Part 11
KOTA:
We ended up helping Sang cook us an amazing taco soup. It was gone in minutes. Then, she and Luke baked strawberry shortcakes for dessert. We all appreciated the distraction, because Gabe had thought it’d be a good idea to dress her in skin tight gray yoga pants, to which she informed us she had nothing on beneath, and another tight top that hugs her curves--curves that seem larger than even this morning. I quickly tug on the collar of my shirt, suddenly warm again. It’s been this way for a while now.
We’re back to playing video games, sprawling over the couches, ottomans, and floor, but this time we’re not doing anything that we have to really pay attention to--just doing melee Super Smash Bros. One eye on the screen, one on Sang Sorenson.
Currently, Silas has commandeered the girl, holding her against his chest, teaching her how to say random things in Greek. He’s seriously pulling out all the stops with her, he knows girls think his accent is sexy.
A few hours ago, when Sang slept up in my bed--no, I wouldn’t be washing those sheets for a while--Mr Blackbourne and the Doc had told us everything. Then, it’d been discovered that we all had intentions to pursue Sang as more than friends. That led to another round of arguments, a lot of cursing, and even some fang flashing from Mr B, which was scary and unheard of--he never loses control.
Eventually, in the interest of keeping our team, and more importantly our family, intact, we’re seeing how things play out. We’ll see who she likes more. Gabe was all smirky and “May the best man win,” but North grumbled about Mr Blackbourne having the unfair advantage of his blood bond. We weren’t happy about that, and he had the good sense to at least act ashamed. He told us he would try to stay out of the way, but earlier it looked like Sang wasn’t a fan of that. She had sat next to him on the couch, staring up at him with those beautiful green eyes, clearer than my own, and we all had been immediately on edge. I was happy when he left, even though I love him like a brother. We all do.
Sang starts giggling and speaking Greek to North, saying what Silas whispers in her ear, and North actually blushes. North. Blushes.
“What are you telling her to say, Si?” I’m immediately curious.
“Nothing!” Silas and North say together, then grin at each other. They’re so alike, yet so different.
Note to self: Learn Greek.
“Come sit with me, Trouble,” Gabe holds out his arms and opens and closes his fists, like a toddler asking to be picked up.
Sang stands up, then is pulled backwards by Silas, “Nooooooo, aggelle, you can’t leave me!”
Sangs giggling has become one of my favorite sounds in the world. I’ve never seen her so light and carefree. She’s even more beautiful when she’s happy.
“Let her go, you beast!” Luke throws a pillow over and Silas quickly smacks it before it hits him or Sang.
“You could’ve hit her!” he bellows, using it as an excuse to pull her closer to him.
Sang laughs, letting him move her, “Good thing you were here to save me.”
“Damn right. Call me your hero. No--your big hero!” Silas always takes things too far.
Sure enough, North butts in, “Don’t call him anything, baby. He’s a jackass.”
Silas loosens his grip on Sang and she wriggles free, springing to Gabe, who happily encases her in his arms, “Okay, Trouble. We have an agenda to complete.”
“What?” Sang bites her lip, confused.
“Tomorrow we’re going to the mall. I can’t wait to get you a whole new wardrobe. I’ve been dressing these mooks for years, and they’re complete ingrates who don’t appreciate me at all. I can’t believe we have a girl now! It’s going to be amazing. But first, tonight, I’m gonna cut your hair!” Gabriel beams with excitement.
“What? No, I like her hair long,” Nate interjects.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful princess hair,” Victor smiles at Sang, who gives him a look of complete adoration.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and Vic blushes.
“Well this is sweet and all, but calm the fuck down. I’m just gonna give it shape. Add some layers,” Gabe takes Sang’s chin in his hand and nods her head up and down.
Good Lord, it’s going to be a long night. But with Sang here, that’s a blessing.
SANG:
The last two days have been amazing. I spent all of Friday evening and night with the guys at Kota’s, then all day Saturday with Gabriel, Luke, and Victor at the mall. I’d never been before--which they couldn’t believe. Victor paid for everything, all of Gabe’s crazy excessive purchases that he insisted I needed. I tried to tell him it was too much, but Victor just smiled, so I ended up just thanking him about a dozen times.
