Dorian's Destiny: Altered (17 page)

“Was he a present?” He asked, stroking Blaze
as he purred loudly.

“Not exactly,” she admitted, scratching
Blaze's ear. “Actually, I suckered my parents into letting me have
him.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I can be very convincing,” she gloated,
playfully tossing her hair with her hand.

“Yes, I can see that. You've definitely
peaked my interest in a topic I had long abandoned.” Suddenly
frowning, he grabbed his abdomen as his stomach cramped and
churned. Feeling the urge to vomit, he jumped from the couch,
knocking Blaze from his resting place. He glanced around
frantically, searching for anything suitable for the task. “Where's
your restroom?” He cringed, sure he was just seconds away from
throwing up all over her living room.

“There.” She pointed to the
closed door to the left of her bedroom.

Bent over in pain, he stumbled into the
small space. Hovering over the toilet, he gagged repeatedly,
however, there was nothing in his stomach to expel; there hadn't
been for years. Still, the urge kept him bent over and failing for
what seemed like an eternity.

Having followed him to the
bathroom, Megan knocked softly on the door, after hearing his
gagging subside. “Dorian, are you all right?”

“I'm fine. I'll be out in a
minute.” He croaked; his throat raw from gagging. Finally, the
cramping subsided, allowing him to stand straight and view himself
in the mirror. His face was flushed, full of color – a stark
contrast to his normal pale complexion.

“O... okay,” she stuttered,
not having the slightest idea about how to deal with a sick
vampire. Sitting herself back on the couch, she anxiously waited
for him to come out of the bathroom with an explanation.

When Dorian returned to his seat beside her,
his appearance was vastly different than before. His furrowed brow
and bent posture told her he was suffering.

“What's wrong?” She looked him over for
symptoms she might recognize.

“My gguess would be thaaat my body isn't too
happy with mmmy abrupt change in diet.” His chattering teeth made
articulating nearly impossible. Leaning his head back on the couch,
he attempted to regain control of his unruly body. In response to
the attempt to be controlled, his body unleashed shivers, not only
worsening his teeth chattering, but causing his entire body to
shake.

Retrieving a blanket from
her bed, Megan gently covered his shaking body, grazing his skin in
the process. “You're burning hot.” Placing the back of her hand
against his cheek to be certain, she questioned, “Is it common for
vampires to run a fever?”

Through chattering teeth and panicked
laughter, he stated, “You're tthee nurse.”

Forcing a smile, she
blurted nervously, “Ha-ha! I must have been absent the day my
professors discussed vampires.”

The blanket's warmth
stifled his shakes, allowing him to speak without stuttering.
“Great,” he joked. “I counted on you to nurse me back to health.”
Seeing the concern for his wellbeing projected in her eyes, he
continued with a smile, “Don't worry, I'm not dying. Vampires are
quite resilient. Found that knowledge out the hard way long
ago.”

His words calmed her
slightly, but also perked her curiosity. Keeping herself focused on
her current situation, she filed away her wonder for another time.
“What did you mean earlier when you said abrupt change in
diet?”

“I switched from ingesting human blood to
animal blood,” he answered bluntly, lacking the energy to sugar
coat his undesirable dependency.

“Oh,” she uttered, surprised by his
bluntness. “So you can survive on either?” She questioned, knowing
the answer already from his earlier statement about not dying,
however she wondered how varied their definition of survive might
be.

“Yes, a vampire can survive
on either. When first turned, I drank only animal blood, however
Thomas insisted a change for my benefit, of course. He was right.
Unfortunately, human blood is far superior,” he replied through
gritted teeth. His pain and topic of discussion were equal culprits
in his uncomfortable situation.

“Then why the switch?” She asked, curious
about his self-induced pain.

He forced a weak smile. “If I am going to
let you attempt to save me, I thought I should do my part. No need
for you to do all the heavy lifting.”

She shook her head. “You didn't know your
body would react so negatively.”

“No.”

