Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

97 - Rebecca

"I got it," Colby said quietly. I looked at him standing a couple of feet from me again, the silver ring in his eyes completely normal. Tara glanced at me, her wrist, then back at him. She shifted her weight over her feet, unsure. "Go," he snapped.

"Hey, I'm not the one who left. Don't snap at me." Tara growled back. She turned to me. "Don't let him kill you."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, Tara."

Tara flew out of the room and Colby flew over to me. He took my hand on the injured arm, lacing our fingers as he examined the wound for himself. Unlike Sam, his eyes didn't change at all. Now they were purely human, concerned as he stared at my injury. When those eyes met mine, my heart stuttered in my chest... and then he smiled and made it worse.

"That doesn't bother you suddenly?" I asked, casually nodding to my arm. He shrugged. "How?"

"I just needed a minute." He answered as though that made perfect sense. I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. Maybe he had gone out and fed. I didn't know what signs to look for, if there were any at all. Was higher resistance to blood a symptom of a recently-fed vampire?

So many questions.

I forgot about my arm for a moment. "What do you feed on, if not people?"

"You're still bleeding, Becks."

"Don't care. Answer me." Knowing I wouldn't let up, he sighed and nodded toward a cabinet door. I frowned so he opened it revealing a little mini-fridge, though he didn't open that. I put the pieces together myself. A refrigerated substance to take the place of fresh blood... blood bags. The thought made me want to gag. "That sounds nasty."

He smiled. "They aren't the best."

I shivered and pushed the thought of likely stale blood taking the place of fresh. I wasn't really one for blood—since I was human—but I found myself comparing it to things like nasty tinned food—the kind that looked like it was for dogs. Was that the equivalent of blood bags?

And I thought Colby was supposed to be heartless...

I shocked even myself when I spoke again. "Why don't you just feed on people?" He raised a brow at me. "What? It's what you are; I can hardly judge, now can I?"

"You're impossible." He said through a sigh.

"Thank you. Answer me."

"I just... don't anymore. There's nothing else to it." I rolled my eyes. "You're going to pass out if you don't shut up. Stop asking questions."

"Alright, tough guy," I remarked under my breath. He didn't respond at all, lifting his own wrist to his mouth like Tara had. I saw a flash of fangs just before he bit down, a deep shade of red—too dark for human blood—trickling down from his wrist. He moved in a blur to my side, his arm hooked around me so his wrist was by my face. For some reason, I didn't hesitate to lean forward and latch on.

I was half being held as the thick liquid slid easily down my throat. The thought of doing this with Tara made me shiver, and I realised then why Colby had come back: it made him shiver too. A little satisfaction flowed through me, though I wasn't sure what it was from.

Fingers brushed my hair back on one side, the curls stubbornly flicking back into place. It created a little loop as I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. To my surprise, there was no spillage. My eyes flicked down to my gash, a rush of energy so strong zipping through me that I knew I'd be awake for hours now. I watched the wound begin to close up right in front of me; too clear to be false.

Colby kept stroking my hair in silence. The wound healed within a couple of seconds leaving no trace that it had been there besides a single drop of blood—both dried and wet. I picked up the towel Sam had been using and wiped it off. It felt so natural, even the feeding-from-a-vampire thing. Feeding from my boyfriend, actually.

I dropped the towel and dropped my head to the side against Colby's chest. The energy in me died down suddenly, but I didn't question it. I sat there and let the simple motion of fingers in my curls relax my whole body. Colby didn't seem like he wanted to move either, though he did place his free hand—his wound healed now too—on my thigh.

We co-existed for a few minutes without a single word passing between us. It didn't feel like we needed to talk, which I loved about hanging out with Colby. We didn't have to talk or even kiss most of the time; we could just sit and be. We just chose to be touchy because we both liked it.

By the time I felt like speaking, Colby was already shifting. He lightly touched his hand to the side of my face, turning it so he could see it. It felt like a movie moment as his fingers slid around my jaw and he picked up my chin. I stared up into his eyes, completely entranced. But he didn't kiss me or say anything; just stared.

I felt something rising between us that was more intense than any kind of lust we'd ever felt. It was sort of like anticipation... for something. I felt instantly confused. About myself, about him, about us. I wasn't ready for anything this intense. It freaked me out more than the sight of Colby's fangs had; more than the change of Colby's eyes had; more than the entire concept of vampirism.

I was scared of my own feelings.

How pathetic was that?