Nathan met up with us a little later, just in time for my first trip to Victoria’s Secret. I don’t think I’d blushed that much ever. I got about thirty pairs of panties, because I had to have them apparently, and ten bras. Plus an assortment of other clothing they had there. It was insane.
By the time we made it to the food court for lunch I was walking attached to Victor, trying to portray my thanks through contact. He didn’t mind that I walked so close while gripping his hand. He even intertwined his long fingers with mine.
The boys had all been much more friendly with me, each touching me whenever the opportunity came up. I didn’t mind. I never had friends before, and the guys all care about me. And I care about them.
Saturday evening we finally get back to Kota’s, but end up going to Nathan’s instead. Luke and Gabe load all of my clothes into Nathan’s closet, because I don’t have any room at my house. I don’t let myself think about how much trouble I’ll be in. I block my home life from my mind.
Nathan’s house is awesome--he has a pool. We swam until the others, minus Dr Sean and Mr Blackbourne, showed up from working. When I asked them what they did, they got all shifty, and it was weird.
“Um, well... Kota?” Luke deferred the answer to Kota, who seemed to be the leader among the high school aged boys.
Kota straightened the glasses on his nose, “We’re looking for someone.”
“That’s a job?” I asked, confused.
“It’s more like searching, I guess,” Gabe added.
“Hunting,” Nathan supplied, which got a look from Kota.
“Like bounty hunting? You’re hunting a person?” my mouth hung open.
“Not a person, baby. A fucking monster. Vamp piece of shit,” North’s voice was so harsh, and I broke a little.
Earlier at the mall, the guys has informed me that Mr Blackbourne and I weren’t the only two of our kind, that we were vampires, but not like the modern media kind, not really. They wouldn't tell me anything else after that.
At North’s words though, I had to leave, I didn’t want to cry in front of them again. I quickly swam to the edge of the pool, climbing out and running back to the house to get dressed and get away.
I’m not a person. I’m a monster--a vamp piece of shit. The words flew through my mind over and over, mixed with my mother’s mantras of hate.
I heard voices outside, super hearing and all. Silas was snapping in Greek, the others were yelling. Gabe finally shouted, “You better get in there and fix this, asshole. Christ! You’re so clueless sometimes!”
Then, there was a knock on the bathroom door. I hadn’t changed yet, but I didn’t want to seem weak either. So, boldly, I opened the door. North stood there with his head hanging, obviously ashamed.
“I’m so sorry, Sang. I talk before I think. A lot. You’re nothing like the others. You’re the furthest from a monster than I’ve ever met. Silas is right--you’re an angel. Please, we don’t think that about you. I don’t think that about you,” he wiped his hand over his face, “I’m so fucking sorry, baby!”
The expression on his face told me he was telling the truth, but I didn’t want to let him off the hook so easily. “So I’m not a vamp piece of shit?”
He cringed, looking away, “God, don’t hate me, baby.”
I couldn’t be cruel for any longer, so I stepped forward and wrapped my arms up around his neck, pulling him close. He tensed for a second before wrapping his arms around my waist. North and I just stood there like that for a long while, until I started becoming very aware that he was shirtless, having been getting ready to jump in the pool, of the pulse beneath his warm skin, the racing of his heart, the blood pumping through his veins. I pulled away quickly, turning around.
“Sang? What’s wrong?” North pulled me around by my shoulder. Then he looked...smug, of all things.
“Are you hungry?” his voice turned husky, eyeing my changed eyes and fangs.
I shrugged, and he smiled, “C’mon. Let me prove I don’t think you’re a monster,” his eyes glimmered wickedly.
When I giggled, he scooped me up and sat me down on the edge of the sink counter. Pressing between my legs, he leaned in close, “It’s okay, baby. Bite me.”
It’d been a day since I fed, and I was hungry. I didn’t hesitate, finding the top of his collarbone, in between his neck and shoulder, and bit down.
“Fuck…” North groaned at the contact, and gripped the edge of the counter on the outsides of my thighs.
Every draw of his blood, he groaned louder, pressing his hips into my open legs, letting me feel how pleased he was to be feeding me. His hands left the counter to grab my legs, wrapping them around his hips and so I crossed my ankles to keep him close. He liked this.
