“I can never apologize enough for that,” he said, and his fist clenched tighter onto my blanket.
“Funny. I haven’t even heard you apologize once.” I looked up at him, and he turned away from me, his eyes softening with guilt and shame.
“Alice, I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to protect you. Or myself.” He exhaled deeply, staring out my window for a moment before continuing. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I did. You deserve much better than me, so much better than my life, and that’s why I left.”
“I didn’t want you to leave.” I didn’t understand why but I was almost pleading with him. Part of me had never stopped yearning for him.
“Really?” Peter turned to me, surprised and relieved.
“I wanted to die when you told me you didn’t want me anymore. What does that tell you?” My hands trembled, and my heart pounded so loud I could barely hear myself speak. What was I saying? What was I doing?
“I’ll never stop wanting you. I just couldn’t hurt you again,” he said.
Gently, he placed his hand on top of mine, and electricity jolted through me. It took everything to keep breathing. All my senses went haywire.
“Why are you back?” I whispered.
“I don’t think I can stay away from you anymore.”
He leaned in towards me, but his lips bypassed mine. Instead they rested softly on my neck, kissing the skin running over my veins. A delirious moan escaped my lips, and a tantalizing heat went through me.
His hand that had been gently touching mine had changed, so it pinned down my wrist, not that I minded. I wouldn’t have fought back no matter what he did. I welcomed every touch he gave.
When the sharp prick of his teeth broke the skin, everything was more intense then I remembered. My blood surged through me, hot and silky, making my body quiver with pleasure.
I just started to feel his heart pump with mine, but this sudden darkness stung at me. Just like that, he stopped biting me.
The familiar cold shaking took over me, my body’s reaction to the separation. I collapsed back on the bed, but Peter still gripped my wrist. If he squeezed much harder, my bones would snap. He leaned over, spitting onto my floor.
“What did you do?” Peter turned me, breathing heavily. His eyes burned in agony, but his expression was completely bewildered. “Your blood was so bitter. What have you done? Did you let Jack…”
“Peter.” I shook my head and tried to reach out for him, but he let go of me and backed away.
“Alice, what have you done?” Peter repeated plaintively, and I had never seen anyone look as tortured as he did then. He ran a hand through his hair, and he looked as if he might be sick.
“Peter. I didn’t…” I tried to sit up, but overwhelming dizziness forced me back down.
The exhaustion I felt before came back in tenfold. Even though Peter hadn’t drunk very much blood, I could barely handle what I already lost.
I tried to think, to reason with him, but my mind was suffocating. The lack of blood and the haze Peter put on me were too much. I closed my eyes, meaning to clear my head for a minute, but when I opened them, Peter was gone.
I knew I should call Jack or Milo or somebody. I had to warn them that Peter was back, and he knew what was going on. I wanted to move, but it was far too much work.
Nothing seemed to be working, and the best I could manage was reaching out for my phone on the night stand.
Something was shaking me so hard, I thought I would get whiplash. My body flopped back and forth, and hands squeezed my shoulders. I tried pushing them off, but I could barely even raise my arms. A voice screamed my name shrilly, and I realized belatedly that it was my mother.
“Mom!” I shouted, swatting at her wrist the best I could, and the shaking finally stopped.
“Alice? What the hell is going on with you?” Mom looked at me with wild eyes.
She sat on my bed, holding my shoulders, otherwise I would’ve fallen back onto the bed. Bright sunlight shone in through the curtains, and not only was my mother actually home, she was in my room.
“What are you talking about? What are you doing in here?” I said groggily, and when I tried to push my hair out of my eyes, I poked myself in the eye. I felt like a drunk person when I moved.
“I just got home. It’s ten o’clock in the morning, and your alarm clock was going off, as it had been for the last three hours. You didn’t hear it? At all?” Mom stared at me, trying to figure out if I was high or drunk or just sick. “When I came in here, I turned off your alarm, and you just laid there. I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not dead. I’m just tired.” I tried to shake her off, but she wasn’t letting go so easily. “I’m fine. Really.”