Elizabeth blinked, taking a somewhat shuddering, labored breath as wakefulness slowly washed over her.
She felt strange, confused and sluggish as she tried to fight off the lingering feelings of tiredness.
It was hard work, trying not to succumb to the feeling of exhaustion but she knew that it was raining. That was one of the first things she realized. It couldn't be ignored, there was a light and comforting patter of soft raindrops hitting the window yet, as she fully took it in, she could only grimace at the sound.
It should have been comforting, it should have been a pleasant and musical sound to wake up to, she could recognize that even in her state of exhaustion but in that moment, it wasn't.
It was as if she could hear each and every drop, each and every splat of water as it landed on the thin glass of her window. It pounded in her head, a head that felt far too heavy and far too thick, too cloudy, too, too...wrong.
She just felt wrong. Her whole body did.
She was starting to wake up as as she did, a whole host of issues were waking up right along with her.
She was aching, she was sore, she was...she didn't even know.
"God..." she groaned, straight away hating how dry and unpleasant her mouth was.
She wished she hadn't murmured to herself. Her throat was hoarse and while she wished she had water close to hand, she realized that even if there was a cup right next to her, she wouldn't be able to pick it up.
It wasn't just her head.
Her whole body felt heavy.
Her arms had been replaced by hunks of lead, her legs were completely dead and she was cold.
What had she been up to?
She couldn't remember.
For the life of her, she just couldn't remember but there was one thing she did know. The last time she had felt this gross had been a result of a lethal combination: hard drugs and the ever effervescent Paul. From experience, she knew they were a deadly combination and yet here she was. She couldn't remember but it fit. Was that what she had done last night? Hadn't she learned her lesson from before?
She didn't know but what else could it have been?
"Ow-oh-" she tried to push herself upright, wanting to curse Paul into oblivion but her whole body screamed in protest, cutting off her thoughts. Swallowing, pushing through the pain in her throat, she forced herself to open her eyes, "-fuck..."
She was naked.
That's why she was so cold, she was completely and utterly naked.
Naked, slumped on the floor beside her bed, her torso pressed against the covered mattress, her head having been pressed into it but her legs flush against the cool, wooden floor.
Well. That was one for the books. Naked, slumped against her bed and kneeling on...she whimpered, closing her eyes as the discomfort in her head became a soft and steady pounding.
She was kind of kneeling on a white nightdress.
The way the material was pooled around her knees but not quite covering her legs made her think that maybe she had been using it as a blanket? Not a good or effective blanket but it was obvious she hadn't been wearing it.
It was so weird.
Had she really been with Paul?
She didn't know.
She couldn't guess, she couldn't remember.
Pushing her body away from the bed as best she could, she bit her lip as her dead arm thunked against her equally dead thigh.
She hated herself. Whatever she had done, she hated herself for it.
She had never before felt so utterly weak, drained.
It was if the life had been pulled from her.
She coughed for a second, eyes snapping open as something tugged against her neck.
"Jesus Christ-" she whispered, wondering when she was going to catch a break and feel better. As her arm had plopped downwards, it had snagged against something - some kind of scarf or wrap that had been loosely covering her upper body - and given her a jerking little choke. Using her other, marginally more useful limb, she tugged at the offending material, seeing that it was actually a fairly sizable shawl..but it wasn't hers.
Wasn't it-wasn't it Lucy's?
"Christ" she whispered, giving up and letting her other arm flop onto her thigh, the scarf now covering the skin and exposing her neck and chest even more to the cold bite of her room.
She tried to clear her mind, to collect her thoughts.
She had woken up naked, slumped against her bed rather than on it, with an increasingly pounding headache and a feeling of physical weakness that she had never felt before and she was wrapped in a shawl she had only ever seen her mother wear?
She tried to think backwards, tried to remember but everything was just a haze of nothing.
What the hell had she been up to?
What had she done, where had she-
"-LIZZIE!"
She jumped, her whole body jerking as Sammy's voice exploded in her room despite the two doors and staircase acting as a barrier between them.
That was all that she needed right now.
"Liz?"
She closed her eyes, eyebrows furrowed.
"Elizabeth Emerson, she with the bad sense of fashion? Are you with us? Are you present and awake? LIZ!" he certainly sounded perky. Perky and impatient, "C'mon already. Grandpa's making waffles. He said be down in thirty. That OK? Do I need to send up the dogs or what?"
