And time. The five minutes were up. I forced myself to use my finger to swipe it up rather than just licking it. My tongue darted out to catch the drop. My eyes closed in bliss. So good.
I recapped the bottle, putting it back in the fridge where it had plenty of company.
Feeling good now that I’d had a top up, I changed into a pair of pink flannel pants and a loose t-shirt before grabbing a bag of chips and settling onto the couch.
What should I watch tonight? I’d just finished a sci-fi show last night and was in the mood for something different. Drama? Nah, I needed something a little more light hearted than that.
I navigated to one of the funnier shows on my list and sat back, prepared to follow Nathan Fillion around as he solved crime while keeping up a running stream of banter with his female costar.
CHAPTER TWO
THE ODOR OF burned meat called me from my death-like slumber. Under that smell, another one tantalized and teased. Drool pooled in my mouth. Whatever it was promised relief from this fire consuming my throat.
Someone was in my apartment.
My eyes still closed, I held myself still while every instinct urged me to track down the source of the temptation.
The sound of fat sizzled on the stove.
My gums ached. The fangs starting to slide out. My fingers clenched around my pillow as I wrestled with my inner hunger. My thoughts spiraled down to blood. Need. Thirst. My skin suddenly too tight for my body. I shivered.
“Aileen, you up yet? It’s nearly eight PM,” my sister said from the bedroom doorway. “I know how much you like to sleep, but this is ridiculous. Even for you.”
I didn’t answer, curling tighter into a ball.
I would not eat my sister. I would not eat my sister. No matter how obnoxious I found her sometimes.
I held myself very still, afraid that even one small movement would cause me to snap.
At last, her footsteps receded down the hall.
With the promise of yummy, warm blood fading to more tolerable levels, I cautiously uncurled from my ball.
Shit. What the hell was she doing here? I’d told everyone in my family that drop-ins were not welcome under any circumstance.
Didn’t matter right now.
I needed to focus. I sat up and slid my feet to the floor. The craving was growing every moment that smell teased my senses. I needed to get to my wine bottle and top off. Once I’d taken care of my hunger, I wouldn’t be tempted to drain my sister.
Yes. I just had to get to the blood, then everything would be alright.
I shuffled down the hall, moving as slowly and carefully as my eighty-year-old, arthritic grandma. Even with my focus rapt on the fridge, I could hear Jenna’s heartbeat. It was such a lovely sound. I could dance to it, swaying to the rhythm.
Before I’d realized it, I was several steps closer to her. I stopped and gripped the counter, my fingertips digging into the plastic.
I refused to eat my sister. I backtracked, heading for the fridge. This night would not begin in a bloodbath.
The fridge’s handle was cool in my hand, I opened it and bent down to find nothing. I shuffled the few items inside around to be sure. Nope. It wasn’t there.
“Where’s the wine bottle?” My voice was rough and harsh to my ears.
There was a moment of silence. I resisted the urge to look at Jenna. I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t attack her.
“Jenna?”
“I thought we could do without the wine tonight.”
She thought. I rested my forehead against the freezer door. The fridge handle creaked ominously in my hand.
