AN: Hello! Here we go, chapter 7! Hopefully only one or two more chaps to go.
Huge thank you to Lillithgarden for betaing on this one!
Enjoy!
Chap. 7
A couple of hours later, Peter is walking around the Godfrey's kitchen with a platter of so-called "canapés" in his hands. The fancy little things smell weird in his opinion but what the hell; rich people right?
Peter is way out of his comfort zone and that's saying something knowing how far said zone reaches. It's mostly due to the fact that he's in Olivia's home and he might never get out of it alive. But it's also because shortly after arriving, he has been instructed to change into proper work clothes that make him look like a French waiter- meaning, freaking retarded. Plus, his black cotton pants are incredibly itchy. All in all, his life has gone from bad to worst in the 5 minutes it took to put the damn things on.
"It's probably best that you stay in the kitchen for now Peter." Marina tells him, after he is done arranging a couple of platters. "We wouldn't want you to stand out too much, right?"
At least the girl's stopped calling him "Mr. Peter": it looked suspicious to the others and it made Peter feel old. Shit though, who feels old at only nineteen? If he gets out of this alive, Peter is going to have to rethink his life.
"No one's here yet. But after the guests have arrived, we've received instructions to start wearing these." Marina shows him a couple of identical white masks that are piled up on a corner table, "so you'll blend in easily."
Peter sends her an interrogative look and Marina shrugs.
"Don't ask me why we're supposed to put them on, they're part of the outfit I guess!" She tells him, gesturing at her own waitress attire.
Peter doesn't like this and not just because wearing masks is stupid. He has a bad feeling again: something's about to go wrong. The wolf is screaming at him to run, as fast as he can, away from the thick dreary atmosphere that surrounds the entire Godfrey property.
It takes all of his self control to nod at Marina casually, to pretend like he's totally confident about their crazy situation and that nothing is wrong.
He'd give anything for a smoke but he doesn't dare leave the kitchen. So he begins pacing around, cleaning dishes and arranging food, trying his best keeping his mind busy. After what seems like an eternity, a tall man dressed in what seems to be an expansive suit like the ones Roman wears, enters the kitchen. He is followed by the rest of the help who had been out in the reception area arranging the final details of the evening with the hostess.
Mr. Fancy gathers the group of workers in front of him and requests their complete attention.
"Is everyone here?" He asks when all the staff members are quiet, all the while looking around like he's counting them. "Alright then. This evening, your job is to remain discreet, unless one of the guests asks for something directly, in which case, you are allowed to speak. You cannot go upstairs. No matter what anyone asks of you, you will comply. You will not feel any pain or fear. You will not find anything unusual, nor will you comment on anything. You will do your job and serve every guest at you best capacity."
As he speaks, Peter realizes the obvious, which is that the man is clearly an upir. If the odd, captivating good looks aren't a big enough hint, the threat Peter feels at having the guy near finish convincing him. Plus, he has this look in his eyes. Peter's seen it before. The man is doing that mind trick thing Roman does!
Well shit.
"When I tell you to, you will go home, go to sleep and tomorrow, you'll have forgotten everything about tonight. The only thing you'll remember is that the party was long, boring and that nothing eventful happened. Now, get to work."
Seeing his staff getting to their respective tasks, the Upir exits the kitchen looking smug.
And now Peter's sure they've all been hypnotised or whatever it's called. Because if that speech wasn't suspicious, Peter doesn't know what is and yet no one is commenting on it or looking particularly intrigued. Nope, it's simply business as usual. The man told them they shouldn't fear anything or feel any pain! Everyone knows that's code for "run while you still can, fools!" Seriously, is he really the only one who gets that?
Maybe the others do have question but just can't ask them… It's not like he's talking to anyone about what's just happened. He is standing there though, while the rest of the team is reaching for their masks. Peter makes his way towards Marina, testing the limits of what he can still accomplish.
"What should I do?" He whispers to the young girl when he is near her. "Should I stay in here for a little while longer?"
But Marina doesn't even look like she's heard him. She brushes past him, grabs a tray of champagne glasses and exits the kitchen like she's on a mission.
"Fuck!" Peter thinks to himself.
Everyone is busy with his or her work, good little ants at work as if trapped in their own bubble. There are no words being exchanged, not even looks between people who, just minutes ago, had been friendly toward each other.