She wanted to shout at him to go away, to leave her alone but in a strange and unexpected move, her stomach came to life at the mention of waffles and she realized that as well as feeling weak, cold, confused and exhausted, she was also ravenously hungry.
She could have eaten a whole pile of waffles or bacon and eggs or hell, even a stew.
Something hearty, something filled with carrots and meat and-
"-Liz? Seriously, do I gotta send up the dog or what?"
She took a breath, swallowing again.
She didn't want him or the dog to come up her stairs but she just felt so...drained. She felt kind of foul but as time was slowing passing, she could feel herself coming to terms with everything. At least, she wasn't trying to fight the headache and her legs were tingling painfully as they began to wake up. It was a slow start but thirty minutes and the promise of food could be a-
"-ARE YOU UP?"
"YES, Sammy!"
She closed her eyes, hating her outburst because of how much it hurt her throat but in an odd way she knew that she was better for it. It was like ripping off a band aid, fast and hard with no time to think about or even consider the pain. She knew that there was no water in her room, nothing to drink and at least now she had pushed past the sharp discomfort in her throat.
Or at least, she hoped she had.
"Huh?"
"I said I'm up-"
It wasn't a lie, she was well and truly awake.
"-so thirty minutes OK?"
Did she have any other choice?
"Yeah"
She blinked, trying to wet her lips as best she could. Now that she was speaking, she really did know that her throat wasn't sore, that she wasn't sick. The pain was nothing more than the result of plain thirst.
"'kay. Nanook's in a mood anyway, I wouldn't have actually sent him up..."
His voice sounded fainter.
"Bye, Sammy"
He didn't reply and Elizabeth could only hope he had wandered away. She trusted that he wasn't on his way up, anyway. He had very much learned his lesson about barging into her room and she was glad for it. There was no way, absolutely no way in hell she'd be able to explain or talk her way out of this one...whatever this one was.
Groaning, she looked down at herself once more.
Not sick, not unwell.
She was sore, with a bad headache, the worst case of dry mouth ever and no memory of the night before.
Everything was just screaming her bubbly, blonde friend.
This was Paul.
One hundred percent, she must have linked up with him last night and, in a show of friendship and forgiveness and stupidity, gotten absolutely shit faced with whatever drugs he had stashed in the many pockets of his tux.
Of course, she didn't know why she was naked and not in her bed but she didn't remember much of what she had gotten up to the previous time, either. She decided that while she loved Paul, she was going to kill him. There was just no way she could keep up with him and yes, she should have known better but so should he.
Sighing, rubbing her dry lips together, Elizabeth slowly and painfully rose to her feet.
As she stood, a spell of dizziness came over her but it didn't linger.
"Jesus, Paul..." she whispered to herself, looking down at her feet.
Not even a pair of socks? She was surprised at how irresponsible she had been and, as she shook her head, she glanced out of the window. It was an overcast day and the rain was sort of a strong drizzle. It was no surprise that she was cold, a miracle that she wasn't sick. Hadn't the storm last night been a wild one? Pounding rain, thunder, lightning?
Had he come to her house? Had she gone to him?
She shook her head.
She didn't know.
She crossed her arms over her chest, the limbs still feeling heavy yet weak, before slowly and carefully turning, heading towards her little closet. Whatever she had gotten up to, the first thing she needed to do was dress-
-she frowned, coming to a halt as she blinked down at her thigh.
It was itchy.
"What on earth.." she whispered to herself.
There, on her inner thigh and in a very intimate location was a long, perfectly straight cut. It was precise, smooth and while the skin around it was a little bit red, it was clearly healing well. Itchy rather than painful but pretty impressive all the same. It wasn't deep as such, though judging by the raised welt and the already present scab it must have been deep enough to draw a decent amount of blood.
It looked like the area around it was bruising but it didn't feel particularly sore.
It was such a deliberate cut, she was taken aback as she stared down at it.
She tilted her head, observing it, trying to place what had happened.
"No. No, no! No, don't-no-"
Elizabeth felt herself blush, felt her face flame with heat as a memory, so sudden, so vivid and powerful came back to her.
