I do not own Blood and Chocolate, nor do I own Twilight. I DO own my characters however.

(Don't worry. The boys will get their chances to narrate soon.)

"In a Space" by The Kinks

Paulette:

Now I was grounded, not by Ben, but by my parents. You think grounding ends when you're eighteen because you're legally an adult. Then you realize you have no reason to object to being grounded because your parents reserve the right to kick you out of the house and no matter how nice you're parents are, you don't really want to risk that.

So I sat on my bed cross legged shaking my leg anxiously. I hated being cooped up. I hated being alone, and I hated doing essays otherwise I would be working on that right now. Usually when one of us Reigh girls were grounded one or the other sisters would keep them company until the time of ungrounding.

Right now Layla was still out with Jonas. I had no one. I tried to keep my tears down, but there was no denying what was bothering me.

I missed my older sister. Tears came to my eyes despite my efforts to choke them down. My leg stopped shaking and I just sat there sitting on my bed staring at the white and turquoise pattern of my comforter. I sniffed as tears dropped down. I remembered Phoebe and I promising to be each other's maids of honor. When the issue came up with Layla's wedding we decided she was probably going to just move out alone and get a bunch of cats.

That was before Jonas of course.

Now I was going to have to be a maid of honor to Layla, and don't get me wrong, I love her to death, but I was never going to see her get married to some brain dead underwear model. Phoebe had planned on getting married more than once and with her sparkle she could have anyone she wanted.

I missed her so much.

I had lost my favorite shopping companion. Who was going to try on clothes for me, so I didn't have to? Phoebe was my own personal identical model for my clothes. Who was going to drag me on stupid adventures halfway across the country? Who's driving was I going to make fun of now? Layla was a much better driver than me.

I choked on a sob.

"Aw, you can stop crying now. I'm back!" said a voice snapping me back to reality. I jerked up to see Ben plopping in the hideous armchair I'd inherited from a dead grandmother. He had an electric guitar in his hand. It wasn't plugged in, but he lazily propped his legs on the armchair and started strumming on the tight strings.

"I wasn't crying about you, stupid vampire," I said quickly wiping my eyes.

"Upset about being grounded?" Ben asked with no show of real concern. His eyes closed as fingers danced up the neck of the old guitar.

"Never mind," I said quietly.

"I was thinking..." Ben started.

"I'll alert the media," I said dryly.

"Who said that you smelled today?" Ben asked opening his eyes.

"My sister's big dumb boyfriend," I said hugging my knees, one of which was black, blue, and a sickly shade of yellowish-green from my encounter with Tav.

"Somebody's bitter," Ben said taking his eyes off his useless electric guitar to spare me a glance of sympathy. I squinted my eyes at him to show I didn't want any of it. "Hey, guess this song." He played for about five seconds before I answered.

"Brown Eyed Girl."

"Very good," Ben said impressed. I didn't want to hear a happy song. I wanted to wallow in self pity, but he continued to play it.

"You were talking about my stench," I reminded him. Even talking didn't distract him from the song.

"Yes. No other humans noticed your smell," he said.

"Not exactly. His friends did. They might have just been agreeing with him, but he's not exactly the ring leader of the social group. I don't know why they would be sucking up to him. Especially since they're not so fond of Layla," I said. Brown Eyed Girl's tune turned to Eric Clapton's song, Layla. I groaned. It was my dad's favorite song, hence the reason my sister's name was Layla.

He stopped before he could get too far into the song, thank God.

"They don't like her?" Ben asked.

"Not exactly. They just... tolerate her," I said. "There's no real friendship between them."

"Maybe Jonah has more influence than you think," Ben pointed out.

"Jonas," I corrected.

"Same difference," Ben shrugged. I smiled to myself and then shook my head in disagreement.

"No. Jonas is kind of the outcast among them."