Well, that's it. He's doomed! Peter pictures himself having to refill Olivia's glass right before having his neck snapped in two.
And then it hits him. He's not working. He's not preparing anything, he's not helping anyone… he's not cooking or washing or serving! He's standing still! Does this mean…?! Maybe! He just spoke to Marina after all! And she isn't a guest
"Hey guys! This place blows, let's get the hell out!" He exclaims out loud, right before slipping a little cheese soufflé into his mouth just to see if he can.
Unsurprisingly, no one responds nor look his way. But suddenly, that doesn't matter as much as it did a few seconds age. Because the fact that Peter is still able to do what he wants is confirmed! He doesn't feel obligated to work. He knows he can leave, or you know try, if he wants to! But why? Why hasn't the upir compulsion worked in him? Was it because the man wasn't getting enough eye contact, trying to control all those people at once?
Peter doesn't have time to think about this too much. Right now, he needs a plan. He hasn't ran into Olivia yet which is nothing short of miracle but he knows he needs to make his way up to Roman's room soon or his luck will probably abandon him.
He grabs one of the white masks and puts it on. If he walks around as a waiter, tending to the guests, it'll give him an opportunity to look around, perhaps create a distraction and seize his chance to get upstairs when no one's looking. All he has to do is stay away from Olivia, and any other upir that may be at the party. Stay close to human guests is the plan!
Decidedly, Peter takes hold of a food tray and leaves the kitchen, bracing himself for what's about to come next. And yet nothing could have prepared him for what he witnesses when he arrives in the reception area.
Dim light emanating from the crystal chandeliers above him illuminate the strangest, most bizarre scenery Peter has ever seen. He almost drops his tray in shock, as he is now standing in the middle of what seems to be a exclusive upir free-pass event. The entire house is crawling with them and they do not seem to be very intent on hiding what they are. All are well dressed, all are looking hungry and eager to feed. Yet the copious platters of food seem much less appealing to that crowd than the humans carrying them. One of the first thing Peter sees is a man fucking one of the girl from the staff against a wall, who's open wrists leave traces of blood running against the white background. Ill at ease, he ignores them and walks a little further into the den of horror that has become the Godfrey mansion, taking in each and every sickening interaction between the guests and the servants as stoically as he can.
On a table lays another waitress, completely bare, a group of upirs standing above her and arranging food all over her body. A bit further, a waiter has been rid of his tray and shirt, and is standing, half-naked within a group of three beasts, who are licking away the blood spilling from wounds they are likely to have caused. All the while, the poor guy is being fed little tarts by a fourth party, an extremely beautiful woman, who is cruelly amusing herself by throwing the food into his open mouth. Peter shudders at the emptiness in the boy's eyes. He is completely unfazed by what is being done to him. He isn't chewing on the tarts that do end up in his mouth, so residues of food and spit are falling in the hair of the three bloodsuckers, too busy drinking from him to notice. Peter's seen his fair share of gore but this particular atmosphere is just too wrong and he feels nauseous.
Music is blazing and bottles are being spilled all about, and there, in the middle of it all, is Olivia. She is spread on a leather couch, pupils half-closed, apparently semi-conscious. Peter frowns, but then he spots a familiar glass eyedropper in her hand. She must have used too much of the stuff. He wonders who sold it to her and mentally thank the person for it.
With Olivia out of commotion, Peter thinks he has a better chance of getting to the first floor without anyone noticing. He decides to carefully make his way to the stairs now, unwilling to witness anymore of this. Plus, he risks Olivia snapping out of her trance if he waits too long. Now's his chance!
He slowly walks to the house's entrance, where he knows the staircase is located. But on his way, he finds Marina. She is being undressed by a man, who's fangs are showing and who is clearly about to bite her. This nearly has Peter blowing his cover. Luckily a gorgeous redhead butts in and stops the whole thing.
"You heard what Erik said!" She tells the man as Peter passed by them. "No bites."
Peter stops himself from looking back to check if Marina is being released. The man that has hypnotized the entire crew earlier said that they should go home after the party and forget everything the next day. He wouldn't have bothered giving these instructions if the plan was to eat away the entire staff. So there's hope… And if he finds Roman maybe they can stop this whole blood-binge-slash-orgy together?
Or… maybe Roman would join in.!
No, he isn't like that! If he were, Peter wouldn't have bothered flying all the way back from Romania just to check on him.