“Well, I think I know
what's happening to you,” she stated, giving him a once over glance
before continuing her diagnosis. “You are going through withdrawal.
Your body grew accustomed to human blood and now without it...it's,
well...it's freaking out, for lack of a better word, causing the
nausea, the fever.”

“How long will it last?” He asked,
hopeful.

“Not sure. In humans, withdrawal can last
days or weeks. Many factors play a role in that figure, the person,
the drug, how long they've been addicted. I have no idea how those
same factors would affect you. It would be better if you weaned
yourself off human blood, instead of quitting cold turkey.”

“No!” He stated adamantly.
“I've already instigated the process, no need to backtrack.
Besides, my healing ability should shorten the duration of my
withdrawal symptoms, hopefully.” He watched her lips move in
response, but no sound registered in his ears. Reigniting its
revolt, his body assaulted itself anew with another more violent
round of symptoms, blocking out everything but the excruciating
agony. Crumpled into a ball, he hugged his knees, fighting through
the waves of nausea and shivers. He welcomed the blackness that
followed, grateful for the cessation of his pain.

Megan attempted to make him comfortable by
tucking the blanket snugly around him, then sat beside the couch
hoping to be the first thing he saw when he awoke.

When his eyes finally reopened, he found
himself lying comfortably on her couch, his host sitting on the
floor directly in his field of vision.

“Hi. Feeling better?” Not giving him time to
answer, she immediately explained his current state. “You passed
out and I didn't have the heart to try and resuscitate you, taking
your word that you wouldn't be dying in my living room.”

He sat up uneasy, his aching muscles
protesting every movement. “How long was I out?”

Rising from the floor to join him on the
couch, she shrugged. “A few hours, let me check.” Checking the time
on her phone she continued, “Oh, it's almost 6. Guess you were out
for a bit longer than I thought.” Her face heated when she realized
how long she had watched him sleep.

He glanced out the window, hoping her timing
was off and it was not so perilously close to sunrise. Regrettably,
the lightening sky confirmed her accuracy. Leaping from the couch,
his body swayed. Steadying himself with the arm of the couch, he
exclaimed, “I have to leave.”

“Are you sure you’re able?” She questioned
doubtfully.

“I don't have a choice. It's almost
sunrise.” He insisted, his voice panicked.

Unable to resist this prime
opportunity to make a joke she never thought she would get a chance
to, she asked, “Because you sparkle in the sunlight?”

“What?” His eyes widened, briefly confused
by her assumption. Shaking his head, he snapped, “No! Not even
close! Sunlight tends to deep fry me.”

“Oh, sorry,” she whispered, feeling horrible
for wasting precious time with her stupid joke. “Why don't you
stay?” She gasped, surprised by her suggestion, but it made perfect
sense. “You are in no condition to attempt to race home before
sunrise.”

“I'll be fine,” he responded, releasing his
grip of the couch arm and turning for her door. Only halfway, he
clung to the kitchenette island.

Seizing her opportunity to
say told you so, she put herself between him and the exit. “Sure
you'll be fine,” she scoffed. “You can barely walk. I may not be a
vampire expert, but I am still a nurse. If I allowed you to leave
and something happened to you or someone else, it would be on
me.”

“I can't die though, so there isn't any
reason for your concern.” He stood straight, ready to move her
aside if necessary.

Frustrated, she stood
defiantly, hands on her hips. “Great, maybe you can't die, that
doesn't mean you should endure unnecessary pain. What if you get
caught out in the sunlight? I assume by your wording, that's
extremely painful.” He agreed with a nod. “Or you have an episode
while driving and wreck, injuring yourself, or God forbid, someone
else.” Tears stung her eyes, her words triggering memories. Filled
with renewed determination, she poked her index finger into his
shoulder a few times. “So, as I see it, you have two choices, stay
here until you are fully recuperated,” she added the next option
reluctantly, not ready for him to leave. “or I can drive you
home.”

He stared down at her,
admiring her tenacity. No way would he allow her to drive him home,
after trying so hard to keep her away from that part of his life,
especially Thomas, which left him with only option one. “Okay, you
can stand down. I'll stay and let you continue to nurse me back to
health,” he obliged, smiling.

