The Hunger - Only Lovers Left Alive

Chapter Two

A pained groan drew my attention from my book and I looked up in time to see the figure on my bed roll over onto his back, his arm draping over his eyes as he moved.

Setting my book to one side, I stood from my seat and walked over to the best, sitting on the edge with my hands rested in my lap.

"You're finally awake," I speak softly, knowing how painful the first waking can be.

"I feel like shit," he croaked, not lifting his arm from his eyes.

"Yes, I can imagine you do," I sighed, regret pulling harshly as my stomach, "I must apologise for that."

"Why? Did you roofie me or something?"

He let out a raspy laugh, though it was completely humourless.

"No, I did something much worse."

Standing from my position I moved towards the table I had been sat at before, picking up a heavy glass decanter and removing its delicate lid. Setting it to one side, I then pick up a small glass and fill it half way before placing the decanter down with a soft thunk on the wooden table top.

"You'll need this," I murmur, stepping back over to the man taking up my bed."

"And what exactly is 'this'?" He asked, finally moving his arm to look at me.

I was momentarily taken by surprise at the blue of his eyes, they were this strange mixture of soft and intense set within a colour that could be many other colours in varying lights.

They stood out magnificently within his angular face, accompanying his dark hair and pale skin almost too perfectly.

Now that I was seeing him in a better light and with a clearer mind, there was no denying that he was one of the most beautiful men I had encountered in my many years.

My fingers fiddle with the ring on my left hand as I stare despite myself, the grasp my hand had on the glass unconsciously tightening a little.

He seemed to be staring back at me, though more in expectation of an answer to his question.

"Oh," I cleared my throat and settled back down on the edge of the seat, "just something to help you adjust a little better."

He weakly pushed himself to sit up, leaning his back against the wooden headboard of the bed as he eyed the glass in my hands though eyes that were squinted with discomfort.

"Adjust to what?" He asked cautiously.

"I shall explain it all," I smiled, trying to be soothing whilst holding the glass out to him, "but you must drink first."

I hold the glass out to him and he takes it, though all the while he continued to eye both me and the glass with complete suspicion.

He brought the glass closer to him and wrinkled his nose a little, grimacing down at the offering as if it was something of absolute distaste.

"This smells like blood," he commented, glancing towards me.

"It is blood."

"Why would you give me this?"

"Because you will be begging for it sooner rather than later."

"That almost sounds like a threat."

I let out a drawn out sigh whilst standing from the bed again, stepping back to the table and resting back in my original reading seat.

"Trust me," I begin, giving him a wry smile whilst picking my book back up, "it is more of a promise."