Dwayne had pulled away from her neck but until then she hadn't fully realized, so immersed in the pleasure, in the feeling of pain so pure it was potent, orgasmic. He was down low, nipping, sucking and kissing her stomach, her hips. It felt wonderful, the way his teeth was grazing her skin, the way his lips were sucking and nibbling, biting. Even in her haze of needful pleasure she knew it, she knew it should satisfy her but it didn't.
She needed more, she needed to feel him feeding from her. His touch was indescribable but his bite was shattering.
She couldn't focus, she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe.
She needed it.
She needed it and he was denying her.
"Don't-oh God, no, don't stop it, don't-"
"-I have to, baby"
"No!"
She dug her fingers into his hair, entwining them in the thick and smooth strands, desperate to pull him up, to pull him back to her neck once more. She cried out in frustration, tugging as best she could despite her limp, ineffective digits.
She heard him hiss and she groaned, writhing on the floor beneath him.
"Please come back"
"You're weak..."
The trembling, needful tone of his voice almost brought her to tears and she took a hitching breath as she felt him nip her thigh.
She didn't feel weak.
She felt alive.
Why was he denying her?
His own voice was shaking and she didn't know if she could be without his bite, "please. Please, Dwayne-"
His groan interrupted her pleading, begging, needful words and she arched her back as she felt it.
Cutting.
There, right there on her thigh. It was painful, sharp and fire like but God, she wanted it. She could feel her thigh shake and she could feel the trembles of his body in return. He had cut her thigh, he had made a mark and she cried out as he began to suck on the wound.
Stumbling, Elizabeth took a few shocked steps backwards, her knees thankfully meeting the mattress of her bed.
She sank onto it, mind reeling.
It was nothing to do with Paul, nothing at all.
No drugs, no wild parties.
It was Dwayne.
She had been with Dwayne.
"Oh...oh..." she took a breath, her hand jerking upwards towards her neck before she froze, the implications of everything completely flooring, overwhelming her.
She had chosen.
She had given herself to Dwayne completely.
She was his. She was a mate.
Truly, irrevocably. She was his.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, wanting desperately to remember everything, the pieces of the puzzle slowly slotting into place.
That's why she had been so weak, so limp. She had literally been drained but..well, not entirely drained.
What had Dwayne told her? His voice so tremulous, so husky and needful, quivering and conflicted.
He had said she was weak. That he had to stop.
But she had pushed him, hadn't she?
She hadn't wanted him to stop.
Gently, her index finger traced the outline of the cut on her thigh.
His nail?
It must have been.
He had been so terrifying, a creation of nightmares and horror stories, flaming eyes and talons and teeth...but God, he had been so tender. So soft, so...so loving.
She opened her eyes, blinking into the dimness of her room.
Again, she had raised her hand inquisitively towards her neck but had frozen.
She knew what must be there, she wanted to touch it and feel it but at the same time, she couldn't.
It was momentous, it was the very definition of life changing and being there, in her room, naked and cold and still somewhat lethargic and sore just felt wrong.
Inappropriate.
She should have been with him, in his arms, her body tucked against his, his chin resting on top of her head and together...together, they should have touched it, felt it.
Together, they should be exploring the mark she knew was on her skin.
She wished she could be with him.
Elizabeth sighed, feeling quietly elated but lonely, too.
Sammy was downstairs, Grandpa, too but all she wanted was Dwayne.
She closed her eyes and smiled softly before faltering.
She had been with him. It wasn't drugs, it wasn't Paul. It had been Dwayne...
...so why had she woken up cold, naked and on the floor?
With a little frown, she looked down to her feet, seeing the white nightgown and the shawl pooled on the floor.
Suddenly, they made sense.
She was both right and wrong; she hadn't been wearing the items but she hadn't been using them as a blanket, either.
She had been wrapped up in them.
A image was forming in her head. She could picture herself limp and unresponsive, having succumbed to the darkness and Dwayne...had he been needful? Weak? Fighting a bloodlust that she had only ever read about in books? Tired, wanting to slink into satisfied, satiated nothingness like she had done? However he felt, his duty towards her had dominated everything for he had gotten her home safely.
She could see it.
He had scooped her up, wrapped her and covered her as best he could in that moment and gotten her home. He must have been weak, weak or fighting for time because there was no way he would have left her anywhere other than tucked safely inside her bed otherwise...but still.
She had been safe and he had left.
She slouched forward a little, her headache having almost gone and the weakness of her body present but less pronounced.