“Wise decision,” she
retorted with a smile. “Why don't you sit back on the couch? I'm
going to change clothes, and then you can lie down and rest on my
bed. I'm sure my tiny couch didn't provide you with the highest
quality of sleep.”

He watched her disappear
into her bedroom. Soon, he envisioned her slipping out of her
scrubs, exposing her delicate cream skin. These thoughts produced
an unexpected, potentially embarrassing reaction. Looking down at
his groin, he wondered how such an appendage could elicit such an
incredible influence over his mind and body. Adjusting his pants to
accommodate the growing member, he concentrated on driving the
images of her semi-nude body from his mind. Free from the sensual
images, he glared at the knob on her bedroom door, willing it not
to turn until he could regain his dignity. Panicked he lacked the
appropriate time, he glanced around the room, searching for Blaze.
“Blaze, Blaze,” he whispered, desperate like never before for the
overly affectionate feline. Almost cursing, he bit his
tongue.

Any other time that cat
would be up in my lap, but not now when I need something less
conspicuous than a pillow. Just relax and breathe.

Adjusting himself again, he hoped to lessen
the visibility of his desire. He mentally prepared to die from
embarrassment as he heard the doorknob slowly turn. Answering his
plea, a tuft of red fur barreled out of the bedroom and into his
lap before she took her first step out of the room. Leaning down,
he stroked Blaze's back, whispering, “Thank you.” Blaze purred
loudly in response.

Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, hair
pulled up in a loose ponytail, she walked over to the couch,
snatching Blaze from his lap. “Leave Dorian alone. He needs to
rest.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully the
few extra seconds of cover were all that was needed for his
reaction to become unnoticeable.

She sat Blaze on the floor
and motioned for him to follow her back into the bedroom. “Let's
get you somewhere more comfortable, so you can recuperate.” She
gestured to her bed, half the size of the one he no longer used.
“Is there anything you need, before I crash on the
couch?”

There was only one thing he
could think of as he crawled under her pink and purple paisley
printed comforter – blood. “No, I'm fine. You don't have to fuss
over me.”

She shook her head as she
pulled the covers snugly around him, “Nonsense, at the moment
you’re ill which makes you my patient. It's my job to fuss over
you, and there's no reason to be ashamed. However, if you want my
continued help, you need to be completely honest with me at all
times. Now is there anything you need? Something to drink perhaps?”
She asked with a raised eyebrow. Receiving no response, she huffed,
slightly frustrated, “Honesty, Dorian. Can you change what you
are?”

“No,” he whispered.

“Then there's no reason for you to be
embarrassed or try to hide what you need to survive. You've been
here for several hours and although I don't know the feeding habits
of vampires, if there's any resemblance to humans, you are probably
hungry. I wouldn't mind getting what you need and I won't think any
less of you.”

Propping up with a couple of pillows from
the surplus adorning the bed, he responded honestly, “But I am
embarrassed and ashamed of what I am and what it takes for my
continued survival, so much so, I would have ended my existence
long ago if it was possible. Lord knows I tried. The only reason
you know is because I thought I should show you I was the lost
cause, not you. But instead of shooting the sick stray that's
crawled its way onto your porch, you've decided to nurse it back to
health.”

Her brief smile over him referring himself
to a stray dog faded as she registered his admission of attempted
suicide. “Wait. You've tried to kill yourself?”

Looking down at the
comforter, he traced one of the intricate paisleys before
confessing another one of his dark secrets. “Yes. I didn't
understand what had happened, or what I had become, but I knew I
didn't want to live with an undeniable craving for blood, so I
attempted to kill myself. I ultimately failed after numerous
painful tries. Then Thomas found me and I embraced what I was,
although not completely, because I didn't think I had a
choice.”

“You do, Dorian, and now
you have me to help you along the way, in case you stumble,” she
assured, smiling again. “And we've been over this; you're not a
lost cause. I don't believe anyone ever is. Now lie back and rest.
I'm going to crash on the couch until daylight, then I'll see if I
can't find you some sustenance.”