A/N: Sorry for the wait! I finally got my flash drive back, so now I can bring chaps from computer to computer. Now all you've gotta do is make me very happy by pushing the cute little button at the bottom...Hmm...oh, I had Jager speak to Emmie's mind when she's on the phone with him. Please let me know if that's not possible for vamps, and I'll change it. Anyway...enjoy!

Disclaimer: The world and Jager belong to AAR, as always.

It wouldn't be a terrible way to die, I muse silently.

I'm laying sprawled across my bed, my heart beating frantically against my rib cage and my breath coming in shallow gasps.

I've figured out what happened, although my mind is fuzzy and it is hard to concentrate. Jager...there's a small cut on the side of my neck on my vein...a cut smeared with blood--my blood...

Could it be true? Vampires are supposed to be fictional creatures. They only exist in fantasy books, in ghost stories. Vampires are the creatures that children impersonate for Halloween.

Jager couldn't be vampire...

But I'm so lethargic now, as if I don't have enough blood in my veins, and that would be the only logical answer for the many strange things he's done. He read my mind, for crying out loud.

Would it really be so bad if he was a vampire? I take a long, shuddering breath and let it out in a moan. I've fallen hard for him, and as far as I can see, he only wants me for my blood. I try to laugh at this, but I don't have the energy.

The ceiling is swimming before my eyes, and all I want is to rest.

My sleep is filled with nightmares of drowning.

-vVv-

I'm falling , drowning with salt water pressing down on me and tearing through my lungs, when I force my eyes open and wake up in the real world. My hand goes up to my hair as if checking to see if it's drenched and reeking of sea water.

It isn't; the nightmare fades.

Wondering what time it is--and worried that I haven't shown up for work--I glare at my bedside clock. The numbers don't make sense for a moment, but after I blink a few times they come into focus and I see it has only been two hours. I'm sore and still more than a little disoriented, but I drag myself out of bed anyways. Food will probably help, I reason.

Downstairs, I grope for the wall phone and dial Irene's number. Her answering machine picks up: "You've reached Irene's work cell. I'm too busy to answer your call now, so leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Irene?" My voice comes out almost incoherent and I have to clear my throat before continuing. "Irene, I'm not getting any better." This isn't a lie--I just don't have a migraine anymore. But shouldn't blood loss count? "I'm going to take the rest of the day as a sick day. Sorry." I cut off the connection.

It seems to take forever to get to the kitchen table, where I sit down and sigh. At least having my blood taken by a vampire doesn't leave me the energy to sulk about my beauty. I laugh softly at that thought.

Something scratches against my thigh and I dig into my jeans pocket curiously. I can feel a piece of paper rough against my fingers, but, strangely, I don't remember putting it there.

It is a phone number. And the words, "Call me when you wake up." Jager, I think, and smile.

My stomach flips over as I'm dialing the numbers. He wants me to call him. Any misgivings I had earlier about his using me as a meal disappear when he picks up on the other end of the line and says, "Hello, Emmie."

I shiver, reminded of the time he knew my name without my telling him. "Hey."

"Look, about earlier--"

I cut him off. "I know what happened, Jager. I know what you are. And I don't care." I'm being brave, and I an tell, somehow, that he's smiling. I knew you would be different. His thoughts in my head are disconcerting, but I don't try to block them out.

Out loud, he says, "I lost control." His voice sounds pained, as if it is a hard thing to admit, losing control. "It won't happen again, Emmie."

I nod, then realize he can't see me. "Okay." I've forgiven him completely; no other guy I've known has ever made me feel like this, and it's nearly frightening. "Are we still going out tonight?"

"Yes, if you still want to--"

"Of course!" I'm too eager.

"Actually," I hear him shifting position, whereever he is. "Can I pick you up a little earlier? Say, five? We can go to dinner, too."

My heart does a somersault even though I'm firmly ordering it not to. I force my voice to stay calm and answer, "Sure. That's fine."

"Good, Emmie," he replies, his voice velvet soft. "See you then."

"Good-bye." Why do I whisper?

We hang up. I glance at the clock: it's noon. I eat a sandwich and down a mug of Tazo Awake tea, then walk up the stairs to my room, taking them two at a time.

I enter the bathroom and turn the bath faucet on hot, then undress to soak in the bath. It's not until I turn around while the water fills up and find my reflection staring back at me that I wonder if it's smart to have fallen in love with Jager. (Because I know it is love.)

Jager's a vampire.

I'm an unhappy, possibly suicidal, human.

What could he possibly want with me?