With a gasp, Alex shot up in bed, his hand pressed to his chest, though not quite over his heart. His eyes were wide, staring straight ahead at the curtains as he clenched his teeth. He had he felt it as clear as had seen it. As he slept, he watched the scene unfold, the young bartender shooting Keelie in her apartment. He watched her delicate body crumble to the floor, blood pouring from the chest wound. The bartender fled quickly, but a neighbor must have heard the shot. She ran to her window, watching the young man run from the building with the gun in his hand, and ran to call the police.

A loud, primitive growl escaped Alex as he thrashed out of the bed, causing the blankets to fly to its foot. It was still daylight, he could feel the energy from the sun outside making him weak, but it did nothing to weaken his rage and anguish. He clenched his hands, his long nails digging into his palms. He felt vulnerable and miserable. His Keelie had been hurt and there was nothing he could do about it until sundown.

He paced the dark room, his eyes glowing with great intensity in the shadows. With another growl, he swiped his arms across the top of his bureau, sending vases and other fragile antiques clashing to the floor, the glass scattering.

There was a soft rapping upon his door, his eyes darting to the disturbance.

"What?" he thundered.

"M-m’lord, I heard something, and I, well, are you all right, m’lord?" asked a voice of a young man.

"Fine," Alex growled to his servant. He could hear the man run down the stairs, knowing not to disturb his master at the moment.

He stopped pacing for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to relax as he closed his eyes. He tried to send out his thoughts to Keelie, but knew she would not hear them. He saw the ambulance arrive at the apartment, hearing their sirens. Two men lifted Keelie’s limp body onto a stretcher as they slid her into the back of the ambulance.

He opened his eyes, hoping she would hold on until he was able to join her. There was nothing he could do now but wait. Wait in agony, hoping she would live.

The blood.

So much blood had flowed from her lithe body, covering the soft carpet of her apartment. He could feel his hunger rise, his stomach convulsing painfully.

And her pain. He had felt it the moment the bullet entered her body. The burning sensation. He knew she had not felt it, a weapon such as that could kill quickly without the pain.

He crawled back into his bed, lying down as he felt his eyelids become heavy. He knew he would not be able to stay awake much longer before weariness would take over. His limbs became heavy, and he his eyes slowly drift shut.

*****

He left immediately after the sun had set, the sky stained with twilight. Everything around him was a blur as he darted through the night. When finally he reached the hospital, the pain had intensified.

His body began to evaporate until it was nothing more than a dark mist, floating through the air and seeping through the crack of an open window. The mist drifted out of the room and into the long dark halls before it finally reached the desk. The cover to a book upon the desk’s surface, the pages turning open as if the wind were blowing them. Finding the number to her room, the mist sailed through the air until it came to a stop before the door. Only then did Alex materialize, his form camouflaged in the shadows. The strong scent of chemicals, medicine, and urine hit him. He could hear moans of pain many rooms further down the hall.

Lying on the bed was the still form of Keelie. She had lost a great amount of blood from the gunshot wound, but he could still hear the weak rhythm of her heart. She was hooked up to various machines, each monitoring her health.

Alex stepped closer to the bed and laid a gentle hand upon her chest, feeling her heart. He closed his eyes as he his other rested upon his own chest. He once had a steady rhythm, but now, everything inside him was dead. He was hollow. But how was it he could feel so much pain?

He opened his eyes, letting them focus upon Keelie. Even her near death experience had not marred her beauty. He brushed the back of his finger across her soft cheek. He would not let anything happen to her ever again. He’d rather put himself in harm’s way than see her be killed. He was already dead, so what could it pose to him?

Bringing his wrist to his mouth, he felt his canines lengthen before he bit down into his flesh. He positioned it above Keelie’s mouth, letting the red droplets fall into her slightly parted lips.

When he was sure that he had given her enough, he pulled his wrist away, letting the wound heal over. Giving her his blood would connect her mind to his.

He wiped the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and sat beside her, the mattress softly creaking beneath his weight. His gaze roamed her delicate features, taking in her natural beauty. A frown settled upon his lips as a face of another woman crossed his mind. One that had the same fairness as this woman lying in the bed. If only he could remember.

For long hours he stayed by Keelie’s side, listening to her soft and shallow breathing, feeling her heart as it returned to normal thanks to his blood which now flowed through her veins. By tomorrow night, she would be completely healed. Only when he felt the first stirring of sunrise did he leave her side. He felt weak from not feeding, and knew when he awoke the next night he would have to hunt.