by DD Prince
What’s wrong with me?
She imagined it felt like something like giving birth would feel.
When he climbed in beside her, he pulled her close, “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“I-I dunno; I’ve never had pain like this --- ever.”
“That does it; that’s where we’re going.” He loosened his tie at his throat and undid a button. He was red-faced.
“Can’t we just go home, get me some Advil and see if that works? And do your diagnostic skills give you any clue?”
He flicked on the interior light and looked at her in the eye, sniffed her throat, and shook his head, “It doesn’t smell like any of the usual suspects.” He felt her stomach and pushed down gently, “I don’t think it’s your appendix.” He felt her forehead, then opened the divider window and told the driver to take them back to the apartment.
“I think maybe we’ll take you home and see how you do. Are you feeling any better, any worse?”
“About the same.” She leaned against him and closed her eyes.
A gripping pain sliced through her belly. She groaned, grabbing her abdomen. A few minutes later, the car stopped in front of the building and he led her inside. The elevator ride felt like it took eons. Tristan lifted her up into his arms when the elevator stopped and carried her down the hall, into the apartment, and directly upstairs to the bed. He looked pale with worry.
Kyla slipped her shoes off and lay down on the bed in the fetal position. A moment later he was giving her a glass of water and some pills. She drank and lay down and closed her eyes. She could hear him on the phone.
“Of course I realize how it’s gonna look but I’m not leaving her until I know what this is. Someone threatened her life last night with that fire, so I don’t know if this is another attack. Say I’m dealing with a crisis and I’ll be back soon.”
She slid into slumber thinking it was odd that Tristan hadn’t let Sam in on his fire plan. Clearly, he didn’t trust him completely.
13
“How long have I been sleeping?” She opened her eyes and saw he was looking out the window, his tux jacket off, top 2 buttons of his shirt undone, bowtie, gone, and his sleeves rolled up. He took a swig from a glass.
“About 2 hours. How do you feel?” He put down the almost empty tumbler and closed the distance between them to feel her forehead.
“I don’t have a fever, I don’t think.”
“No, you don’t.” He looked perplexed and tense.
“The pain is a bit less, I think. It’s just dull. I have to use the bathroom.” Kyla got up and kissed his cheek and then climbed off the bed and walked into the ensuite bathroom.
She saw by her reflection that her hair was a mess and her smoky eye make-up was now smeared into oblivion. She took the remaining jewelry off and took her hair the rest of the way down. She sat down to pee, sweeping a wet washcloth across her eyelids while she did. Then she unravelled a wad of toilet paper and reached to wipe herself but as soon as she wiped, the tissue slid. She looked at it and saw red.
My period?
Could that be what this was all about? If so, those were the worst period pains ever. Was it the birth control shot that caused this?
The thong panties around her ankles wouldn’t do so she stepped out of them and put them in a hamper beside the tub. She decided to look in the bags back in the bedroom that had been brought from the house to see if she could find some non-thong panties to wear.
Tristan had his back to her, on the phone. She squatted and started rummaging through an opened suitcase on the floor. As she found a pair of bikini cut panties that would do the trick he spun around and his eyes were wide.
The phone dropped to the floor. “I’ll need some feminine hygiene products,” she muttered, glancing in the direction of the phone laying on the floor, “I think I know why I was in so much pain. Not that it’s ever been this bad but maybe it has something to do with that birth control shot you gave me.” Her voice was full of judgement. She looked up at him, curious about why he wasn’t picking up his phone. “My period, if you haven’t guessed. I hate to send you out to buy tampons for me this early in our relationship but…”
Suddenly he was directly in front of her and had the strangest look on his face.
She felt like the hairs on her neck, her arms, everywhere, were standing on end. It was as if the air was magnetically charged, staticky, and a storm was imminent.
“You okay?” Her voice was a whisper. She rose to stand, looked back at the phone on the floor again and frowned.
She shivered as he took her by the shoulders and guided her to the bed and in an instant was on top of her, pulling her dress up. His hands felt icy cold. She dropped the panties.
Then he was in between her legs and his mouth was there.
What the fucking fuck? Ew!
His tongue dipped inside her and he groaned. Loud. It felt cold. He looked up at her face, his fangs out, his irises totally black.
Kyla’s blood ran cold. He only faintly even resembled Tristan. His face was contorted, his skin ashen. She scrambled back against the headboard.
He rose up on his knees and reached and he yanked her back to him by the throat, roughly. His mouth was curled into a snarl and his fangs looked even larger than usual.
She let out a gasp. His icy grip tightened. She felt lightheaded.
What on earth? She couldn’t even form coherent thoughts.
He pulled her down so her back was on the bed and held onto her throat with one hand as he leaned over and buried his nose between her legs again.
“Tristan?” Fear gripped her.
He jerked his neck and his black eyes widened and then he let go of her and grabbed his temples. His complexion was ashen. He made a snarling sound and leaned forward, about to lunge. But he didn’t lunge. He was almost bouncing like he was ready to jump at her, but something was holding him back. Kyla quickly scrambled off the bed and ran for the closet. She tripped and hit her face on a dresser. She winced and half crawled, half ran.
