Maybe it was because this was his way of protecting the family. If she did this, it would certainly devastate everything around her, himself included. I don’t know what would happen to our family unit. If we would split up between them, like children of divorce, or… I don’t know.
It was strange, because even though I knew I was going to live a very long time, I somehow had expected that everything would stay the same forever. Ezra had once told me that everyone I know would die, and that I would outlast everything. But I had never believed that I would outlast this family.
- 19 -
When Milo and Jack finally came back from their blood run, I told them about the fight. Milo went to talk some sense into Mae, and we let him. Jack still invited Peter to watch a movie with us, but after all the drama, we decided to watch something lighter than an epic British mini-series. So we went with the opposite and put in Futurama.
As the night wore on, I decided to go to bed, and I wanted to invite Jack to stay with me. The fight between Mae and Ezra had left me feeling shaken up, and I wanted to hang onto something that I knew would be around forever. But Peter was lingering around us, giving me a weird look, and I didn’t feel right about asking him.
The next morning, he tried waking me bright and early the next day to take Matilda to the dog park, but I wanted to sleep in. The joke was on me, though. After he left, I couldn’t fall back to sleep, but I blamed that on how hungry I was.
It had been a dull ache growing in the pit of my stomach since yesterday. When we had been watching TV with Bobby, I found myself more fascinated by watching the pulse pounding in his jugular than in the images on the screen.
Today was even worse. I had a dryness in my veins and my throat. My limbs felt crackly when I moved them. I had no energy, but I felt strangely frenetic. I knew I had to eat soon, but for now, I decided to just avoid Bobby.
Milo and Bobby were going to have to go to the club again soon to check on Jane, but I didn’t feel up to being around humans. In fact, I could hardly stand being this close to Bobby. Heartbeats echoed in my ears, and the faint scent of Bobby permeated through my walls. I was going to have to distract myself before I went insane.
I went about getting ready, but I couldn’t find the energy to shower. I just brushed my teeth, got dressed, and pulled my hair back in a messy bun. I tried to call Jane again, but she still wouldn’t answer.
I probably should’ve considered eating, but I really, really had to control myself. Because I really, really wanted to be alone with Jack, and this was the only way I could trust myself. I knocked on Peter’s bedroom door and chewed my lip. I stood a better chance of not biting him than I did Bobby, and even if I did bite Peter, he stood a better chance of living.
“What?” Peter opened his bedroom door, looking irritated. “Is the house on fire?”
“No. Can I come in?” I tucked a stray stand of hair behind my ears. His green eyes were bewildered, but he relented and took a step back from the door so I could go in.
When I brushed past him, I inhaled deeply. He smelled so good, and I had almost forgotten that. His blood used to be my favorite scent in the world, before I really knew that’s what it was. When I had been human, the tangy scent he left behind always intoxicated me, and I hadn’t realized that it was his blood I was lusting after. Now I did, and the smell was even stronger and more delicious.
“You look hungry.” Peter shut the bedroom door behind me when I came in, and that might have bothered me if I had a clearer head.
“Yeah, well,” I tried to play it off like nothing. For him to notice meant it had to be getting bad. My skin was ashen, and my heart beat too fast.
His room looked as messy as he would allow, which was much cleaner than mine and Jack’s room. His large four-post bed was unmade. The French doors that led onto the balcony off his room were slightly ajar, letting in a chill breeze that ruffled his curtains.
Overflowing bookshelves lined his walls. Peter had apparently decided to spend the day reading, and a few books were discarded on his bed. On the white chair by the bookcases, he had a book splayed open, a red ribbon marking his page should it close.
I paced his room, trying to ignore the painful gnawing inside of me, but I stopped when I saw the red stain on his white rug.
“Perhaps you should eat,” Peter said, but there was an uncomfortable edge to his words. He had caught me staring at the stain. It was blood, my blood, from when he had nearly killed me.
“Why don’t you throw away the rug?” I twisted at the hem of my shirt, feeling fidgety, and turned to face him.
“As you can tell, I’m really not in the mood to hang out,” he completely ignored my question.
He avoided my gaze and gestured to his room, as if the state of it would signify something to me. Underneath his smooth tan skin, I could see his veins pulsing delicately, and it quickened ever so slightly. I made him nervous, and I delighted in that, even though it did nothing to ease my hunger pains.