"Huh..." Ben said indifferently. "I don't know then. Vampires smell you, but Tav said you smelled good. Really good. Humans can't smell you. Maybe he's just a freak. Or maybe its him that smelled bad. His friends were probably like, 'What's that gnarly smell?' and Jonas points the finger at you."

I smiled.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence. Even though I'm taking the word of a vampire with no sense of smell that I smell just fine," I said. He strummed his guitar pick down the strings.

"Not just fine. Good. In fact I'm willing to bet you smell very good. Tav should know. He's been alive about three hundred years. I bet he's smelled all sorts of things. Dead camels, bad authentic Chinese food, a pope's fart. The guy's been around," he said. I smiled, though I was trying not to. Ben saw it. He grinned to himself, satisfied that he'd gotten me to feel better.

"What about you?" I asked Ben. He stopped strumming. "How old are you?"

"It's not important," he said breaking off into his own little guitar solo.

"I want to know," I insisted.

"I'm a hundred years old," he said.

"What a load of crap," was my immediate response before I could contain myself. He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Oh, come on. Your lingo. It's too up to date. Tav doesn't sound like he's from this time. Then again, he is foreign. But he was too proper... you know, when he wasn't drooling on me. And your taste in music is a dead give away. I've never met someone from more than two generations ago who likes acid rock."

"How old do you think I am?" he asked.

"Sixty-four," I guessed. He frowned and made an awkward note come from his second string. "Sixty?"

"I, for one, am insulted," he pouted.

"Fifty-..."

"Eight," he finished. "That's counting the years I was human." I smiled to myself.

"That's so cool. So you saw the civil rights movement, Watergate, Nixon, the Cold War, Johnson..."

"Bah!" Ben spat.

"...and Vietnam," I went on dreamily. He struck another off note. Then he hurriedly went off into some song I couldn't guess. His eyes closed and he went into a show-offy twanging of his small petit strings that were pitiful without a speaker to be plugged into.

"I thought of a pet name for you," he said. I gave him a funny look as he ventured suddenly into another subject. He grinned to himself. "Just in case any other vampires stop off, I've got to mark my territory to make sure no one thinks they can just up and take a bite whenever they want. Pet names are a great way to do that."

"I guess it'd be better than peeing on me," I mused thoughtfully.

"You are now and forever more, my little morsel," he declared. I frowned.

"Morsel? I'm not a snack," I found myself arguing.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"No," I decided.

"Good," he muttered loudly. I gave him my best unamused look which he dutifully ignored. His brows went up in time with the high notes. I laid down on my stomach from my bed and watched him. He was so remarkable and peaceful looking when he had his rusted old guitar.

He had made sense, as strange as that fact seemed. What was with Jonas and his smelling me? His friends had too. Ben couldn't even warn me that I smelled with his lack of senses.

"How come you have no sense of smell?" I asked him curiously.

"Genetic defect. It's not unheard of. I didn't have a sense of smell or taste when I was human and I didn't get it when I was transformed. I've never smelled or tasted anything before," he said.

"Wow. I can't imagine. You've never gotten to taste food," I said thoughtfully.

"Nope."

"But the other vampires smell."

"Other vampires have an exceptional sense of smell," Ben said strumming slower.

"Then shouldn't they be swarming the house?" I asked.

"I told you. There are no vampires in Danwell. Present company excluded of course," he said.

"How come?" I pestered.

"Because this city is an accident waiting to happen," Ben mumbled. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What does that mean?"

"There are certain places in the world that vampires just don't go. It just doesn't have a good feeling. Its kind of like walking into a haunted house. It just doesn't feel very welcoming. Like there's someone waiting to grab you and tear your limbs off around the corner," he said. He opened his eyes to see my confused face.

"So... Vampires just know to stay away?"

"Yes," he said. "It's hard to explain. Its just instinct I guess."

"What about you?"

"I'm very uncomfortable in this city. The only thing keeping me here is you," he said. He stopped suddenly, opening his eyes as he realized what he'd said. I smiled at him.

"Aw! Ben, you said something nice!" I pointed out. He shook his head.