She wished she could see him right now. More than anything, she wanted to see him, to hold him and kiss him and be with him.
Celebrate with him.
She had chosen.
They had chosen and suddenly, she realized that she had an expiration date. Life as she knew it had an ending, there was a timeframe now.
She had set things in motion.
It was a strange, heavy thought and she took a breath, smiling weakly.
"You want bacon or salmon?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes, dropping her head into her hands and laughing weakly as Sammy's voice floated up to her room.
"Bacon" she replied, shaking her head as she rubbed at her face.
Her whole world had changed, life as she knew it would be ending in a future that didn't seem so far away, she had been bitten by her vampiric mate, she had experienced pleasure beyond all comprehension...and here she was.
Back to her mortal reality. Life as usual in the Emerson house with her brother and crazy grandpa steering the wheel.
Bacon or salmon.
God, what kind of a question?
She laughed again.
"Yeah, that's what I said. The idea of salmon on a breakfast waffle makes me wanna ralph..." the younger blonde drummed his fist against the door at the bottom of the stairs and the sound carried loudly up to her, "see you in five"
Five?
She sighed, still smiling as she gently shook her head.
Life was changing but still, it was business as usual.
Carefully pushing herself off the bed, Elizabeth padded to her closet. Her legs still felt a little heavy but she felt infinitely better than when she had woken up. Not really thinking, she sloppily tugged on the first set of clean underwear she touched and then pulled on a pair of acid washed jeans. She'd not worn them a lot in the past but they were clean, close and easy to slip on so she decided that they would be perfectly fine for the day.
She didn't care what she looked like.
She just wanted to dress, eat a huge breakfast and then see her mate.
Except she was meeting Paul that evening.
She groaned, suddenly remembering that, too.
She had apologized to him, arranged to hang out with him. Wasn't she buying him dinner?
"Oh, Dwayne.." she murmured to herself.
She couldn't ditch Paul, not after their fight, but God, she wanted Dwayne more than anything.
She took a breath and slowly turned her body towards the mirror.
She looked..well...scraggly hair aside, she looked fine. Pale, more so - and noticeably so - than usual, with dark circles under her eyes but she looked like herself. She could see that she had filled out a little bit, obviously the result of her unheeding eating, snacking and drinking during the nights but she was Elizabeth.
Same old Elizabeth...except, not.
Not the same old Elizabeth.
Not at all, not really.
Everything had changed.
With a tentative bite of her lip, Elizabeth took a step closer to the mirror. She tilted her neck slowly and with a hand that was only marginally unsteady, she swept back her knotted hair.
The bite was like nothing she was expecting.
In every horror movie, in every book, in every picture the damsel, the victim of the vampire had two puncture marks on their neck. Sometimes red and bloody, sometimes swollen and leaking fluid, sometimes nothing more than large and healed circular scars. She had been imaging that but Dwayne's bite?
She gently grazed her fingers over the scar on her neck.
It was a scar, that much was undeniable, but it looked nothing like what she thought a vampire's bite would look like.
The skin was raised and red, looking like an angry and sizably thick welt rather than two distinctive pin pricks. The skin around it was bruised, a lot worse than the cut on her thigh and, as she gazed at it, she couldn't help but smile.
It was oddly simple and she couldn't deny that it pleased her.
She was his.
She was a mate.
Elizabeth jumped as a thud rang out in the room.
"I'm coming!" she shouted, knowing that Sammy had thudded his fist against the door. She shook her head, looking longingly at her neck in the mirror before muttering, "Jesus, I can't have five minutes?"
"He wants salmon and I can't do this by myself, Liz! Unless you want fishy waffles get down here..."
"I'm literally putting on a top!"
She sighed and rolled her eyes, looking at her neck one last time before turning towards her clothes.
She needed something high neck, something subtle, discreet to cover the mark because there was no way it wouldn't get a lot of attention.
Unwanted attention.
She tugged at a blouse, wondering if she could sling a cute little neck scarf on with it. It would be kind of Parisian, sort of chic...and Sammy would hone in on it in a second.
She released the blouse.
It was no good.