I pulled away after only a couple draws, not wanting to weaken him. After I licked his wounds to heal them, North pulled back a bit to look at me. His hand caressed my cheek, and then he leaned in to kiss the corner of my mouth.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I never thought of you like that; never will,” he whispered, then pulled me close to hold me again. I loved it.
That night, we all stayed at Nathan’s. I had no desire to go home, or think about it. But around noon on Sunday, I decided it was time.
When I announced I was leaving, I was met with cries of dismay, and concern. Would I be alright? Would I get in trouble? Should they come with me? They didn’t want me to leave. I loved feeling like I was cared for. I felt empowered.
I assured them I would be okay. I was done being my mother’s punching bag.
When I stepped through the door to the kitchen, sure enough, my mother was waiting for me.
“Where do you think you’ve been?” she hissed, spit flying.
“Out,” was all I replied.
At that, she stood, hand on her silver cross necklace, “Come, you little bitch. Time to atone for your sins.”
“No,” I held my chin high, “You’re not going to touch me. I won’t let you.”
She blanched, “What did you say?”
“Never. Again.” I enunciated for her.
“Well, well, look who thinks she’s grown,” her eyes glittered darkly, and then she held her hands up, backing up, “Very well. Have it your way.”
I knew it wasn’t over. She would never give up that easily. But for now? I have the world ahead of me.
Part 11.5
SANG:
Sunday night had been terrible. I had been too afraid to actually sleep--nervous my mother would seek her retaliation when I closed my eyes. Even without the fear, though, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. My stomach had been cramping up miserably. It felt like hunger pangs, which I knew all too well, but there was no excuse for them. I had been more well-fed than ever in my life. I didn’t get it. Ever since almost a week ago, with my first taste of non-animal blood in Mr Blackbourne, I had been increasingly getting hungrier and hungrier all week. It was almost as if I was becoming insatiable. Nothing truly satisfied. What was happening to me?
Finally, I watched as my tiny, plastic digital alarm clock turned from 6:29 to 6:30, and smacked it before it could finish it’s first blaring beep. It’s time to get up. I take a quick shower--I only get five minutes--and then dress when I’m back in my tiny room. Today I wear the cute, pink flippy sundress that Gabe insisted I get yesterday. It’s a little shorter than my normal skirts, but I think it looks good. I slip on some new sandals, frenchbraid my towel-dried hair, and I’m good to go. I don’t wear any makeup (don’t own any) and I don’t have perfume or anything. I’m done by 6:50, and the bus normally comes from 7-7:10, depending on its earlier stops.
I enter the kitchen, which is now the Twilight Zone. Marie is seated at her spot, so is my mother, and they’re eating breakfast, which is normal. What’s not normal? At the spot next to Marie, there’s an opened mason jar of blood, for me. It’s steaming, too, which means that it’s heated up.
“Good morning,” my mother says, looking my way. I actually look behind me, thinking maybe my father’s still here or something. She’s talking to me.
“M-morning,” I stutter, majorly shocked.
“Well?” Marie narrows her eyes at me, “Breakfast.” She gestures to the blood beside her, grimacing at it.
I sit down slowly, waiting for something to happen. When I’m fully in the chair, I hesitate again, sure that the ceiling will come falling down on me. It doesn’t. So I pick up the blood. It’s warmed perfectly, and I’m so hungry! I take a slow first sip. Nothing tastes amiss. It’s still the same ol’ blood I’ve been drinking my whole life. Bitter and unsatisfactory. I want one of the guys’ to feed from. I really want Mr Blackbourne, but that’ll never happen.
“Bottom’s up!” My mother smiles at me, and I choke, coughing, before complying and tipping the glass, chugging the miserable pig’s blood.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
I stand to rinse out the jar, but my mother pushes back out of her seat, standing abruptly. She strides over to me, and I cower away from her. She holds out a hand and I cringe, “Here. I’ll take it. Go on to the bus stop.”
I stand slowly as she rinses and washes the jar. Twilight Zone is for real. Did I fall asleep after all? Is this some twisted reality?
A few minutes later I’m standing at the bus stop. I wave as I watch Nathan coming up the street from the trail to his house, and then again at Kota as he closes the door to his house.
Kota reaches me first and he looks anxious, so I reach up and hug him. He stiffens at first and then wraps his arms around shoulders, relaxing into my hug.
