Blooded to a Vampire

The Unforeseen Guest

Those eyes that plucked the heart from me,
Those eyes that sucked the breath from me.

~W.W Gibson, The Stone

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It was three in the morning and I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, near my bed.

Breathing in deep, I pulled my magic back into me. Then, breathing out I pushed my magic out and it surrounded me in a heady mist of gold.

I repeated the process again.

Intense violet eyes.

My concentration broke and the glass on my table, my bed and God knows what else fractured around me. My bed had lost one leg and was leaning heavily on the floor.

Oh fudge cream.

Fourth time. Dammit. I'd lost control for the forth damn time.

Releasing your magic and then drawing it back in was like exercising your limbs by stretching them. It was essential to have control over it so that no matter the situation I can always control my power, reel it back in of necessary. 

If I let it rip out of me like this I may end up hurting someone.

Fudge it all.

I rubbed my face and sighed. With a wave of my hand and a murmur of incantation, everything was back in order.

The bed was fine and so was the glass. I'd been quick to realize that my power had a very destructive tendency, so I'd leant the fix-it spell so that I don't live in something that looked like a bull mauled its way through it.

I dropped my pose and landed on the floor with a huff, my hair spread around me and some of it landed on my face. I was too tired to even lift my hand and remove it.

Almost two weeks and he was still in my head. Stuck on effing reply. That song makes so much sense right now.

It's like some kind of void. Everything. Everything I think about comes back to him. Even food. And that's saying something, because nothing distracts me from food.

I haven't taken a single breath without wondering what he's doing. Not a single wink of sleep because I've been up wondering if he was too.

Hell, I could deal with all that but food was where I drew the line.

Food had always been my get-away buddy, my form of meditation. And now everything tastes the same.

Even chocolate.

I winced and swore, probably colouring the air blue. I pressed the heel of my palms against my eyes.