Page 6 of Making Haven
No, I refuse to be jealous of a vampire. Irefuse.
Instead, I’ll grit my teeth and hang on to this distrust and hatred. It’s gotten me through life this far. This lonely existence where I keep everything at arm’s length is better than the alternative.
“Here we go,” Lawrence says as he steps back into the room, his voice light and sing-songy. “I’ve got a couple pillows, one for your head and one for you to elevate your leg, and then I’ve also got some blankets.”
“Wow, a proper slumber party,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “What next? We’ll braid each other’s hair?”
“You’re such an ass,” he murmurs, shaking his head at me. “I still don’t even know your name.”
He tosses the blankets and pillows at me before stepping away, turning his back to me. My fingers twitch as I look down at my sword. A moment passes and I look away. He hasn’t done anything to warrant a sword through his spine. I’m not gonna be a monster like so many other people I’ve met in the past.
I think about not telling him. In the end, I’m not sure what that would actually accomplish other than me being a stubborn ass. “Devin,” I tell him without even looking in his direction.
“My room is down the hall. That’s where I’ll be if you need me. The sun is gonna be coming up soon and I’d prefer if you kept the windows covered for very obvious reasons. There’s some food in the kitchen if you need it but I have a feeling you’re gonna be sleeping the day away after tonight.” He looks over his shoulder, nodding towards my leg. “How’s the leg?”
“Hurts like hell.”
He pulls a bottle from his pocket, tossing it over towards me. “It’s all I’ve got here, but hopefully it’ll take the edge off so you can sleep.”
I stare down at the bottle of pills in my hand for a long moment before I finally force words from my throat, almost choking on them. “Thank you.” But when I look up, Lawrence is already gone.
After swallowing two pills dry, I flop down on the couch. In only a matter of moments, I’m asleep.
Chapter Four
Lawrence
This was probably theworst decision I’ve ever made. What was I thinking bringing some random human into my home? Sure, he needed saving but that doesn’t mean I had to bring himhere.
I run my fingers through my hair, letting out a sigh despite not needing to breathe. Sometimes it’s nice to let it out anyway, especially when I’m feeling melodramatic. It’s the end of the world, I think I’m allowed to be overly dramatic once in a while.
I stoke the fire in my room, getting the coals nice and hot before setting up my tripod over it. I know I’m lucky to have the type of set up that I do. A home with a fireplace in my bedroom, a well filled with safe water, a giant gate to keep all the zombies out. This place is my own safe haven.
It’s not that I don’t want other people here with me, it’s more that the people I run across are so cut-throat that all they see is another obstacle they have to overcome. They see me as a threat and force my hand. It’sexhausting. It’s also depressing as hell.
Which brings me back to the wholeDevinthing. Why the hell did I trust him? For all I know, he could have an entirecamp waiting for him. Once he’s able to walk on his own, what’s stopping him from bringing people here? What’s stopping him from raiding this place or killing me and taking it over for himself?
I set my teapot on the tripod, getting the water hot. If my heart was capable of beating, it would be hammering against the inside of my ribs with how anxious I am. I’m transfixed by the fact that there’s a heartbeat within my home. The sound of Devin breathing is achingly loud in my ears despite him being rooms away. I’m hyper aware of his presence. I’ve been alone for two years and now that I have someone in my space, it’s all I can think about.
Shaking my head, I step over to my wardrobe and quickly get myself dressed in a pair of jeans, a red shirt, and zip up hoodie. By then, my water is heated enough for me to make myself a cup of tea. I don’t necessarily need to consume anything other than blood to live, but I enjoy a warm cup of tea every morning. Blood sustains me but warm tea helps soothe the hunger pangs in my stomach from not being able to feed as often as my body craves.
I sip the tea, letting it settle in my belly. It doesn’t warm my extremities like warm blood would do, but it settlessomethinginside me. A little bit of this is better than nothing. I’ve been living with this craving for a bit now, and it seems to get easier to live with each day that passes. It’s probably similar to learning to live with a missing limb, or chronic pain. I just have to keep on living despite the ache in my stomach, whether I like it or not.
There’s a very easy solution to the ache.
No, I can’t think like that. I’m sustaining myself just fine. I feed on nearby deer. I eat scrambled eggs from my chickens. If I’m really in a bind, I can drink from one of the hens that I keep in the back. I’ve never had human blood before, what with them all on the run from rabid zombies.
There’s a little voice in the back of my head, wondering what Devin would taste like. My mouth waters and I quickly take another sip of tea, trying to trick my brain into thinking this is all I need. It leaves me feeling hollow, but that’s not surprising.
It’s been a few hours and I have a feeling Devin will be awake soon. I bite my bottom lip, trying to get a grip on my self-control. I won’t think about biting my house guest. Not only would that spoil any chance we have at some sort of friendship, but it would be filling for only a short time. It wouldn’t be worth it, not in the long run. Why get a taste for human blood when it can only be a one time thing?
No, it’s better to keep my head clear and focus on making Devin something to eat. I may not need food, but he does.
I pull out a few eggs from my stash. Usually, I fry these up and then feed them back to my chickens. Kinda morbid if I think about it too hard, but with everything else happening in the world, this isn’t even the worst thing I can imagine doing.
Carefully, I place a pan onto the tripod above the fire, waiting until it’s properly heated before cracking a few eggs into it. They give a satisfying sizzle as they hit the hot pan. I scramble them and shift them around the pan until they look done. I transfer them to a plate and set them to the side.
Not wanting this mess to get gross, I quickly clean up the pan and pull the tripod away from the fire so it can properly cool down. I might be an eternal bachelor but that’s no excuse to let my home turn dirty. When I was still human, there were far too many dates that turned sour when I went back to their house and realized they didn’t take care of their living spaces. One guy only had a couch, a cardboard box as a coffee table, and his TV in his living room. I don’t think I ever made an excuse to leave that quickly before!
