Author's Note: So, a long time ago a certain reader wondered if I would ever consider writing something for Bitten, and at the time I wasn't sure. I've been watching it recently, however, and this little something latched on and refused to shut up. And, here we are. Yet another beginning to a story that I'm praying the muse sticks around to help me continue in a timely manner, lol. In the meantime, this might just be interesting!
Pairing: Nick Sorrentino/OC, Clayton Danvers/OC, Possible Nick/OC/Clayton
Face Claim: Holland Roden, Isadora
Rating: Fiction M/Mature- for language, adult themes/situations, fighting/violence/mild gore/blood, possible character death, supernatural events/creatures, some graphic material/content, emotional/physical trauma, smuts, etc.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing Bitten related. Which is lame. Le sigh.
"It's a funny thing, coming home. You realize what's changed, is you."
Her phone, it was ringing...again.
She groaned lowly in her throat from where she had buried her face in the pillows, mere seconds after throwing herself across the mattress. Her hands came up, fingers pressing to her temples as she curled onto her side, the throb of a migraine lurking at the edge of consciousness. Her eyes squeezed closed and her lip stung as she bit down into it, ignoring the buzzing sound as the phone vibrated near her. It was the seventh call in a single day, from a number that she hadn't bothered answering in a little over a year. It would only bring more pain, she had told herself, opting to choose self-preservation instead in the form of ignoring the name that flashed across the screen. Slowly, the calls had stopped ringing in, leaving only the sporadic check-in's from another number that, despite the desire to do so, she could not ignore.
Seven attempts at contact in less than fifteen hours.
It did not bode well, she thought.
With that knowledge, the ominous feeling that had been hovering about her for the better part of two weeks only grew stronger. She had brushed it off as nerves, she always got a bit restless as the air turned cooler and the autumn approached. There was a yearning within her, embedded deep within her soul, aching to split free from her body and follow the path of a fresh, crisp breeze. The thought brought a sharp ripple of pain that left her physically cringing, the sting of emotion pricking at her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she breathed out in relief as the intrusive buzz of her phone cut off, leaving her to a peaceful silence that reverberated in her ears.
Until it began...again.
Letting out a scream of frustration, she lunged for the the thing, her legs flailing about on the previously made bed, tangling between them as she kicked out. She snatched it from the bedside dresser, her finger mashing into the screen front repeatedly, no doubt nearly cracking the screen in her haste. It was an impulsive move, one that she was left regretting as she stared down at the offending device, clearly depicting a connected call. Her blood thrummed rapidly in her ears, the beat of her heart loud enough that she could hear it thumping within her chest. She didn't dare to breathe, hoping in childish vain that if she remained silent, it would be as if it never happened.
But when had he ever let her slip through his fingers so easily?
"I know you're there, darlin'."
She nearly choked on the oxygen she didn't have, her lungs spasming where they lay caged within her ribs. His voice was deeper than she remembered, if that was even possible, and it rumbled through his chest in a way that made her shiver. It reminded her of a gruff, yet silken purr, leaving her with closed eyes and quickened breath. Not to mention other reactions that she refused to acknowledge. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, nearly leaving her gasping for air, her fingers curled so tightly around the phone that they paled as the blood rushed through her veins.
"Breathe now, easy girl."
A sound that resembled a growl worked its way up her dry throat, through the lump that made it hard to swallow, and he chuckled lowly in response. Her cheeks flared with heat, the likes of which she could almost feel without touching, and a mixture of embarrassment and anger swirled in her veins. Who did he think he was, calling and telling her how to perform basic bodily functions? She could breathe just fine on her own, even if she wasn't doing such a fabulous job at that moment.
"What," She bit out, her voice dripping with venom. "Do you want?"
He sighed deeply, hesitant as he spoke again. "We need to talk."
The laugher that spilled from her lips was anything but humorous and light. It was bitter sound, laced with pain and fury, the likes of which left him shuddering on the other side of the line, even with however many miles lay between them. It wasn't anything like the laughter he knew, the kind that haunted his dreams at night when he dared to allow himself the thought of her.
"Darlin' please, just-" He breathed harshly through his nose, she could hear it. "Something is going on, you need-"
"I don't need to do a damn thing," She hissed, fingers twitching toward the red circle that beckoned her to disconnect.
He snarled then, the sound animalistic and dangerous. "Don't you fucking hang up on-"
The silence that followed doused her in the glee that came with petty victory. Her eyes were wide, staring down at the dark screen as if it might come to life and bite her. At some point, a giggle escaped her lips. She had never hung up on him before. Ever. She laughed, long and loud, even as her hands trembled in her lap and a sense of unease enveloped her body where she sat, cross-legged on the bedspread.
Her phone buzzed again, this time a single sound as a message reflected back at her, cutting off her teary giggles as she choked.
"It's time to come home."