Finally, Peter reaches the stairs. Luckily for him, no one is standing at the bottom, so he seizes his chance and quickly attempts to make his way up. But halfway there, he falls face to face with two guests, a young handsome couple which could almost cute holding hands like this if it wasn't for the fact that both parties are looking at Peter like he is a delicious piece of meat.
"Well what have we here?" The woman says. "This little one seems to have gotten lost!"
"This part of the house is of limits!" The man adds. "Where do you think you're going?" he asks Peter.
Trying to think as fast as he can of a good excuse to go about his way, Peter replies, in what he hopes is a convincing tone:
"Getting some ice."
And then he realizes that he just came up with the worst excuse in the world. And sadly so does his two news friends.
"Ice?" The man asks, suspiciously.
"He's lying!" The woman adds.
She grabs Peter's mask, takes it off in a quick, swift movement and looks him over with a piercing gaze. Finally she smirks.
"He's cute!" She tells her companion, appreciatively.
And then she runs her tongue across her lips, which is probably one of the scariest sight Peter has ever seen.
He definitely needs to rethink his life.
"He's also a werewolf!" The man deduces. "I can smell it off him.
The woman clasps her hands excitedly.
"Wonderful! I never had a werewolf in my bed before! How about we entertain him this evening?"
But her smile drops when she notices something from behind Peter. Instinctively, and before thinking it through, Peter turns around to see what that is. The man in the suit that was in the kitchen earlier is looking at them from the bottom of the stairs.
"What is this?" He demands, looking unpleased.
Peter hears the woman gulp next to him. He thinks it's a bad sign. Her companion grabs him by the shoulder and forces him down the stairs.
"We caught this one going upstairs. We thought it strange and we tried to intercept him!"
"That's not possible!" The man in the suit snarls. " I extazed(1) all of them before the evening started and they are under strict instructions to remain downstairs."
"Maybe you're losing you're touch Erik!" The woman jokes while making her way down next to them.
The man, Erik, sends her a dead look.
"Or maybe you're lying Irene, and you two were the ones going upstairs!" He declares.
He takes a long thoughtful look at Peter.
"A werewolf!" He whispers, with a small grimace.
Peter drops his gaze, careful not to look him in the eyes. He was lucky enough to escape this man's mental tricks once, he might not be so lucky the second time. Unfortunately, his action doesn't go unnoticed. Erik grabs him by the hair and forces Peter to look at him.
"You obviously know how this works!" he snaps at him. "So you also know you have no choice but to answer me. Why are you here?"
Peter keeps his mouth shut and sends the guy a death glare. He's probably Olivia's new boyfriend. He misses Norman.
"Hum. I guess you're right!" Erik tells the couple, sounding genuinely surprised. "It's not working!"
"He's a werewolf!" Irene butts in unhelpfully. "Maybe we can't extaze werewolves?"
Erik rolls his eyes.
"Of course we can!" He turns to Peter and tightens his hold on him. "Somehow you've found a way to fight of our mind control. How?"
"I don't know!" Peter blurts out honestly.
"You don't know…" His captor looks thoughtfully at him, searching his expression. "You're telling the truth."
"Clearly he was going to rob you Erik!" The other, younger man says. "Can we bite him? Please?"
"Please Erik?" Irene adds.
Peter winces in discomfort.
"I've never much cared for werewolves. But this one intrigues me! I want to know his secret!" Erik replies.
"I can't tell you my secret if I'm dead!" Peter tries to argue.
Erik sighs.
"Very well then!" He says, slightly releasing pressure from his grip on Peter. "What's your business here wolf?"
Peter hesitates. If this guy's Olivia's new boyfriend or something, and if she is in fact holding Roman and the others captive than he can't tell the guy what he's really doing here. So what can he say?
"Were you planning on robbing my daughter?" Erik asks. "Because then I can't let you live. Surely she won't mind if one of the staff members doesn't make it!"
Peter blinks at the man in shock. Did he just say Olivia was he's daughter? Than that means…
"You're Roman's grandfather?!" Peter blurts out in shock before thinking, again, that he probably should have kept his mouth shout. This evening definitely wasn't the smartest he's even been.
"Who's Roman?" Irene's boyfriend asks, confused.
Erik crooks his head and looks at Peter curiously, ignoring his two companions.
"You know Roman?" He asks Peter.
He must find something he likes in Peter's gaze because he goes on a little more warmly:
"You're his friend!"
