really. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
She smiled, her demeanor back to her normal happy, carefree self. "His name was David, and I thought he was the love of my life." She adjusted so she was facing me, her legs tucked beneath her and one arm propped on the back of the couch. "He was a drifter, and one day, he wandered onto my father's farm."