“Are you okay? We’ve been up all night worrying about you,” he murmurs against my hair.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, I don’t have any of your phone numbers. Or a phone, actually,” I pull away slightly but remain gripping his sides with my hands; he still holds my shoulders, “I was fine, actually. I stood up to my mother, and she’s being...nice.”
Nathan pops up beside us and then ducks under our arms, breaking Kota and me apart. He grabs me around the waist and lifts me off the ground, spinning me around. I throw my head back and laugh, and when he finally stops he stares down at me with a gigantic smile on his face.
“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Nathan releases me to look me up and down obviously approving of my dress, “Is that one of your new purchases?”
When I nod, Nate snorts, and Kota says, “Gotta give Gabe a bonus.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, suddenly shy.
Nathan grabs me again and pulls me into him, “It means you look good, peanut.”
Peanut? I like that the guys have their little names for me. I smile, “Thank you.”
Kota clears his throat, and Nathan lets me go. Interesting…
“I really don’t want to take the bus again. It’s so crowded! Do you think you’ll get in trouble if you ride in my car, Sang?” Kota asks me, pushing his glasses up his nose.
I think about how I told my mother I was doing what I wanted from now on, “No. Let’s go!”
Nathan grabs my hand and tows me across the street to Kota’s driveway, and Kota sighs loudly, “Fine, I guess you can come too, Nate.”
Nathan mimes being stabbed in the heart, “We’re best friends, man. That’s harsh!”
I giggle and Kota tugs my braid before moving to the driver side. I slip into the backseat, and Kota calls Nate a chump for making me sit in the back, to which I defend by saying his legs are longer than mine.
When we get to school, we’re way earlier than usual because we didn’t have to wait for the other bus stops. When we get to our normal meeting spot, I’m surprised that Luke and North are already here.
Luke jumps up from his perch atop a concrete bench, “Sang! Kota texted us that you’re okay! How are you?” He pulls me into a hug, backing us up to the bench, sitting down and pulling me on top of him.
“I’m fine, except you’re kind of cutting off my oxygen,” I giggle as he squeezes me.
“Dammit, Luke!” North reaches over and scoops me off Luke, placing me in between them. He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, “Hi, baby.”
I blush, “Hi, North.”
“Oh, hell no! Why is she sitting on that dirty bench? Do you apes have no respect for anything?!” I break away from North’s dark gaze to watch as Gabe, Silas, and Victor approach. Gabe’s hands are on his hips, “Trouble, you better stand up and not have any stains on that new dress.”
“She wasn’t on the bench, but the caveman wouldn’t let me have her,” Luke crosses his arms over his chest, throwing his brother under the bus.
“Kota!” Gabe turned on Kota, “How could you let this happen?”
I stand up, smoothing my dress down, suddenly nervous, “Sorry. It’s not anyone’s fault. Please don’t be mad.”
I look down, until I’m being scooped up by giant arms--Silas, “Don’t listen to that tyrant, aggelle. Listen to me, your big hero! You look beautiful.”
He buries his face in my neck and blows a raspberry against my skin, causing me to get lost in a fit of giggles. “Eeeeeee, stop!”
Silas finally puts me down, and I wipe my eyes from laughing so much. The guys are all watching, smiling widely themselves, even North.
“I have a present for you, princess,” Victor steps in front of me.
“Victor! You’ve already done too much,” I put a finger to my lip.
Victor raises one eyebrow, and I sigh, “Thank you, Victor.”
“Good girl,” he chuckles, handing me a paper bag.
“Did you wrap it yourself?” I joke, and he looks surprised, laughing, and everyone else laughs too.
Inside the bag is a fancy cell phone in a pink case. I press a circle button and it lights up, showing a background picture of Silas and Gabe making a funny face--their cheeks blown out like puffer fish. I erupt in giggles again and Victor looks at the phone, “I told you guys to input phone numbers when I drove, not mess around!”
Gabe and Silas just reply by making the same face, making me laugh harder. “Phone numbers?” I ask, remembering what Victor just said.
Victor gives me a quick overview on how to use the phone, and I send a text message to the group “A” so everyone can have my number: THIS IS SANG ON MY NEW PHONE. PINK RULEZ!