With a little grimace, Elizabeth tugged out a fluffy turtleneck. She hated it with a passion and had never worn it, the only reason she hadn't donated it was because Sammy and Lucy had gifted it to her after a trip to the mall. Sammy had picked it out and he had been damn proud of it. Thick but weirdly light at the same time, the top half of the sweater was a brash neon turquoise and across the stomach was a jagged black line that served as a divider, separating the color of the bottom half...which just happened to be pink with yellow polka dots. It was so far from her usual uniform of blouses and tees, it was the absolute opposite of simple, of subtle and easy and while she had accepted it with a grateful smile, she'd never worn it.
Sammy was the fashionable one.
He was the one who took home economics and smashed his sewing classes.
He was the one who styled his look.
He was the one who followed trends and when he convinced Lucy to buy the sweater, he'd been thinking about his own personal style rather than his sisters...but today...
"God, no..." Elizabeth groaned, grimacing at the monstrosity in her hands.
She had to do it.
She had to dress like a fashion victim because what was the alternative?
"Hey family, look at my nifty neck scar, ask me all about it..." she whispered sarcastically.
She didn't want to but she knew she had to.
With a shake of her head, she slipped it on, silently cursing Sammy.
It was ugly as sin but there was no denying that the sweater was comfortable.
Warm, oversized and looking pretty good with the acid wash of her jeans. She felt like an actress or a model or something. If she blew out her hair and slicked on some pastel lip colors, she'd look exactly like a mall rat and that was Sammy's thing.
She shook her head ruefully, half wanting to hide and half wanting to show Dwayne exactly what she was having to do to be discreet about their encounter and she couldn't help but laugh at herself.
"Fashion victim, on her way..." she muttered, touching her covered neck gently before grabbing a brush and giving her hair a brief, brutal sweep.
There was breakfast to be had and a long day ahead of her.
Business as usual.
No matter how much she thought about it, she wondered if life would ever be the same from now on.
She was surprised that Sammy wasn't lingering impatiently in the corridor, ready to bark at her for not hurrying up but she shrugged and walked down the main stairs into the living room.
The rain was still pattering softly, alternating between rain and drizzle, and she sighed for a moment as she took in the space.
"Bacon or ham?"
"Uh-" she jumped, seeing Grandpa stood in the doorway of the kitchen, "-bacon or ham?"
Hadn't Sammy mentioned salmon?
He walked over to her happily.
"-in the batter mix, kiddo. What are you having, bacon or ham?"
"In the mix?"
"Ayuh"
"...bacon?"
"Atta girl"
Elizabeth blinked as Grandpa winked at her, carrying a bowl filled with very wet looking batter out towards this workroom. She watched him, turning lightly on the spot to see him pass, only to notice that in the left pocket of his jeans was a hunk of smoky looking bacon wrapped in saran wrap and shining like a beacon, and there in the right pocket was a store bought packet of vacuum sealed sandwich ham.
"We got maple for the topping kiddo. You're in for a treat, bacon in the batter's gonna blow your mind"
"...wh..." she trailed off, frowning.
Why wasn't he cooking waffles in the kitchen? And why was there a chopping knife, spoon and whisk dangling from the loops of his belt?
There was no way that was sanitary.
She wondered if he had plates tucked under his shirt and a spatula jammed into his boots.
"Oh, Grandpa?"
"Yeah?" he paused and looked over at her and she said somewhat hesitantly, hoping that she was going to be getting bacon and nothing else, "Sammy said something about salmon?"
"Salmon on top, yeah. Double bacon, maple and salmon. It's smoked. Smoked salmon and bacon are good friends, you know"
She grimaced, catching herself, "um-do you, uh..sorry, it's just that I don't like to mix my meats. You know..land and sea..."
"So, no salmon?"
"If it's all the same..."
He shrugged, "suit yourself kid. You're wantin' just bacon on top?"
Bacon on bacon?
She smiled and nodded, "sounds awesome!"
"Only because I'm quite fond of you" he told her with a wink, moving on towards his work room.
She watched him go with a grin, heading into the kitchen herself.
"What's up with-"
"-Grandpa's waffle iron is in his work room and apparently that's where it's staying"
Elizabeth looked over, hearing Sammy's voice. He was sat at the kitchen table with a mild grin on his face, the smile of a wise man who knew it all and had seen it all. Though his eyes were trained on his comic book her must have sensed her eyes on him for he gave a somewhat sheepish, somewhat ambivalent shrug.
As she headed to the sink and filled a glass with water, he carried on speaking.