She managed to scoop Tristan’s phone off the floor on her way. As she clambered into the closet she saw him sitting on the bed staring at her, sort of past her, his skin looking even grayer, the same black eyes, huge fangs out. He looked confused. She got into the panic room and slammed the door and immediately hit the red button. Instantly, there was a text on his phone,
***Twr P-Room engaged***
Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She knew, from earlier, that Tristan not only had the key, but he had a way with locks. She thought back to all the times she’d locked the bathroom door and he’d opened it without a key. She checked the door. It seemed secure but would that matter?
What was wrong with him? Did the scent of her period blood make him go crazy? Talk about nasty! He’d been acting ‘off’ all night. Was it because of this?
Kyla closed the message and quickly scanned through the contacts on his phone and found Sam’s contact info. She fumbled the laptop open and clicked the desktop icon and then the window popped up and she had a clear view of the bedroom on the screen. Tristan was still sitting there, wild-eyed and he was hyperventilating.
She went to Sam’s voicemail. An automated greeting told her to leave a message at the tone.
“Sam, this is Kyla. I’m in the panic room at the condo. Tristan’s gone crazy. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t know what to do but can you please help? Please hurry.”
She ended the call and put the phone down. She wasn’t sure if Sam would be friend or foe in this situation, but he felt like her only chance. That wasn’t Tristan in there. That wasn’t even the angry monster-like Tristan she’d seen.
What the fuck was that?
His head was bowed so she couldn’t see if he was still in that state or not. She hit a button on the wall for the intercom.
“Tristan?” She called out and instantly wondered if that was a bad idea. Would he go for her in the panic room? He looked up and around, be
wildered. He threw his head in his hands and leaned forward and rocked. She stared at him, awestruck. She went through the slim door to the bathroom and got tissue and wiped between her legs. No more blood. Yet. Her period typically started light and then by the time she was ready to use the bathroom again she was expecting the bleeding to get heavier.
The sting of another cramp spread across her lower abdomen. She leaned under the bed and pulled out a duffle bag. There were some track pants and t-shirts, jeans, a few hoodies, socks, and a few pairs of Tristan’s underwear inside. She took a pair of Tristan’s boxer briefs and went into the bathroom. She wadded up some toilet paper and stuffed it into the briefs and then put them on. She was about to take off her dress and put on one of his tracksuits but then the phone started ringing. The call display read ‘Sam’.
“Hello?” She answered frantically.
“What’s going on?”
“I-I..I’m in the panic room. He’s not himself. I think he was going to kill me… He’s in the bedroom looking awful and rocking and, I think if I hadn’t gotten away he’d have killed me. I think he can get in here, in through the closet. I don’t know how much time I have, I---he’s freezing cold and his skin is gray or almost blue and his eyes are black. My period came, and he acted all freaked out and he, he…”
“Your period came?” Sam whispered.
“Yeah.” Kyla said.
“Freezing cold?”
“Yeah, he’s bluish gray looking and he feels cold, I ---”
“I’ll be right there. Where’s this panic room?”
Kyla felt a stab of fear. Should she trust him to tell him? What choice did she have?
“Kyla, love…where?”
“Uh, the back of the master bedroom closet.”
“Be there as soon as I can.”
“Kay, thanks.”
Kyla leaned against the wall and looked at the monitor. She didn’t know if she’d just made a really dumb move or not. She tried to reach out, in her mind, to Tristan. She tried to send love and affection. She tried really hard to push the fear she felt away. Seeing him sitting there, looking like that, it wasn’t easy. He was still mostly dressed up but with humungous fangs and grayish skin and black eyes. He was staring off into space with his mouth hanging open. She closed her eyes and pictured his blue eyes, his dimples, tried to feel the feelings she’d felt the last time he held her. Tried to feel his warmth, feel safe, and protected. She opened her eyes and looked at the monitor. He stood up.
She looked closer at the screen. It looked like the color was returning to his face. His eyes looked like they might be changing, blue bleeding into the black. His fangs started to recede.
Suddenly, he dashed into the ensuite bathroom. Then he came out and disappeared from the view of the camera. She guessed he’d gone downstairs. Was he looking for her? Was it safe to tell him where she was?
He was back in the camera’s view, “Kyla!” He yelled. He sounded frantic, like he did that night she’d left via the balcony. He was out of view again.
Panic rose. Something in her body started to buzz and pulse. It was a weird sensation. If he knew where she was would she be safe if he opened the door? She’d rather Sam was here to help, if need be. But why would Sam even help her? He wouldn’t care if Tristan killed her, would he? The weird bass-like thrumming inside her got more intense.
His fear-filled face struck something deep inside her; she couldn’t let him freak out and wonder where she was. She hit the intercom button,
“Tristan, it’s okay.”
“Kyla?” He was back in view of the camera. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked toward the camera.
“I’m in the panic room. Stay where you are. Don’t come in yet. I have to talk to you.”
“What?” He looked confused. He headed toward the closet.
“No Tristan, please!” she screamed, her voice ringing with terror.
He stopped cold in his tracks, “What? What’s wrong?”