"It was an accident. What I meant was your blood," he said.

"Yeah sure."

"I'm serious."

"Uh huh," I said. I batted my lashes at him animatedly. He snorted. "You couldn't keep away from me if I smelled as bad to you as I do to Jonas."

"Don't kid yourself. And I take back what I said earlier. I bet you do stink," he said. I smirked at him and waggled my brows at him. "You should go to sleep."

"Why do you feel the need to tell me what to do and when to do it?" I responded.

"Because I need you in prime shape to get the blood I need. It's not like I have a spare Paulette in my back pocket," he said.

"Do you sleep?"

"When I can."

"Can you die?" I asked. Ben hesitated. Of course this was too much information. He's not going to give me a list of instructions for killing him. He did have some self preservation.

"Go to sleep, my little morsel," he said.

"Are you seriously going to keep calling me that?"

"Are you capable of saying a sentence that doesn't end in a question mark?"

"Are my questions bothering you?" I pestered.

"Yes," he said in an annoyed tone.

"You know, I have to warn you. I'm infamous for my huge mouth. Everyone's business is my business. So you better get used to the questions," I said shifting myself so I was sitting up against my headboard. He decided to ignore me and turn his attention back to his guitar. He scooted up in his chair and reached for the headphones of my MP3 player. He stuck them into his guitar so he could hear himself play, where I only heard the pitiful plucking of electric guitar strings.

"Fine. Be that way, jerk," I said. I got off my bed and grabbed a change of pajamas. Meanwhile I listened to the tunes Ben was playing, humming to myself as I was confident he was no longer paying attention to me. I went to the bathroom to change and then came back. Ben hadn't moved from his position.

"I am he is, you are he is, you are me and we are all together..." I sang along to the Beatles tune. I only half realized I was saying this out loud. I had to check to make sure he wasn't looking my way. He wasn't.

So I decided to go ahead and go to bed. Soft melodies lulled me to sleep.

Layla:

As soon as I got home I got to work. I hate dressing up. I hate dressing up more than you can possibly imagine. I'd rather pull out all of my teeth with my fingers. But I guess if it was for Jonas, then I suppose I could. I walked passed Paulette's bedroom and gave it the slightest of acknowledgements. I wished I could open the door and ask her to do my hair or borrow some of her make up.

But not if I wanted to keep the stench off me.

"Now what do you wear when you're meeting your werewolf boyfriend's pack?" I mumbled to myself.

Good question.

I mussed through my clothes and couldn't find anything. I had Invader Zim tee's, a Wonder Girl shirt, a red Pirates of the Caribbean shirt that had a droolworthy picture of Jack Sparrow and said "Sparrow's Wench" underneath.

I imagined myself in that shirt going up to the millionaire father of my boyfriend and Alpha of a werewolf pack, and shaking his hand. "Hello, Mr. Carter. I am a whore."

It probably wasn't going to fly. The shirt had been a joke Christmas present from Phoebe last year and I only wore it to bed. I tried to find a skirt underneath all the piles of clothes my mother bought me and I never wore. You've got to be kidding me. I didn't have a skirt.

Uh oh. The only person I knew of who owned a skirt was Paulette. I checked the time on my phone. There wasn't enough time to wash it. I cursed under my breath. Then I paused. There was one place in the house left untainted by the scent.

I breathed in and out.

No one had gone in Phoebe's room since she died. I knew her clothes were still in there. I opened my bedroom door and peeked out into the hallway. My main concern was Paulette seeing me. She was incredibly touchy when it came to Phoebe. Our sister was a subject you always had to dance around when she was around.

Her room was directly across from mine, and at the head of the hallway was Phoebe's room. I tip toed toward the door and slowly let myself in, shutting the door behind me. The pink room shined too brightly like it always did, like a Pepto Bismal bottle.

