Page 65 of Those That Don't Exist
I’m pacing Red’s room as she lays passed out on the bed. I had to knock her out before she not only exposed herself but maybe killed her friend in a blood frenzy.
She’s got fangs now. It was the first thing I checked when I got her to her room - although the wound in my hand was a pretty sharp indication.
The inevitable happened and I’m not prepared. I hoped against all hope I wouldn’t see the extended canines as I‘d gently pulled back her top lip. My stomach dropped as the evidence stared back at me. But I couldn’t stop the rush of heat in my veins either.
Seeing her with those deadly pointed teeth took my breath away. For a second I let myself cherish the moment, as fucked as we now were. Red is stunning anyway but seeing her fully transformed was something else. It proves our theory, both her parents must’ve been unturned vampires. She is a full vampire now.
And I’m still fucking bound.
I run my good hand up over my face and into my hair as I push everything aside for now, pulling myself together. I lick my palm to fully seal the bite Red gave me, my saliva knitting the skin together, before leaving her room to check on Bree and Claire downstairs. I need to ensure they didn’t see anything. I also need to guarantee not a trace of blood has been left or Red might lose control as soon as she wakes.
I find Bree in the kitchen, drinking some water. Her now bandaged hand rests on the counter. I can smell the injury but thankfully the bandage does something to smother the scent. Thankfully, with her Fae heritage, I know the wound will be sealed within the hour. I’ve also been around enough blood, and have built enough control, my own fangs haven’t even extended during this whole incident.
“Are you ok?” I ask, genuinely concerned.
“Yes, thanks. Helps having a doctor’s daughter as a best friend.” She laughs. “It's not deep. I swear I’m such a klutz sometimes. How I never fall on stage is a miracle.”
I return the smile before striding to the lounge. Claire’s still cleaning up the mess.
“Here, let me help,” I say, reaching for a cloth to aid in mopping up the spilled wine. And blood.
“Thanks, I love that girl but she does create a mess in everything she does.” Claire chuckles. She doesn’t say it loudly but I hear Bree snort from the Kitchen. Bree’s Fae side meaning she can hear us clearly.
“Love you too!” We hear her call.
“Where’s Rory?” Claire asks, flinging the final bits of glass into a trash bag.
“Upstairs. She passed out from the sight of blood I think,” I say it without hesitation, hoping they didn’t notice my hand at their friend's neck to make her pass out.
“Odd, she’s never seemed squeamish before,” Bree comments as she joins us, taking a seat on the sofa.
“The accident changed a lot of things for her,” Claire says quietly, before turning to me. “I’m guessing you know all about it?”
“I do.”More than you ever will.
“I’m glad you seem decent,” Bree voices, taking me a little by surprise.
“Er… thanks.” I pause. “I think.”
“Me too,” Claire says. “Rory has been fully back to herself since she started dating you. It’s good to see her happier.” I preen a little at the compliment. “Treat her right though, won't you.”
It's not a question, it's a threat. These two females would go to bat for the girl upstairs. I knew their bond was strong but I see it clearly now, they’re like sisters. They both wear the same fierce expression, if I was human I’m sure I would be terrified.
“I can promise to try. I can see how special she is.” I don’t want to lie to them, I realise, as we finish cleaning. Claire lays some sort of powder over the short pile rug to soak the remaining fluids out of the weave. I can’t smell any lingering traces of blood so I think Red will be fine to come down when she comes to.
A shadow brushes up against my leg a few moments later, notifying me Red has indeed started to wake. I quickly help Claire finish packing away the cleaning supplies and first aid kit before heading back upstairs.
I find Red sitting at her desk, gazing into her mirror. She looks pale. She spins in her chair as I enter, panic in her eyes. A sharp canine sticks into her bottom lip as she chews it.
So, she’s aware of having fangs. I wasn’t sure if she felt them before I rendered her unconscious, or if they’d retract before she woke.
“It’s going to be ok,” I soothe her as I kneel in front of her, taking her hands in mine. A single tear tracks down her cheek and I nearly break.
“How?” she asks.
“I’m not sure yet but we will figure it out.” I squeeze her hands in mine.
“Is Bree ok?” Her words are over pronounced, unused to the fangs. I can't help but find it adorable.
