The thong panties around her ankles wouldn’t do so she stepped out of them and put them in a hamper beside the tub. She decided to look in the bags back in the bedroom that had been brought from the house to see if she could find some non-thong panties to wear.
Tristan had his back to her, on the phone. She squatted and started rummaging through an opened suitcase on the floor. As she found a pair of bikini cut panties that would do the trick he spun around and his eyes were wide. The phone dropped to the floor. “I’ll need some feminine hygiene products,” she muttered, glancing in the direction of the phone laying on the floor, “I think I know why I was in so much pain. Not that it’s ever been this bad but maybe it has something to do with that birth control shot you gave me.” Her voice was full of judgement. She looked up at him, curious about why he wasn’t picking up his phone. “My period, if you haven’t guessed. I hate to send you out to buy tampons for me this early in our relationship but…”
Suddenly he was directly in front of her and had the strangest look on his face.
She felt like the hairs on her neck, her arms, everywhere, were standing on end. It was as if the air was magnetically charged, staticky, and a storm was imminent.
“You okay?” Her voice was a whisper. She rose to stand, looked back at the phone on the floor again and frowned.
She shivered as he took her by the shoulders and guided her to the bed and in an instant was on top of her, pulling her dress up. His hands felt icy cold. She dropped the panties.
Then he was in between her legs and his mouth was there.
What the fucking fuck? Ew!
His tongue dipped inside her and he groaned. Loud. It felt cold. He looked up at her face, his fangs out, his irises totally black.
Kyla’s blood ran cold. He only faintly even resembled Tristan. His face was contorted, his skin ashen. She scrambled back against the headboard.
He rose up on his knees and reached and he yanked her back to him by the throat, roughly. His mouth was curled into a snarl and his fangs looked even larger than usual.
She let out a gasp. His icy grip tightened. She felt lightheaded.
What on earth? She couldn’t even form coherent thoughts.
He pulled her down so her back was on the bed and held onto her throat with one hand as he leaned over and buried his nose between her legs again.
“Tristan?” Fear gripped her.
He jerked his neck and his black eyes widened and then he let go of her and grabbed his temples. His complexion was ashen. He made a snarling sound and leaned forward, about to lunge. But he didn’t lunge. He was almost bouncing like he was ready to jump at her but something was holding him back. Kyla quickly scrambled off the bed and ran for the closet. She tripped and hit her face on a dresser. She winced and half crawled, half ran.
She managed to scoop Tristan’s phone off the floor on her way. As she clambered into the closet she saw him sitting on the bed staring at her, sort of past her, his skin looking even grayer, the same black eyes, huge fangs out. He looked confused. She got into the panic room and slammed the door and immediately hit the red button. Instantly, there was a text on his phone,
“***Twr P-Room engaged***”
Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She knew, from earlier, that Tristan not only had the key but he had a way with locks. She thought back to all the times she’d locked the bathroom door and he’d opened it without a key. She checked the door. It seemed secure but would that matter?
What was wrong with him? Did the scent of her period blood make him go crazy? Talk about nasty! He’d been acting ‘off’ all night. Was it because of this?
Kyla closed the message and quickly scanned through the contacts on his phone and found Sam’s contact info. She fumbled the laptop open and clicked the desktop icon and then the window popped up and she had a clear view of the bedroom on the screen. Tristan was still sitting there, wild-eyed and he was hyperventilating.
She went to Sam’s voicemail. An automated greeting told her to leave a message at the tone.
“Sam, this is Kyla. I’m in the panic room at the condo. Tristan’s gone crazy. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t know what to do but can you please help? Please hurry.”
She ended the call and put the phone down. She wasn’t sure if Sam would be friend or foe in this situation but he felt like her only chance. That wasn’t Tristan in there. That wasn’t even the angry monster-like Tristan she’d seen.