.

3

Starvation

They said no.

She didn't expect this.

"Don't let her kill you," V wrapped his gray scarf around her neck. When had it gotten so cold?

"She's not who I'm worried about," Andreas even handed over his gloves. "I'll try to give you time but no guarantees. It's nearly dark now. I can handle my girl but Peter, that boy has it bad for you. There'll be no stopping him," she slipped her fingers through the leather. "I'll stall them and won't say where you actually are. But they'll find out eventually darling so be weary of those consequences. When I pick Des back up, you'll have even less time," she nodded as he grabbed her arm. "Look, I don't know your history with this guy, hell I don't even know you that well-"

"It's okay, I have to do this myself."

He closed the car door and rolled the window down. "She's going to chastise me for all eternity."

V smiled, shaking her head. "Just go already. I'll see you soon."

He took one last look at her, somewhat unsure, but drove away nonetheless.

She was alone now. The house was just around the corner, behind all those trees. The lights were on and would lead the way. The sun's going down fast. It must not even be six, seven? It's January though, the earlier it gets, the darker it is in season. Stop, start walking. She did, nearly tripping over a pine cone. When Andreas parked in front of that diner and Destiny was the first to get out and he sped off just as V was about to follow, she thought he was kidnapping her. He was right, they didn't know each other. But for him to do this, for her? It made V appreciate his affair with Destiny even more. They were good together and V liked him right away. They could be friends. Despite the danger he's going to face because of her. And now, a stick. This might not be the best time, she's not exactly capable. A close redwood caught her fall. When will she get the chance though? Especially after this little stunt, Peter will keep her closer than usual. Even if that gives her chills, just not for this reason.

Before she realized, she stood on the front patio. Leaves and dirt were probably dangling from her hair but the tinted glass gave no reflection.

Knock. Ring the bell. You wanted to do this.

But she couldn't will herself.

If he answers the door, sees her, has her within actual reach, she might not be able to handle him. He deserves to know though. The knob turned, it's unlocked.

Don't, call Andreas, go home to Peter.

There was as much hope the moment V decided to cross Hemlock's border once more. When she heard the scream, the curdling nature of it, all was forgotten. She stumbled through the door, stifled to a halt and feigned in the glistening cataract of blood. There Roman held a young girl against him, her neck exposed and torn. Bits of skin dangled from his mouth while he bathed as though under a glorious sanctum of wine. Her mouth gorged open, no scream came. The only sound was that of warm liquid pouring from her to him as winged nectar.

V couldn't stop it.

She screamed but cried out his name instead. Roman jerked to a vicious tilt. His hollow gaze flashed alive in a savage break, as a beast would snap when interrupted from its feeding. He took her in, his grip on the girl faltering. She dropped. His trust in its certainty fazed. She landed heavy on the hard floor, limp. He stood there staring, coated in famine.

Seven months. The last he saw her, she was near death, in his arms. But the severity of it all couldn't stand for what he must have gone through after. When Peter lifted her from him as both were close to fading. When he could do nothing as they left him there, alone. He stepped over the girl's form and drifted to her in that way, V froze. He snatched her up into his body. She braced herself, he squeezed her shoulders with a powerful strain. The garish fluids masked over his contingent denial and brought out the monstrosity in sheer.

He was just there, feeding on the girl's throat, decapitating her with his teeth. She's dying. He's digesting her. "No," V could barely hear him. "Real. You're not-" He yielded her again. This time, faltering her knees, lowering them both to the ground and hovering in an obscene sever. He moved on top her, mumbling without coherency.

V did nothing. Her parts refused to perform any and all movement against. Her mind had little to offer. Her lips were sealed in dry rifts. She could only watch him as he studied her. As he quieted, peering down at her, she could see he wasn't there. But V's senses came together all at once in a fixed ruin.

She gasped sharply. He has her. His hand had delved into her jeans, through her underwear, between her folds, his cold finger roughly penetrated. He gathered her slick heat around and along as though it were frosting above liquid batter. The refusal to interrupt kept her from flinching within notice. Neither would she register the ministrations entirely for he pulled out just as fast and placed the coated digit in his mouth. He tongued it thoroughly until the taste was certain. Roman had digressed her beyond intentions. She watched him, muted from disruption, but as his chest suddenly heaved in a broad snap, nearly did she lose her silence. Ceasing anything further, he crawled off her and dragged himself away. She couldn't see where until lifting her frigid neck up, the rest of her languid form slowly rising to find him beneath the stairs. Rather, a dark creature writhing in its inertial state after such devour.