For a moment he seems lost in his thoughts but then he snaps back into focus and exclaims:
"And you're a werewolf!" Erik's eye pop up like he's just had some sort of epiphany and then he asks excitedly. "Wait…PATRICK?!"
Peter blinks. Irene and her boyfriend blink. Erik stares at Peter eagerly and Peter finally says:
"What?"
Erik eyebrows furrow.
"Wait, it's not Patrick… What did he say the name was again? Huh… Paul? Parker?" He snaps his fingers. "PETER! That's it! You are Peter, right?" He adds, seemingly happy with himself.
Peter looks at the other man in confusion.
"Well… yeah." He concedes.
In his defence, Erik is looking even scarier than he did a minute ago when he was threatening him. Now he has this joyful expression like he's about to kiss Peter in glee. It's positively horrifying.
"Olivia was right!" Erik exclaims. "It was you! That's explains why none of us can make you do anything!"
"I don't understand…" Peter confesses, even though that might not be the best idea.
"You will!" Erik presses. "You should go see Roman!"
"You're seriously going to let this one slide?" Irene asks, petulantly. "Don't be a fool Erik! This kid is messing with you, let's just have him for diner!"
Erik smiles at Peter before turning around to face the couple. It looks like he's is going to answer them but instead, before they have a chance to defend themselves, he moves so quickly that Peter's eye almost misses it, and plunges his hands inside the two upirs's chests, snatching out their hearts.
"Can you believe these two?" He asks Peter, turning back around. "Very rude! We've been friends for years and this is how they act in our home!" He makes a sound of disgust and bites into Irene's organ. "It's not as tasty as a human heart but it's still pleasant! Would you like a bite?" He offers Peter, chewing enthusiastically.
"No thank you!" Peter replies, trying not to grimace.
"I forget, you wolves don't eat real food unless you're turned. I can freeze it for you until the next full moon if you'd like? Anything for a friend of the family!" Erik offers brightly.
Peter scratches his throat in awkwardness.
"You don't have to… go through all the trouble!" He answers, trying to remain as polite as he can to the man who eats the hearts of the people who irritate him.
"No trouble!" Erik says. He waves at the staircase. "But don't let me keep you. He's in his room."
Feeling like his luck is probably going to abandon him in the near future, Peter nods and promptly make his way up the stairs before Erik can change his mind and decide to have him for desert.
He hadn't been to Roman's house often but he remembers where his bedroom is located nonetheless and makes his way to the door without incident. Placing his ear against the wood panel he tries knocking but hearing nothing on the other side, he decides to go in without invitation.
Having closed the door behind him in case someone walks by, his eyes take a few seconds to get accustomed to the darkness. Finally, he makes out the lines of his surroundings and manages to find a light switch.
He instantly spots Roman who is lying in his bed, motionless. Peter hurries to his side but than hesitates on what to do when he is actually close enough to touch him. Roman looks sickly pale, and he has bags about three inches long under his eyes, which dark colour is a painful reminder of his now bluish lips. His cheekbones seem unnaturally prominent, probably due to weight loss, and his breathing is so slow that he could easily be mistaken for dead to someone who doesn't possess Peter's extremely sensitive hearing. Despite everything, he looks young like this…young and on the verge of death. And all of it feels fucking wrong to Peter. He shouldn't be feeling so old and Roman shouldn't be looking so young, like he does now, underneath his blankets. None of them should be in this situation. Roman should be awake and well, and the two of them should be away from this dreaded place, both safe and free. It's just not right, Peter thinks. His throat burns and wants to hit something. Instead, Peter brushes Roman's forehead with his fingers but the later remains still and undisturbed. There's something just completely unfair about the whole damn thing.
Gathering his courage, Peter kneels besides him and tries shaking Roman awake. He doesn't know what to do but he thinks the first step is getting the hell out of here. If he can't get Roman up, he'll have to find Shelley to help carry him. He's about to go to her when, finally, Roman eyes flutter open. Peter is so relieved by the sight he almost laughs.
"What are doing here?" Roman croaks, taking in Peter's form by his side.
"Hi!" Peter responds, admittedly, pretty lamely.
Roman inhales deeply, than shuts his eyes and groans, like the act of breathing pains him.
"You have to go!" He declares, weakly trying to move to the other side of his bed, the one where Peter's not.