The guys each pull out their phones when they buzz, signaling a text, and they smile as they see my message. The first bell rings, and I exchange goodbyes with the group, walking with Luke and North to our first class. As I take my seat, my phone starts buzzing, and I have four more minutes to check it before the teacher makes us put them away. My contacts were already loaded for me, so I know who texts back.
Gabe: YOUR PINK DRESS RULEZ. YOU’RE WELCOME.
Nate: RED > PINK :P
Kota: I’M GLAD YOU LIKE IT! NO MATTER WHO SAYS WHAT, IT WAS MY IDEA.
Silas: :8) THOSE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE CHUBBY CHEEKS. NEVER CHANGE YOUR BACKGROUND!!
Green: OH HO! WELCOME TO TECHNOLOGY, MISS SANG! GLAD TO HEAR YOU’RE OKAY! SEE YOU IN CLASS. XOXO.
Victor: DON’T LISTEN TO KOTA. I PICKED THE CASE.
Luke: I LIKE YOUR BRAID.
I smile at him, and he tugs my braid to enunciate his text. My phone buzzes again.
North: NO TEXTING IN CLASS.
I look up at him sheepishly, but he just grins back, showing me he’s joking. Our teacher walks to his podium, and everyone starts to get into classroom mode. I’m putting away my phone when it buzzes.
Blackbourne: OKAY.
Okay? Okay?! That’s all he gives me? That’s it. It’s certainly NOT okay! I’m going to take my newfound confidence and confront him. We’re going to have to see a lot more of each other, now that I have class with him, and I don’t want to never know what to expect from him.
Screw the violin lessons. During class today, I’m going to be the one teaching him--I’m not someone he can just toy with. I’m a person and I have feelings, feelings that he’s hurting. Not anymore. My stomach churns just thinking about it, and suddenly, I’m miserable and hungry again.
Part 11.75
OWEN:
Okay? I’m a fucking idiot. I didn’t know what else to reply. Sure, I could’ve sent a separate text outside of the group message, but I told the team that I would back off Sang so they could get to know her and her them.
But I didn’t promise them I’d do it. I made sure to word it very carefully, not getting too in depth, and changing the subject quickly. The way the boys eyed me when she just sat next to me on Friday night, like they expected me to start ripping off her clothes any second… Had I thought about it? Yes. Would I have done it? No, I’m not an animal. Did they really think that low of me?
I move the chairs out of the way of the large mirror on one wall of the music room. It’s only covering a part of the wall, like the school got too cheap to fill the entire wall, but it will work for violin positioning for our lesson.
Our lesson. Sang and me. The only two in this room. For forty-five minutes. I shudder. I don’t know how this is going to pan out, but I have about a minute until the bell rings, probably three or four until she’s here.
I take the glasses out of my breast pocket and put them back on. I don’t need them, but Sean thinks they make me seem more vulnerable; approachable. They give me the appearance of having a weakness. Whatever. If they make me seem a little more human, I’ll take it.
The bell rings, and my mouth goes dry. I haven’t been nervous in years, not since I killed my vampire father, too late to save my mother… Nope--not drudging those memories up.
Now is time to get my game face on. She’s coming. I can sense her like I have a GPS tracker on her attached to my brain. Because she’s mine.
SANG:
North walks me to the music room, and I’m so nervous I could scream. I grab North’s hand, clutching it tight, and he stops, pulling me to the side of the hall.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes are dark and scary, like he’s ready to hurt anything that’s bothering me.
I shake my head, “I’m just nervous for my class. It’s fine. I’m fine,” I say it to assure him and myself.
He scowls and his eyebrows furrow, “Are you afraid of Mr Blackbourne?” North’s hand squeezes mine.
How do I explain this? “No, I’m not scared. I’m just...nervous. He’s kind of intimidating.”
North chuckles, “Yeah, he’s a little overwhelming, but he’s one of the good guys. He can be intense, and believe me, I know intense.”
I giggle at that, “Yes, you do. Okay. I can do this.” I take a deep breath, and North walks us to the classroom, still holding my hand.
The door opens before either of us touch it, and there he is, in all his stern glory: Mr Blackbourne. I want to swoon and slap him--all at the same time. This can’t be healthy!
“Mr Taylor. Miss Sorenson,” he nods at us in greeting, glancing down at our attached hands. His eyes narrow infinitesimally; so little that I may imagine it.
