"So how are you going to find out what I've become?" My voice sounds so small I don't even know if he heard it.
"When you taste blood." He says as if it were something normal.
He takes a sip of wine. My stomach drops again and I feel my mouth opening enough to fit an egg.
I want to vomit.
How can he eat at a time like this?
"And how did you know they had turned me and my sister? And why did you come to protect us?" I say, suppressing a grimace of disgust.
"I have a friend who has visions, and she predicted that you would be transformed, but I was too late. And I won't let them take anyone else to that hellish place." He finally shows some emotion in the last part, his face tightening.
His anger is almost palpable.
"You should eat." He says.
"But how can she have visions?" I ignore his words.
"Because she is a 'Neefilin', and Neefilins usually have supernatural gifts, and they are the only ones who are not transformed, they are born that way." He says in one go.
I don't know what to think anymore, a whirlwind of questions invades my mind every second.
"What do they usually turn people into?" I ask, even though I know the answer.
"In vampires or werewolves, but rarely in hybrids."
Suddenly everything makes sense.
I remember the stories my mother read about unnatural monsters with a thirst for blood, and a chill runs down my spine.
"But why did he stick the needle in my heart?" I ask suddenly.
He takes another sip of wine.
"Because the heart pumps blood, which is life, when he injected the poison into you..."
"Poison?" I almost threw my hands on the table but controlled myself at the last second.
He ignores my question.
"It was pumped throughout your body, speeding up your transformation. If he had injected it into a vein, it wouldn't have had the same effect."
Oh, that's great.
My stomach turns over and over..
Simply great. If he had pierced my heart with that poison, I would be dead, wouldn't I?
And I'm pretty sure I'm very much alive.
I am?
And then I see the empty vastness of unconsciousness. Again.
***
I vaguely remember being carried by someone's arms.
That part was good.
And sleeping for what seemed like years, but without dreams just blank emptiness.
As soon as I open my eyes, the light coming from the window almost blinds me making me dizzy and a sudden headache stabs my head. Ugh.
Damn!
I close my eyes again, and I can hear the birds singing in the trees, and the slow sound of someone breathing sitting next to the bed. I can smell freshly made pancakes and a very pleasant masculine perfume, similar to... Lucca.
My mind wanders to what happened before I passed out.
All the disturbing revelations came to light at once.
I almost suffocate. How did I get here?
I open my eyes again and there he is through my blurry vision I can easily recognize him.
But he's wearing ripped blue jeans, a band t-shirt, and common sneakers.
Nothing like the guy who took me to the most expensive restaurant in town, but just as sexy.
"Good morning." Lucca says smiling.
"How long was I unconscious?" My voice is hoarse and I feel thirsty.
"About thirteen to fourteen hours."
"You have been here the whole time?" I give him a side eye.
"Yes, since I brought you."
I try to imagine Lucca carrying me unconscious through the restaurant.
Very strange. Did nobody say anything? Are women fainting there very normal occurrences? I don't think so.
"And how did you change your clothes? You're not going to tell me you do magic."
"No, I wish. I went home when your sister and her friend came here."
"And where are they?"
"They've already gone to school. Mr. and Mrs. Hawks have already left too."
Great, now I'm alone with him. Again. Not a good report to be in this position so far.
Funny how nobody in this home asks any questions.
"Damn, I'm going to be late. Why didn't you wake me up? And why did you stay anyway?"
"You won't be late. I called school and told them you couldn't go today because you felt sick, which isn't a lie. I didn't wake you up because you needed to rest. It was a lot all at once. And I stayed to keep you from being alone, which would be dangerous." He says seriously.
I pretend to believe it all for now.
"I'm sixteen, I know how to take care of myself, and I'm already better." I say as I get up from the bed.
I feel a light, cold breeze over my skin. I'm still using last night's clothes, good, nobody changed me while unconscious which at least makes him less of a pervert.
But suddenly everything spins and my foot gives way and I would have kissed the ground if Lucca hadn't grabbed me and held me against his chest.
I admit, I loved feeling his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin, and the sensation of his strong muscles contracting as he held me. And of course I immediately struggle and distance myself.
"I know, you know it all." He mocks.
Lucca makes me sit on the bed, and sits next to me while I glare at him.
I clench my hands into fists.
After feeling my legs again and making sure I won't fall I run to the bathroom and lock the door.
The person looking back at me in the mirror doesn't have any eye bags anymore, at least it looks like I finally got enough rest. My brown hair is up in a bird's nest and my clothes are rumpled. I look a little disheveled but that's all. Which is crazy to think about since my world was shattered and remade last night and now everything is so normal like nothing happened. I don't know how to feel about it.
So I just push it all back into a dark corner in my mind I can revisit when I'm sure I won't break down.
After a very cold shower, I open the door and peek in.
He's not in the room anymore.
Phew!
I prefer to be alone... I tell myself.
Since I won't go to school today anyways, I put on the first jeans I found in the closet, which happened to be one of my favorites, almost bleached from so many washings but comfortable and loose, a white Guns N' Roses tank top and a pair of gray high-top Converse that are already very worn down but still good to use and won't hurt my feet if I walk for a long time. I dried my hair in the bathroom before, so I just comb it and tie it in a high ponytail.
I go downstairs and head to the kitchen.
My stomach is complaining because I didn't eat anything yesterday.
I think I'll make a sandwich, or grab half of the chocolate cake I have in the fridge, or even call the pizza place and order a family size (just for me), do they have service in the morning? I never bothered to see their working hours before. Maybe I'm lucky.
As soon as I open the door that was half-open, I have the urge to run back, but my feet suddenly take root.
There's Lucca, making pancakes.
He laughs at my dumbfounded face.
Sexier than ever with a pink apron around his waist.
A green-eyed god.
And really, I just want to be alone right now.