"I was going to fight him on it but he gave me a sample. I think it was preemptive on his part but it was so good. I don't need to know why the waffle iron's in there but I'll tell you...I'm not angry about these waffles...I mean, so long as they're badger fur free, right?"
"I live in a mad house..."
She shook her head, swallowing a huge and relieving gulp of water.
She felt a little bit stunned as Sammy casually and easily turned the page of his comic. He was obviously very comfortable around the old man and had accepted the strange ways of the house they were living on because, sitting there, he seemed so at ease with it all.
Sometimes, despite running with vampires and having a secret life, she thought what went on in her own home was often stranger than the secrets she was keeping.
"We're all mad here..." he retorted, his voice quivering like a host of a fifties horror show, "why we-oh my God is that a turtle neck?!"
Her brother erupted into gleeful laughter.
Elizabeth froze on the spot, clutching the hem of her sweater before trying to shoot him a composed and casual, "yeah?"
Sammy continued laughing, "my sister in something fashionable?!"
He closed the comic, dropping it carelessly onto the table.
"I'm not not fashionable" she retorted, eyeing him cautiously, "and today is cold"
She should have gone with the scarf or something.
Sammy was right.
She was wearing fashionable clothes.
Maybe she could have played off a neck tie or a scarf better than what she was currently wearing.
"You're definitely not fashionable" he told her, shaking his head, "Mom and I bought that for you in the mall! I remember we spent ages trying to pick something out for you"
"So?"
"So you didn't buy it! You're not into fashion. You never even tried it on, did you? Come on. You're like...jeans and a tee. Simple dresses. Sneakers..." he was also wearing a neon monstrosity of a shirt, beige cardigan and patterned pants and she actually matched him quite well.
"That's total James Dean" Elizabeth said, folding her arms "and he's classic. So that means I'm..." she thought for a second, "I'm classically fashionable"
He snorted in brotherly derision.
"You know what? I hope your waffles come with double the fur"
He eyed her, his voice still filled with laughter and a big smile plastered on his face, "...so come on, Miss Suddenly 'Classically' Fashionable"
"...what?"
"What's the deal?"
"What?"
Sammy grinned widely, pushing his chair back, "I mean what's up with the sudden good style choice?"
"It's cold, this was in my closet" she spoke as if she was talking to a simpleton.
"That's all?"
"Uh, yeah?"
His eyes were sparkling, "you sure you're not hiding anything?"
Her heart froze.
"Got a secret boyfriend?"
She stared at him in mute, dumb shock as he approached her, his arms outstretched and still with the biggest, widest, brightest smile on his face.
She swatted his hands away and he laughed.
"Back off, Sammy!"
She could feel her heart beating, thudding with panic and she jumped back as he made a weak attempt at a lunge. His was tactful weakness, just a little lunge to freak her out but her jump was sloppy because she was weak.
She was still sore and tired and feeling limp and she knew that if Sammy wanted to see her neck, he stood a pretty good chance of getting a peek.
"I'm serious, back off!"
It had been the wrong thing to say. She realized it but it was too late.
"You do! You are hiding something!"
He was laughing with delight, the joyous laugh of a brother who finally had some ammo over his sister and, this time, when he reached his hands outwards there was nothing light, weak or soft about it.
He was really going in.
"Stay-ow, Sammy!-" she tried to swat him away but years and years of wrestling with Michael had taught him a trick or two and he psyched her out, making to claw at her throat but instead moving fast and jabbing her in the side.
She yelped and doubled forward, tilting to the side at the same time, trying to swing her arms and hit at him but he laughed again, giving her a tickle.
"Sammy-stop-" she yelped, landing a good thud against his arm but he was obviously having a great time and, with another laugh rather than yelp of pain himself, he hooked his foot around her ankle and gave it a tug.
She folded, holding onto him to steady herself. Again, Michael must have taught him well because as she began to fall, he went with her but unlike her, he was controlled.
She had no idea he could be so slick and, as he continued to tickle her while sitting on her stomach, she began to cough through her panicked laughter. She didn't want to laugh but it was impossible and as tears pricked her eyes, her brother must have assumed she was having a good old laugh right along with him.
"So what's his name? Huh!? Huh?" he punctuated each 'huh' with a jab to her sides, his eyes bright.