North hugs me and then playfully pushes me into the room, “Have fun!” I don’t know if I like this non-broody North. Okay, that’s I lie. I like him a lot.
After I step into the room, Mr Blackbourne closes the door behind me, followed by what sounds like a lock sliding into place.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, mouth dry. The classroom is empty. Even the chairs are pushed to the side.
Mr Blackbourne doesn’t answer, so I turn around to see what he’s preoccupied with. Nothing. He’s just looking at me, at all of me, and I suddenly can’t breathe. His eyes slide slow as dripping honey. From my sandals, up my bare legs, to my hips, waist, chest, bare collarbone, throat, and then my eyes. Gulp.
“Hmm?” he asks.
“Where is everyone?” I repeat, and I’m thankful my voice doesn’t crack.
Mr Blackbourne steps forward and I step back, an awkward dance. He gives a tiny little smirk, “It’s just you and me.”
Just him and me. Just him and me! I take another step back and he tracks my movement like a predator, head cocking to the side, eyes narrowed on my body.
No--I told myself I’m standing up to him, and I’m going to do just that!
“Why do you wear glasses?” Okay, Sang, that is not standing up to him! Get it together!
He blinks, then takes them off, staring down at them, “Appearances.”
Vague. Is that all he does? Vague and crazy? Okay, vague and crazy and sexy?
“What’s your problem?” I ask, and then grimace. That is standing up to him. A little late, but it’s here.
Mr Blackbourne’s head jerks up to meet my gaze. He puts the glasses in his breast pocket, and I wish he had left them on, because now there’s nothing between me and his intense metallic gaze.
“My problem, Miss Sorenson?” I swear he’s amused. If he has emotions, I think he’s enticed by my boldness.
“Example A: You won’t call me Sang--what’s with that? Example B: You’re sweet one moment and then cold the next. I mean, you heal me and let me, um, feed from you, then kick me out of your office. You hold me, then don’t even think to say goodbye to me. I don’t understand! Example C: You only answer my questions in the most obscure ways!” I say all of that extremely fast, and when I finally stop to gasp in a breath, Mr Blackbourne is actually smiling. Well, okay, the right side of his mouth moves up a millimeter.
“Noted,” Mr Blackbourne says and then turns to the desk.
“That’s it?” I cringe when my voice comes out a little high pitched. He’s driving me insane.
“What would you like me to say, Miss Sorenson?”
Oh my God. Oh my GOD! I throw my hands up and let out an annoyed “uggggghhh!” which makes him cover his mouth, to hide a smile, because God forbid he show any emotions.
“I want you to say something that tells me I’m not just anyone to you, that I mean something, that I matter!” I’m surprised that that comes out of my mouth, it’s basically word vomit--I couldn’t hold it back, but it’s the stone cold truth.
Mr Blackbourne’s smile disappears and for a second it looks like despair crosses his face, before he goes back to blank, “I never wanted you to feel that way. I… I don’t think you’re just anyone. You matter. You matter to me. I’m...I’m sorry.”
Before I can blink he’s right in front of me, not even an inch away. Then he’s pulling me into him, one hand on my head, holding my cheek to his chest, and the other on the small of my back, pressing me in tight.
And I’d like to say that I stick to my guns and punish him for toying with my emotions, but I don’t. I melt like a snowman in the sun, literally collapsing against him. My arms wrap around his waist, and I sigh, breathing in his scent--spring soap and the outdoors after rain.
After a deep breath, I whimper, my stomach clenching in on itself. It’s excruciating, and I have no idea what’s causing it. Mr Blackbourne pulls back, concern on his face, but I force a smile. I’ve been getting increasingly sick for a couple days now. I won’t let him think I’m weak, not when I was just so strong finally.
I pull away from him, “Okay. So, the violin…”
He eyes me suspiciously, and I know that he knows I’m evading. Well, it’s a taste of his own medicine then.
Mr Blackbourne goes to the desk, opening up a black case and pulling out a beautiful instrument, “This is mine, but you’ll have to get your own if you’re serious about the art.”
The next twenty minutes consist of me standing in front of the weirdly sized bigger-than-full-body mirror on the far wall. Mr Blackbourne stands behind me, intimidating me, as I try to consistently get the violin to stay upright without hands; just my chin. It’s very hard, but apparently super important to playing. I haven’t even been allowed to touch the bow.