”You weren’t you. You were gonna hurt me.”
His brows furrowed, “I what?”
“Listen. Please listen. Just wait for Sam to get here. He’s on his way.”
“Sam? Huh?” Tristan shook his head hard, like he was trying to shake something off.
“Please, Tristan. Trust me. Just wait. I’m pretty sure you were going to kill me. Let me stay in here until Sam gets here. I called him from your phone. I got my period. Something about that blood, I think, I think it set you off. It was bad. You went cold and gray and your eyes turned black. You tasted it and then…” She heard loud knocking, “Get that; it’s Sam.”
Tristan frowned and went to answer the door. Kyla felt relief flood through her. He was Tristan, for the moment. After a few minutes she saw both men come into view of the camera. Tristan pointed at it.
“Kyla,” Sam greeted and waved at the camera, “Her menstruating obviously triggered some kind of psychotic response from you so let’s keep her in your panic room right now while we sort this out. Chances are it’s blocking her scent. You give me the key---”
“No key. You don’t need the fucking key,” Tristan scowled, folded his arms and stood, looking domineering, and ready to fight.
“Okay,” Sam raised his arms in surrender. “Let’s go for a walk to get some fresh air, get you settled down.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Tristan clipped.
She hit the button, “I need…err…sanitary products. There were none in the things you packed for me.”
“Okay then,” Sam said, clasping hands together, “We have a mission. We’ll head to the store to get Kyla some supplies and we’ll have a chat on the way. Kyla, you okay for 15?”
She hit the intercom button, “Yes.”
Tristan looked bewildered. He glanced in the direction of the camera.
“She’s fine, Tris. You’re fine. Right, sugar?”
“Yes, I’m okay.”
He let Sam lead him out of the view of the camera.
Kyla flopped onto the small bed in the panic room and started to tremble. Hard. What the fuck?
This was messed up. Big time. Once again, her short not-much-of-a life had flashed before her eyes. How many times had that happened since meeting Tristan? This relationship was indubitably doomed.
She stared at the green button on the ceiling, her heartbeat chugging in her ears and sounding like a washing machine. They were gone. She could hit that green button and make a run for it. Gone, safe, away from him.
Did she really want to do that? Would she be stupid not to? When they got back, how would she know that she was safe to come out? What if Sam was affected the same way Tristan was? That’d mean two scary monster vampires were out to get her.
She rubbed her temples, feeling sick to her stomach. Her future felt like it totally hung in the balance. The green button glared at her. She chewed her lip.
Tristan’s phone started to ring. She looked at it and the name Dawn came up. She ignored it. Then a moment later another number came up without a name assigned to it. She curled back under the blanket and laid there for a while, feeling tormented and conflicted and trying hard to avoid looking at that green button.
“Kyla.” She heard his voice. He was at the camera. Sam was behind him and talking on the phone. She bolted upright and hit the intercom button.
“Yeah?”
He stared into the camera and shook his head, “Baby, don’t be afraid. We’re gonna figure this out. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“What the fuck was that?”
He took a deep breath. “Sam is on the phone with someone who might know. He’s getting information. You okay?”
“Yeah. Um, is that something you usually do? Drink that kind of blood?” She let go of the button and reached into the fridge and found that it was stocked with bottled water, bottles of orange and apple juice as well as some vitamin shakes. There were boxes of granola bars and protein bars, too. The little freezer section had about a dozen IV bags filled
with blood.
“No. Never,” he said softly. She glanced at the screen and he looked really confused. She opened a bottle of water and downed it.
She watched the screen. Tristan poured a drink for himself and for Sam. He looked really rattled. He was pacing and running a trembling hand through his hair behind Sam while sipping his drink. Sam was “Umm hmm’ing” on the phone and writing something down.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sam ended his call. Tristan turned from the window and looked at him, all traces of trembling and uncertainty gone. Clearly, he didn’t want Sam to see him as weak.
“Well, that was enlightening.” Sam took a swig of the alcohol. “It sounds like menstrual blood is the actual nectar in this scenario. It’s several times more powerful than her blood. To get to it, you probably would have killed her.”
Kyla broke into a cold sweat. But what did he mean “this scenario”?
“There are a few suggestions,” Sam continued, “She stays in the closet until this is done or we try to mask it to see if she can be around you.”
“How?” Tristan asked.
“Tampons or menstrual cups are worn inside a woman’s body. They could mask it, provided you’re not in the vicinity when she changes. It might work.”
“No,” Kyla said through the intercom, “My periods are too heavy. Tampons aren’t enough.”
“Too risky,” Tristan said.
“Then she stays in the closet for a week?” Sam shrugged, “Then go to Adrian’s Arizona compound until her next cycle. He thinks he can help with an experimental concoction he has that may be able to help you be numb to the effects but still reap the benefits. But it has to be tested. Adrian says it can be done in a controlled way. Here are his contact details.” Sam passed Tristan the piece of paper he’d scrawled on during the call.
Kyla slowly sat back on the bed.
“I’ll take time to to organize things and then as soon as her period stops, we’ll go,” Tristan looked to the camera, “How long are your periods?”