"-no, Sammy-
She tried to swat him away but in a moment that seemed to be in complete slow motion, she saw that his fingers were aiming towards the high neck of her sweater.
Dwayne's mark, proof that she did have secrets, secrets that she couldn't share, secrets that could never come out, secrets that could-
"-aw man you suck" he laughed, getting in one last little jab of a tickle, "you had me going there!"
She flinched as his fingers brushed the painful, bruised skin of his neck.
She could feel it, she could feel the bite burning as his stupid fingers grazed it but the disappointment in Sammy's voice was real.
He wasn't goofing, he wasn't playing...he couldn't see it.
How could he miss it?
"Get off of me!"
"You're a good actress!" Sammy told her, jerking his hands away from her neck and threatening to tickle her again, "so you really are just trying new clothes, huh? Or do you wanna be like me? Embracing-"
He grunted as Elizabeth managed to punch his chest.
"I told you! IT'S COLD!" she yelled at him, "GET OFF!"
"Sammy get off your sister, would you? That looks indecent"
For all her hollers, protests and pleas it was Grandpa's barked words that propelled a reaction from her brother. She had never seen him move so fast - it really was a morning of firsts. With a funny noise, a grunt of gross and ewww, he pushed his hands into her stomach and all but hauled himself up and away from her.
She was sure it wasn't intentional, but she coughed and heaved as he managed to upset her empty stomach as well as knock some of the air out of her in his haste.
"Grandpa that's gross!"
"Looked like it from where I was stood, too"
Sammy made another noise of disgust as Elizabeth gaped like a fish on the floor.
"Get the plates sorted, would you?" Grandpa asked Sammy, opening the fridge and retrieving a packet of smoked salmon.
"You suck!" Sammy mouthed at Elizabeth with a grin, looking somewhat perturbed but still in good spirits.
"You sure about the salmon, kiddo?" Grandpa asked, swatting Sammy with the packet as the younger blonde passed him on the way to the cupboards.
"Yeah" Elizabeth nodded, struggling to get to her feet.
She didn't understand.
Sammy couldn't see it?
She felt a bit dizzy again, a bit dazed.
"Elizabeth? Are you alright?"
"She's fine, Grandpa!" Sammy chimed in and Elizabeth nodded, "yeah..yeah I'm good"
"You're pretty pale.."
"She's always pale"
"I'm fine"
"Alright..." the old man didn't sound convinced, "you look kind of peaky"
Peaky?
Drained of blood, spending the night on the floor, getting tackled by Sammy.
She wasn't surprised to hear she looked off.
"Yeah, no I'm just hungry" she smiled at the old man, desperately wanting to go and look in the mirror.
Was she wrong?
Had she been mistaken?
No.
It was there. She knew it was. She had felt the way Sam's fingers had grazed it, hell, even now she could feel it.
Why couldn't he see?
"Let's get you some meat then. That'll help. You sure you're not sick"
"Not sick"
She rubbed her palms over her jeans, brushing herself off and taking a step back.
"Go on into my workroom, take a pew-"
"-what about the plates?!-"
"-and I'll get you fed" Grandpa tutted and looked at Sammy, "grab some cups, too"
Sammy muttered a comment, something that sounded like it contained the words 'pack mule' but got to work anyway.
"You're sure you're fine?"
"Sure"
Elizabeth smiled and headed out of the kitchen, focused on the need to inspect her neck that she hadn't really considered his careful tone, the way he was checking she really was alright.
All she could think about was her neck.
"You just sit yourself down OK, kid?" Grandpa called after her.
"I will"
"Well alrighty then. Say, you want to try the salmon? Get some proper food in you?"
"Sounds good" she said, not really listening, dead set on stopping by the mirror in the hall before doing anything else.
She wished she could see Dwayne - or even Paul, Marko or David - then and there. In the movies, a vampire's bite was always visible...so why wasn't hers?
A/N: Oh my gosh life has absolutely pummeled me and I'm so sorry. I have the next two chapters written, just awaiting some editing. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has stayed with me and supported this story and a big shout out to the ones who have been there since Chapter One. You genuinely rock - MissRuthless, you chose a good time to have a re-read haha. I will try and update soon - the next few chapters are 100% with our Lost Boys. We get some Paul and Marko time and then it's all Elizabeth and Dwayne. Until then...take care everyone!