Finally, Mr Blackbourne nods, satisfied with my chin skills, then picks up the bow, handing it to me. He touches me then, adjusting my hold and my wrist, then lifting up my arm, back to my wrist again, correcting my bend, then back to my arm, and so on, and after a minute I’m covered in goosebumps and not even paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth.
His scent has seemed to intensify, and I’m swimming in it. I don’t even register that I’m leaning back against him, back to front. I don’t register that my eyes are closed, until I open them. He’s gone board-straight; still. I stare at him through the mirror, our eyes locked.
Mr Blackbourne takes the violin and bow from me, gently placing them in the case, locking it, somehow keeping bodily contact with me. Then his hands are on me again, sliding from my fingertips to my wrists, up my forearms, to my shoulders, leaving fire in their wake.
I can feel his chest moving rapidly at my back, his breathing has picked up. His head falls to the crook of my neck and he breathes deeply before kissing my neck, my collarbone, and moves away the strap of my sundress to kiss my shoulder. I gasp in surprise at the sensations.
When Mr Blackbourne’s head lifts and he meets my eyes through the mirror again, I’m lost to anything that isn’t him. His pupils are huge and his irises crimson. His mouth parts and his long fangs show, and I moan softly.
“Miss Sorenson…” he murmurs, to which I admonish, “Sang.”
“Sang,” he says, his lips curling up.
I grin back, “Mr Blackbourne.”
“Owen.”
I reach backward and up to stroke his face with my hand, “Owen,” I say softly.
He groans, and then before I can process it, his head is at my neck, his fangs closing into the soft flesh of my throat.
“Oh!” I cry out, but not from pain. The air thickens around us, his scent everywhere. His eyes remain on mine in the mirror, watching me as he draws my blood. It’s so strange to watch, strange and erotic.
Mr Blackbourne’s--Owen’s--arms tighten around me, and start to move. I’m moaning loudly, uncontrollably, as I begin to feel parts of my body that have never made so much as a peep. When his hands close over my breasts, I start to tremble, but not from fear. He groans into my neck, taking one final pull before spinning me around.
My body feels like it’s being hooked up to a car battery, with tiny little shocks traveling from my head to my toes. Something is happening, something intense, but all I can think about is the man standing not an inch from me.
I jump him--literally--climbing him like a jungle gym, desperate to get to his neck. The pain in my stomach has suddenly come back full force, but this time it comes with a manual. It’s like somewhere deep inside of me I know the only relief I’ll ever get comes from Owen. My Owen.
With a feral growl, I wrap my legs around his hips, clutching his shoulders in a firm grip, and chomp into his neck. Owen answers my call with a growl of his own, his hands clutching at me--not pushing me away, but pulling me closer.
The first drink of his blood feels like an oasis to a man stranded in the desert. This. This is what I’ve been needing. I moan and moan, drinking him in, writhing against his body like a girl possessed.
I don’t realize we’ve moved until I’m being pushed down on the desk, the violin case sliding to the floor with a clang. Owen’s hands are on my thighs, traveling higher, pushing my sundress up over my hips, exposing my new lacy white panties, not that he can see them. But he can feel them--and he does.
I purr against his neck as I continue to drink, his hips moving against me, pushing hard into my soft. He moves me and twists me, careful not to disconnect my mouth from his throat, and I feel him sliding down my panties. I moan again, lost in the electricity coursing through my body. Does he feel it too?
I finally pull away, and I feel a trickle of blood slide down my chin, “Owen,” I breathe, staring at him as he pushes himself between my legs again, this time less between us.
He stares at my mouth, watching hypnotized as the blood falls. His gaze flicks back up to my eyes, and I smile lazily at him. He gives me a tiny grin back, then closes the space between us, licking up the blood before pressing his lips to mine. Our mouths open together and he pushes into my mouth, tasting me, tasting himself on me. He tastes like blood, and it just works me more into a frenzy.
I pull at his clothes before sliding my hands into the back of his pants, clutching him closer, forcing him into that needy spot between my legs. Owen doesn’t seem to mind though, because he’s reaching down, undoing his belt, pulling it off, and I’m panting, desperate.
