the beautiful grave (book II)

fragile

frost

Frost wanted nothing more than to follow his instincts and appear to Lily in her dorm room, but a part inside his head told him she'd prefer otherwise. She and him may have had a couple of heart-to-hearts together over the past few days, but she still hadn't recovered full memory of him yet. Besides, it was without doubt the two angels were with her already, apparently she thought they were all she needed at a time like this.

     He shook his head in frustration, believing differently. He could be her everything – just two weeks ago he had been. Shown her the most remarkable things about herself, that no matter how whiny or mystifying she was... he'd loved her all the same. Not for her perfect good looks or long legs, her beautiful glowing blonde hair or dazzling smile.

     No, he'd fallen in love with the girl who laughed at his jokes no matter how dire they were. She also accepted his nature gracefully, awed by his appearance rather than terrified. He'd grown obsessed with the creature living inside her, and in hopes of pulling it out, spent time with her and realized she was the brightest and greatest thing he'd ever have in his life.

     He'd never wanted, or craved, the love of a person so much.

     Once he was back in his lair, he directly approached the fridge, snatching up a blood bag. No hesitance whatsoever, he ripped it open and hurled it back.

     The liquid seeped down his throat, cold and refreshing. True, it was better warm, but this was the best he'd get for a while. Ever since Lily died, he couldn't get in the mood to feed from humans.

     If he finally found that missing piece, he would, but for now... this would just have to do.

     He was by himself and his thoughts for all of a minute before someone knocked on his door. It was like a drum beat in his ears and stung at first, but then tuning in softened it down a little.

     He didn't feel like talking to anyone, but in case it was something important, he couldn't not answer.

     Groaning, he put the bag down, wiped his mouth and progressed towards the entrance.

     Blue hair shone in the bright light of the hallway.

     "I figured you didn't want to be alone." Skye smirked, one eyebrow raised.

     He motioned she come in, although she was probably the last face he wanted to see. He was ashamed of what he had done to her, practically used her then left her on her own, as if she'd been another one of his conquests. He wasn't that beast anymore, he was long forgotten, or, at least, he thought he had been.

     Besides, as much as he hated it, he liked Skye. She was blunt and aloof, similar to what he'd been like when he was human himself.

     He remembered how that, writers and the public media, thought once a person changed into a vampire they would lose their humanity and its emotions. Truth was, they were enhanced.

     If Skye were to ever turn, he doubted she'd be different at all. There was no emotion to intensify.

     "I can handle myself fine, but I already gathered that's not why you're here." He pocketed his hands, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

     "Krista's quite the odd one, isn't she?"

     What was she getting at? She had no right to call anybody strange.

     Sensing his confusion, she bounced gracefully towards his table, carefully picking up the blood bag and juggling it between her hands, as if she was having trouble trying to think.