"No shit!" Peter replies, ignoring the movement. "This place is even gloomier than I remembered."
Firmly, he takes Roman's arm and places it around his neck, than encircles his back and tries to help him sit up.
"What are you doing?" Roman protests against Peter's neck, to where his face has fallen limply.
"Taking you home!"
This earns him another groan from Roman but he doesn't add anything else. Instead his body begins to burst in small shakes against Peter's frame. And Peter can't pretend like he isn't scared anymore because his comfort zone is so far gone by now it's not even funny. Since when do upirs become sick and look dead and start shaking?!
"Roman?" he asks, pushing his friend upright. "You're still with me?" The You're should be You instead. Your use of the contraction fits in other places you've used it, but not here.
"You smell good!" Roman complains, sounding delirious.
Peter sighs because he knew his luck would run out but he'd foolishly hoped it wouldn't be so soon. And then he realizes something. By 'you', Roman means, 'your blood'.
"You're hungry!" Peter exclaims, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He can deal with hunger. "That's why you're so weak! Has Olivia been starving you? That's it isn't it?" he adds, now certain of his deductions.
He brings his wrist to Roman's mouth.
"Here!" He says in the most enthusiastic tone he's used in a long while. Roman's not dying, he simply needs to feed and all will be right with the world. "Drink up!"
His offer seems to reawaken Roman a bit, who's eyes snap up to Peter's in horror. He shakes his head violently.
"It's cool!" Peter insists. "Really!"
Roman tries to push him off with what little strength he seems to have left.
"Just leave Peter!" he mumbles with his eyes closing, like he's about to pass out again.
Frowning, Peter helps him lie back down on the bed before quickly looking around the room for any form of sharp objects. Seeing nothing of the sort, he grabs a glass that is standing on the bed table and, hoping there's enough music downstairs to cover the noise, throws it violently on the floor. As expected, it breaks in plenty of pieces. Carefully, Peter looks for the biggest, pointiest one he can find and, when satisfied, spreads its tip against the soft skin of his wrist. He settles back next to Roman and, helping him up again, brings his lips against the blood that is slowly running across his arm.
For a second, nothing happens.
Then, Roman's eyes shoot open. He grabs onto Peter's arm with a bone-crushing force and sinks his teeth violently through his veins.
It isn't nearly as pleasant as the last time they'd done this
Roman, on the other hand, seems to be highly enjoying the moment as he is practically crying in relief, with his eyes rolling at the back of his head. Peter tries not to dwell on how much it makes him look like a drug addict who's been denied his fix for too long.
Suddenly, and Peter isn't too sure how this happens, he find himself pinned down on the mattress with Roman leaning threateningly on top of him and looking like he's about to eat him. Peter doesn't get the chance to have a normal reaction, like fear for instance, because Roman, firmly holding up his arms, plunges his fangs into Peter's neck.
And then it's happening all over again.
The heat. The want. The need. In just a few seconds that is all Peter feels; all-consuming, even stronger than the time before. Peter's breathing becomes uneven, then erratic. He reaches for Roman, and runs his hands slowly up his back enjoying the feel of his skin underneath his palms. He's not even sure where he is anymore or what he's name is and he doesn't even care.
A strangle moan escape his lips and Roman instantly backs away from him. The loss of contact is unbearable.
"Shit!" Roman exclaims, staring at Peter in horror, realizing what he's done. "Shit Peter! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
His hands are shaking, his eyes fixated on Peter's bleeding neck.
"Here!" Roman applies a piece of cloth to the wound and grabs Peter's hand, putting it in place. "Hold still!"
He gets off the bed and walks towards the door, away from Peter.
Again.
Just like last time.
Hell no!
Peter jumps back up so quickly even Roman doesn't have time to turn around to realize what's happening. In a second Peter catches up with him and pushes his body so violently that Roman has to put his hands upwards otherwise his head would have hit the wall.
"Peter!" He protests.
He is trapped against his bedroom door, trying to free himself in order to look back at his assaulter.
Peter doesn't respond instead his hands run jerkily across Roman chest, attempting to remove his t-shirt the quickest way possible.
"What are you doing?" Roman gasps, turned around abruptly by Peter who is trying to have better access to the front of his pants.
Roman shakes him off and he can finally look at Peter. He is about to speak again but his words get stuck in throat when their eyes meet. His gaze switches from shock to hesitation. He says Peter's name again, more softly this time, not quite a protest but something closer to a question. Peter's mind is so clouded with want it's almost too difficult for him to speak. But he knows he must.