He leans down to invade my mouth again, not hesitating this time to massage my tongue with his. Then he’s pulling back again, this time working with his pants’ button and fly. I dig my nails into his shoulders in anticipation. It’s like my brain’s turned off, and all that’s working are the needs my body has.
Owen unzips his pants, and then there’s a loud ringing sound--a bell? The school bell--class is over.
Our gazes meet, and I watch as the red drains from his eyes. It’s like a bucket of ice has been dumped over us, and he staggers backward, turning quickly to put his pants back together.
I hop off the desk, then have to turn and grab onto it to steady my jelly legs. I can’t seem to catch my breath. What just happened?
I jump as I feel hands on my shoulder, putting my strap back in its place, then pulling on my skirt to straighten it--taking care of me. I’m trembling, my body still sending little aftershocks of electricity through my veins. Taking a deep breath, I face him. Owen’s put back together completely, like nothing even happened.
I quickly glance away from him--mistake. Now I’m looking at the mirror. Holy crap. I look like I’ve just been through a wind tunnel. My braid is halfway undone, hairs randomly spurting out of the braid itself, which looks like a squirrel nest. My lips are red and swollen, my cheeks flushed. Not to mention my very wrinkled dress.
I quickly pull my hair out of the braid completely, running my fingers through it as a makeshift comb. I fan my face to no avail. My dress doesn’t smooth magically under my hands either.
I turn back to Owen, nervous and panicky, “Um…”
“You look beautiful,” he says softly, and I calm down a bit, smiling shyly.
“I, um. I…” I can’t form a sentence, apparently.
Owen cups my cheek with his palm, and I let out a sigh at the contact, instantly feeling better when we’re skin to skin, which is strange, right?
“It’s okay, Sang,” Sang! He’s still calling me Sang! “I had no idea that was going to happen. I should have been on guard more, ready to control it.”
Control it? What was it? “I… I don’t understand,” I’m still having trouble forming words. C’mon, get it together!
I jump when I hear the doorknob to the room jiggle. The door doesn’t open--it’s locked--so there’s a knock. Then, “Sang? Mr Blackbourne? Are you still in there? It’s time for lunch!”
Owen pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, then shouts over his shoulder, “One moment, Mr Morgan.”
He turns back to me, “Look, Sang, we need to talk. I should’ve come to you before, but I was being foolish. Can I come to you this evening?”
I nod, slowly processing his words. I would never put Mr Blackbourne in the same sentence as the word ‘foolish.’ “I’ll be at Nathan’s. We’re swimming,” I say lamely.
Owen nods, searching my face, “Are you okay?”
I jump again as there’s more knocking on the door, “What’s going on in there? I don’t hear violins!” a voice yells.
Owen rolls his eyes and I smile at the mundane motion on his perfect face, “Coming, Mr Coleman.”
With my enhanced hearing I hear a mutter of, “You better not be coming…” and I blush furiously. I know Owen heard it too, because he wipes his face with his hand.
He goes to the desk and bends to pick up the discarded violin case, and then bends again, handing me a tiny scrap of fabric. I want to die. My little white panties…
I quickly grab them and turn, stepping into them. Oh my God! How am I going to be able to face everyone?
I sense him behind me even though he doesn’t make a sound. It’s strange, the closer he is to me, the more the electricity flows through my blood.
“Sang,” his voice is soft, and I feel compelled to face him.
“Owen,” I reply, and shock myself by running my finger over his lips. He smiles, then kisses my fingertip.
“Are you okay?” he asks again, full of concern.
Am I? So much just happened between us… But this time it’s different. He said that I matter to him. He didn’t abandon me afterward. He’s calling me Sang.
“I’m good,” I smile back.
“So help me, if you don’t open this door in the next five seconds I’m calling Luke middle-name Lockpick!” Gabe shouts through the door again.
Owen gestures to me and then the door, indicating I should lead, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and putting them on, “Miss Sorenson,” he says, and when my face falls in dismay, he winks.
Ah--that’s right, he said appearances earlier when I asked him why he wore those glasses. I get it now.
I nod at him, “Mr Blackbourne,” then I turn from him and go to the door, even though the electricity fades with each step and my body begs me to return to him to get it back.
I open the door, “Fucking hell. What did you do to your hair!?”