Her white painted furniture was the same color as the trim. There was a small film of dust. There were pictures of her friends. She and Paulette. A few of them of me, one of my favorites was the one she took for the Myspace page she literally forced upon me. It was me not knowing she was sneaking up on me with a camera. I sat in a dim light in the bay window in my room. I was leaning back with my book in my lap, almost hovering over it because it was getting to a really good part.

I kicked Phoebe out of my room so fast after I heard that camera click.

But she'd framed it. I stared at her hard wood floors swallowing a lump in my throat.

Why was I in here again? Oh yeah, I needed a skirt.

It was strange being in there after a while. It felt like I was trespassing in a tomb. So I settled on a black flowy skirt, and a maroon low neckline cross cashmere shirt. Right, now to get the hell out of there before Phoebe's ghost comes to haunt me for stealing something her cashmere, or worse, Paulette found out I was treading on sacred ground.

I raced back to my room and hurriedly put on make up, and finally put on my glasses.

Maybe I should wear my contacts? I snorted.

"No way in hell I'm wearing contacts," I told my reflection in my bedroom mirror. I gave myself the once over and settled for decent. A honk came from outside. I looked out the window and cursed. What was Jonas doing here so early? I looked at the time.

"Crap," I said and grabbed a purse as I ran for the door. I'd kind of wanted to talk to Paulette before I went. I needed a pep talk to get ready to meet the boyfriend's parents. I jogged lightly to Jonas's truck and opened the door.

"Hey!" I said hoping I looked more excited than scared shitless. Jonas greeted me with a grin. He looked nice too, however, I couldn't help but notice he was wearing jeans. Nice jeans, but jeans none the less. I glared at him.

"I just wanted to see if you had a skirt," Jonas said with a menacing grin. Nice. He'd set me up for getting dressed up.

"I don't. I had to steal one," I said narrowing my eyes. I decided that I would give him a hard time for it later. "How do I smell?" Jonas and I leaned together. He sniffed me and grimaced.

"Um..." He didn't say anything. He just handed me fabric Febreeze. I groaned, irritated. "Sorry. At least you look great." I stepped out of the truck and sprayed into the air wafting its mist on me.

"Brown noser," I accused. Jonas shrugged. He sniffed me again.

"Well, the stupid flowery smell is kind of strong, but at least you smell clean." He leaned in met me in the middle for a kiss. With that we were off towards my doom, I was certain. Death by humiliation, if not by a werewolf mauling. I breathed deeply as I stared out the windshield. It was cold, and having to wear a skirt was not helping. Not to mention my ballet shoes rubbed on my heels.

Sometimes, being a girl really sucked. Oh well, the things we do for love. Jonas reached over with one hand still on the wheel and squeezed my hand.

"Layla, nothing bad is going to happen," Jonas laughed.

"I know," I said trying to sound confident.

"You're freaking out," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, a little," I admitted. Something struck me. "Should I have brought something to the dinner?"

"No. We have everything we need," Jonas said getting sounding just a tad bit impatient.

"I know, but its polite right? To bring something? Can we stop off somewhere to get something?"

"Layla," Jonas said. I whipped around to face him over anxious. He smiled at me. "Chill. Out. Deep breaths." I sighed.

"What if they don't like me?" I said quietly.

"That's an irrational fear," Jonas said. "Who couldn't like you?"

"Well, you know you're a little biased. Maybe your dad won't like me. And everyone else. What if they don't like me so much that they stop letting you see me again? Then we can't be with each other. And then..." Suddenly Jonas stomped on the brake. There were two black cars blocking the one lane road that led to the Carter Mansion.

Jonas started to look concern. Apparently he wasn't expecting this committee. Two men stepped out of the car. Both of which were wearing suits. They were oversized and elegant. They were werewolf. I breathed in as Jonas opened the door to his truck.

"Stay here," he ordered and slammed the car door behind him. The two men met Jonas in the middle.

"Jonas Carter, of the Carter Pack?" one asked.

"Yes," Jonas answered.

"Get rid of the human. We need to have a discussion about Marille Carter," said the other.