Is it wrong to love a vampire?

Chapter 22

 It's the 26th of July. Georgia has been gone for 10 weeks. The weight of his failure crushes Jet. They have been searching for a way into Nick's fortress for 10 long weeks. He can hear a low growl and looks outside to the pale wolf pacing across the grass. Chad had a stupid grin on his face as she shifted back to her human form.

'Again.' Chad chants.

Jet looks to the bush beyond, the pale trees signifying the gateway to his loss. He moves away, twisted by the beautiful day outside and the storm brewing within him. He dropped his heat, falling back into the couch beneath him. Tormented by the possibilities of what's happening to Georgia. At least her father had stopped calling, appeased for now.

'This is my fault.' Jet whispered to the empty space.

'Jet.' Sam's voice echoed throughout the room.

'In here.' He yelled back, swallowing his helplessness.

Sam's shoes squeaked against the floorboards as she ran towards him. She looked him over, the paleness of his face, his usual bright eyes now clouded and sunken. The sight of his cracked lips brought a sharp intake of breath.

'Jethro, have you fed?' Sam asked, her eyes already knew his answer.

His body tensed, the weakened muscles rippling under his shirt but he couldn't tell her the truth. He knew how it would sound.

'You haven't, have you?' Sam's tone was soft and comforting, his insides groaned at his deceit.

'No, not for the last few days.' He replied, looking down at his empty arms.

He could feel Sam's stiffness behind him like he'd slapped her. He didn't watch as she left, her shoes squeaking away. Aly's laugh from outside ripped him apart, he needed to get away from it. He stormed out of the room and up to his bedroom. Slamming the door with such force that the whole room shook. He had hoped that it would silence her joy. But that laugh drifted towards him, like a bloodhound on the scent. The rage bubbled beneath him, brewing within his chest and melting out to his joints. He threw his fist into the wall, easily crumbling the plaster board and ending in the soft wool insulation. He grabbed a handful and ripped it out. He panted, staring at that black hole. The blue paint cracked and disintegrating, showing the white filling of the wall. Jet fell back on the bed, smearing his thick blood across his doona cover, he didn't care. Nothing mattered, not now, not without Georgia. His eyes drilled into the hole, reflecting that festering hole in his own heart. Pain and hate swirled like dancers through his body, flattening his hope of ever getting her back. He looked away from his despair and saw himself in the mirror. His hair hung limp, dry and brittle and he looked far too thin, his skin clammy. His body was crying out for blood. This is what Nick had done to him and Jet's face hardened, his mouth a hard line. He wouldn't let Nick win, not when there was still a chance.

Georgia sat at the desk, her head bent in concentration. Nick looked on through the one-way mirror.

'Isabella' He called out to her.

Light footsteps padded down the hall and opened the door. Her blonde curls appeared.

'What?' Isabella scowled.

'What is she doing?' He asked nodding to Georgia.

'She's writing.' Isabella said, giving him a frustrated look.

'What about?' Nick gazed through the mirror.

'Who cares.' Isabella shrugged, shutting the door behind her.