I skipped dinner that night, as well as socializing. Instead I lied in bed, tossing and turning as my latest encounter with Nero continued to haunt me.

I was still mad, but that feeling was gradually waning, replaced by a sense of guilt. Maybe I was too hard on him. Was what he done really that bad? Sure, he led me on, but what if that wasn't his intention?

An image of Nero came to mind, and I rolled onto my stomach, covering my head with a pillow.

He was obviously affected by me...unless he was faking it. My fingers curled in to touch my palm, the memory of his racing heart thrumming against my hand still fresh. No, he couldn't have faked that. Could he?

I quietly sighed in frustration, and sat up on my knees. The alarm clock on Jo's nightstand showed that it was a quarter to six, so I reluctantly got up to get ready for class.

I brushed my teeth and showered in a daze, ignoring all thoughts of Nero. I have more important things to worry about. I told myself while opening my box of tampons. Nero is not my problem.

Wrapped in a towel, I came out of the bathroom to find Jo was gone. There was a note left on my bed saying that she had a club meeting, and that she would see me at breakfast. Haphazardly, I tossed Jo's note back on the bed, and let my towel drop to pool around my feet.

Retrieving some clothes out of my duffle, I began to get dressed when my door bursted open. I jumped with a yelp at the sound, and whipped around to see Nero standing in the doorway, gawking at me.

I froze, pinned to the spot by his dark, penetrating stare. My heart was thumping wildly, a warm ache nestling uncomfortably between my legs. And he was striding inside, softly closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off me.

Suddenly, a tear-jerking pain shot up my scalp.

A body pressed up against my back, yanking my head to one side by my hair. The stranger ran his lips up my exposed neck, his stubble scraping roughly against my skin, and he inhaled deeply, audibly.

"Let her go." Nero's body was rigid, his eyes cloudy with a mix of anger and fear.

My captor let out a humorless, raspy chuckle that chilled me to the bone. "Don't worry, half-breed, she'll be joining you soon enough."

And before I could blink, a long arm raised up next to me, gripping a silenced pistol. Three shots were released in rapid succession, colliding with Nero's chest in a close-knit pattern.

I shrieked in horror as Nero fell to the ground, and started kicking and thrashing with all my might.

"Let me go!" I half sobbed, half growled. "You son of a bitch, let go!"

I wanted to puke, to scream, to claw my attacker's eyes out. But all I could do was struggle, and watch helplessly as Nero bled out on the floor.

My mind raced, going back to the day before, to the last thing I'd said to him.

Fuck you.

Guilt swallowed me whole. He was going to die thinking I was still mad at him, maybe that I hated him. It was too late now, but I had to try to make amends, even if he couldn't hear me.

"I'm so sorry for what I said, Nero." I cried to Nero's motionless body. "Get up. Please! Please don't die."

Fear was choking me, tears stinging my eyes, and my whole body was trembling. I clenched my eyes shut as the attacker lowered his head to my neck. Bile shot up my throat at the contact, and I felt his sickening smile against me.

"You're next." He rasped heatedly. "But first, a quick taste."

And with that, something sharp pierced my flesh, and warm liquid oozed down my neck.

Blood.

I felt all the color drain from my face. This sicko was going to drink my blood.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Nero slowly clamber to his feet, his head hanging. The man holding me loosened up, no doubt from shock, and pointed his gun at Nero once again.

"Impossible," he snarled. "I shot you with silver hollowpoints. You should be dead."

Finally, Nero looked up, smirking arrogantly. "Well, I would be, if I were pure." He glanced at me, eyes urgent, and I tore away from the stranger to run into his outstretched arm. "But I'm a half-breed, remember? Which means silver is only half effective against me."

The last thing I saw was the stranger's wide, horror stricken gaze before Nero gently wrapped his arm around my head, covering my ear and eyes. Then, I heard a muffled high pitched whistle, followed by a howl of agony, then finally, a hard thud.

Nero sagged against me after that, and we both collapsed to the floor. He was lying on top of me, his blood-soaked shirt clinging to my naked chest and stomach, his face inches away from the wound on my neck. We were panting as tears skimmed down the sides of my face, racing to pool in my ears. Thoughtlessly, I slipped my arms around Nero and hugged him to me, grateful he was alive.

Shakily, he propped himself up on his elbows to tenderly gaze down at me.

"Are you okay?" He whispered, his voice hoarse.

I gaped up at him, incredulous. "You just got shot, and you're asking if I'm okay?"

"I'll be fine," he was staring at my neck, his face whiter than a sheet. "I just need some..." he trailed off; his eyelids were drooping.

"Some what? Nero, what do you need?"

"Blood."

It was like being dunked in an ice bath. My entire body went cold, rigid. I wasn't aware of my frantic heartbeat until then, and I idly wondered if it had been pounding like that the whole time.

"Blood?" I finally croaked. "Like a transfusion?"

He shook his head slowly. "No, Miss Ridley. Not like a transfusion."

Terror struck me hard. He needed blood. The man who attacked me wanted blood--my blood. I knew what he was, what they both were, but I wouldn't allow myself to think it. Instead, I placed my hand around the back of Nero's neck and pulled him down to me.

"Take some of mine." My voice was low, hiding the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm me.

Nero stiffened, and shook his head vehemently. "No... I can't,"

He sounded so weak, so tired. Which only made me more adamant about my offer.

"Yes, you can." I pushed myself up to him, tilting my head to the side, granting him easier access to my wound. "You saved my life. Please, let me return the favor."

He was so close that I could hear him swallow hard. His breathing was ragged, his lips dry. Finally, he leaned in and slowly ran the tip of his tongue up my throat, following the blood trail that led to my wound. He let out a small moan that resonated in the spot between my legs, and I was panting.

Then his mouth was on my neck, his tongue gently caressing the cut. A thrill lanced through me, every muscle in my belly clenching as he began sucking my blood. Each gulp he took enthralled me, warmed me, sending me further and further up a precipice I didn't recognize. Instinctively, my hips flexed, and something hard grinded deliciously against my sex. I gasped. What was that?

Suddenly, Nero pulled away to sit up on his knees.

"We need to stop," he was breathing hard, his amethyst eyes wide, bewildered.

I was breathing hard, too, but I didn't want to stop. However, before I could protest, my door flew open. Standing on the other side was the Dean, staring open-mouthed and stupified.