The softest gurgling flaw vibrated horrifically in reminder. V's elbow cracked painfully as she erected herself further. Caked blonde locks came into sight as her vision blurred slightly in vertigo. There the girl still spread in her puddled remains. And there it came. V didn't think. Her hands and knees slid frantically across the slippery wood as her body re-acquainted itself with movement. Nearly did she fall into the girl but settled before, her legs now covered.

Fizzling blood chortled above her mouth. A death rattle. V held out her hands next to the girl's head and neck but couldn't bring herself to move closer or even console. But she knew, her pulse was weakening. They caught each other's gaze. Before V could try again, she was being pulled away and lifted from the ground. Roman tightened his grip on her so powerful that she cried out. And at such time, the girl also cried in sync. Neither were known but the devastation and reality of it seemed to tear V to pieces. She even reached for her as Roman ascended the stairs. But he jerked her back in place and quickly entered the master room.

Kicking the door shut with an apparent slam, V flinched and cried again, in surprise, as he threw her on the bed right before turning on his heel towards the bathroom. She instinctively reached for him as he suddenly collapsed several times before making it inside the door and closing it firm.

He's not here. The Roman she knew was far from her and he may not return in time. This is how it happens. She knew he would lose it but to come to him, during that. As he was feeding on an innocent girl as youthful as she, he killed her. V watched the finality of her life as his teeth bore into its slaughter. And now, he's discarded her down there while carrying another to his chambers. Does he know it's her? She could still feel her wet folds parting in pang against his invasion. It still burned. Never had she felt anything like that before. Nothing as immediate and violent. But she hasn't let that in. It would be too much. She needed to stay calm.

Roman fell into the sink, gripping the counter in brace. He leaned heavily into it. The mirror lied. That wasn't him staring back. He blinked hard. His reflection revealed the truth. It was the hunger. He couldn't keep it contained. Miranda was convenient and the famine keeled over in throbbing need. He looked again. But a nauseating void griped his skull. A sudden vision rooted him immobile. Flashes of the church appeared, of the vargulf standing over V, clawing at her chest, deeper and deeper. It wanted her to suffer, purposefully tormenting as a personal kill. The girl, Christina, meant its brutality with hatred. Roman heard himself scream for her. He was losing her, she was dying. Another flash came of Shelly lifting the white wolf off V, of her saving them, of Roman cradling V's mauled form as his sister vanished. Then Peter, reborn with the strength to claim, carrying V away from him. The vision ended. That day had haunted him each night, overtook every free thought. She was dead. He peered back from the mirror and quickly punched the faucet on. After splashing his face and swiping away the blood, he opened the bathroom door and waded against the arch. There she was, exactly where he left her. This was happening.

And as he moved closer, the thought of killing Miranda was forgotten, nothing else concerned him.

"V?" he breathed, stepping in side to the bed.

She kept his stare, faltering though as his intensified. She meant to confirm his sanity, that she was truly here with him. But she could only nod and say nothing. His very presence seemed to dominate reason. And as he reached for her the way he used to, she remembered and her mouth finally obeyed.

"We left you."

"He took you," the youthful break in his voice overtook his rage.

"I stayed with him," was she trying to take the blame? She couldn't have made the choice then and was dead to him after as Peter had her. What was she trying to say? V closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't say or do what was needed.

He lifted her chin to him, with the same finger that dug inside her earlier. The scent of her eluded them both. He was going to say it. The pale green of his sharp gaze bore harder than she could handle. He'll make it worst. She's here, as close as he could have ever wanted. They watched each other, he kept her on him. Then he spoke. "When you were in my arms," he swallowed. This would take more. "I felt you leaving me, before Peter came for you, it was happening. There was going to be nothing left. I knew if you were taken- It could have me- This thing I've-" He grabbed her. "You took me with you that day. You ended me and- All that was left is what I've become."

.

.

.

Given but lengthy waits. Worth it?