"I want to fuck you!" He seethes in a commanding which leaves absolutely no room for discussion. "Now!"
Roman's body begins to tremble underneath Peter's eager hands, who have resumed their previous activity. He makes a weakly sound of protest but he lets Peter undress him frantically, like his entire life now depends on Roman's compliance. Peter is pleased to see him hard when is done with his work. An animalistic smirk spreads on his lips and Roman raises an eyebrow when he notices the expression, daring him to say something with a look. And then he grabs Peter by the hair, brings him close and bites his lower lip forcefully.
In retaliation, Peter slams his body against his and Roman's back hits the wall.
"Shit!" He says again as he tries, and succeeds, to rip off Peter's shirt.
Peter laughs and spreads Roman's legs by pushing his hips against his mimicking the sexual act with his pants still on. The strangle sounds Roman make gives him encouragements he didn't even know he needed but which does things to him he'd never felt before.
"I…I didn't know you wanted this!" Roman groans, his eyes half closed.
Peter snickers and takes hold of his erection.
"Neither did I!" He replies, rubbing him without mercy.
Roman moans and buries himself more deeply inside Peter's hand, who feels something inside of him twitch with unbearable need.
He turns Roman back around and presses himself against him.
"What are you waiting for?" Roman gasps as Peter clenches his hands on his hips.
Seconds later his fists slams against the wall.
"Shit!" He groans.
A small part of Peter's brain registers that Roman must be in pain and he slides out of him carefully, before quickly coming back in, only slightly less brutally. He is encouraged when Roman places a hand on his lower back and so Peter starts to move inside of him, breathing erratically against his neck.
"Fuck!" Roman moans and the sound added to everything Peter feels is too much and he starts to shake. His entire body tenses up and a white veil passes before his eyes as pleasure hits him in full force. He comes inside of Roman with the sound of a wounded animal.
Roman turns around and smirks cruelly.
"Really?" He mocks.
"Don't worry!" Peter whispers into his ear. "We're not nearly done yet."
Hours later, he falls asleep by Roman's side, probably the happiest he's been in his life.
-HG-
Peter wakes up in his room at Destiny's place. He feels a little disoriented at first since he hasn't waken up there in a while. He takes a long look around and gets out of bed slowly.
For a second, something feels wrong to Peter. He doesn't remember how he got there.! He remembers getting out of the airport, getting into a taxi, driving to Destiny's…
And then the strange feeling is replaced by a sense of calm. He's home. Everything's alright.
Stretching out his arms, Peter walks to the kitchen eager for some coffee, whistling a joyful little tune along the way.
"Finally! He rises!" Destiny jokes when she sees Peter arrive.
"Hey cous' !" Peter greets her, flashing a bright, Colgate-white smile in her direction.
His cousin responds by giving him an intrigued and kind of calculating look, before serving him a cup of coffee.
"So… how was your flight? You were too tired to talk about it when you arrived earlier.!"
Peter thinks, remembers there's nothing to tell about his trip, and shrugs.
"Fine!" He replies. "Do we have any pop tarts?"
Destiny puts one in the toaster without taking her eyes off Peter.
"Can we talk about… why you're back?" She asks carefully.
Peter smiles.
"What do you mean?" He asks, eagerly stuffing food in his mouth.
"I mean… didn't we decide that you were better off in Romania with Lynda? You know after the whole… incident."
Peter tries to think. He doesn't really know why he's back. Just that he is and all is good.
"Ok stop!" Destiny snaps at him. "You look… happy! It's freaking me out…!"
Her outburst makes Peter laugh.
"Seriously!" His cousin insists gesturing annoyingly at him. "You're all smiley. Is there something I need to know?"
Peter does feel happy. He is in fact in an excellent mood. Which, come to think of it, is kind of weird because he has no idea why. Well, who the hell cares? Maybe he's just well rested from a good night of sleep.! Yeah, that's it!
"Nope!" He replies honestly. "Nothing to tell."
End of Chap. 7
AN: Hope you like it! Thoughts?
Many thanks to everyone who reviews and/or gave kudos!
(1): I've read that "extaze" is what they call it in the book. I haven't actually read the book though, so if any one has and finds that this isn't correct don't hesitate to let me know!