Diary of a Vampeen (29 page)

“Why less than half?” I never knew we
were so scientific by design. I always assumed we were more
magical, unexplainable, so this was killing me mentally with my
overanalyzation of it all.

“It’s a complex formula but the more
blood the vampire consumes, the cleaner his serum is, and therefore
the less potent his bite. A vampire’s system is healthiest when
he’s full of blood because his healing liquid isn’t diluted. So if
he drinks over six pints, then the human’s blood should be clean
and his serum will run clear also. So when he regurgitates the
large amount of liquid, it will simply heal the human, not change
them,” Aunt Claire answered.

“Oh. So that’s how your dad was
changed,” I noted aloud to Kellan. “If that vampire wasn’t pushed
off of him then he would have had a chance at living.”

“Doubtful. Ninety-nine percent of
vampires drain a human. They only stop if they’re
forced.”

“But if they can take over half but
less than seventy-five percent and allow the human to heal and
live, why not do that?” I pressed.

“Lexi, that’s the difference I told
you about before. They would have to enforce a conscious decision
to do so and vampires are ruled by instinct, not mind like you.
There are a small group of those that contain this pro-life
mentality; my father is one of them. They do just what you
suggested, but it takes brave, strategic discipline to deny your
habitual heritage. This is like asking the alcoholic to drink water
in a room full of rum barrels – far more difficult than you
assessed,” he explained.

“I feel so far behind. I’ve learned so
much in lump sums, but your knowledge surpasses mine by
generations, not single digit years,” I commented with a sigh. It’s
overwhelming to consume mentally; so intricately detailed down to
our metamorphic formulation. I wanted to understand everything
about our make-up. I needed a book, a big book of everything
vampire and vampeen.

“So what stores do you want to go in?
Any one in particular?” my aunt asked switching to a more upbeat
topic.

“Um… I haven’t really thought about
it,” I replied with a shrug. Truth is, I’d never thought about
shopping outside Old Navy and other stores with larger sizes
available. I’d never been able to. I didn’t even know how to react.
It was strange. I’d seen myself in the mirror, but it hadn’t set in
mentally for me yet. I still didn’t believe I could shop in any
store I wanted.

“Well, don’t hold back. Everything is
on me and you’re not leaving with less than two and a half closets
worth,” she stated.

“I’ll do my best not to
skimp.”

I turned to look through the dark
tinted windows of the backseat just as we passed the ‘Welcome to
Georgia’ sign. “Holy crap! How fast are you going?!”

“About one-eighteen,” he replied
casually.

“A hundred and eighteen miles per
hour?! What time is it? What time did we leave? It couldn’t have
been longer than thirty minutes ago,” I asked frantically trying to
calculate the time and miles traveled based off the speed and
distance in my head.

“We left at 7:34 sharp and it’s 8:02,”
my aunt announced.

“Wow. We’ll be in Savannah in seven
minutes for a total of thirty-five minutes of driving to a place
that takes the average Charlestonian two hours to get to,” I
commented, still amazed at the time difference.

“The mall opens at ten so I figured we
could walk around downtown looking for ghosts until then or we
could just go to the beach,” she offered.

“The beach sounds good to me. Besides,
if Kellan can get me here in forty minutes or less, I’ll visit
downtown Savannah another time,” I said.

“Sounds good,” she agreed.

Surprisingly Kellan didn’t need
directions and Aunt Claire never offered him any. We parked and
walked along the beach for a solid hour. The wind blew strong and
waves crashed loudly, but I never got cold. Absorbed in nature’s
beauty, I didn’t speak a word the entire time we strolled. I just
listened to the seagull’s squawking, the rough ocean singing and
the random chatter within the beach-front villas.

Once we reached the fishing pier, Aunt
Claire took off to chat up a fisherman in his late thirties. He was
attractive I suppose, but nothing to fall over. Kellan’s appeal
produced more heart flutters than this man ever could.

Kellan and I settled in the sand about
thirty yards away. I cuddled into his arms without hesitation. Less
than ten seconds after getting comfortable, the healing serum, as
Aunt Claire called it, filled my throat again at a higher resting
level. It never really left, but distracted before, I didn’t give
it any thought.

Hmm. Maybe this was normal. Maybe I’d
carry this stuff in my gorge forever. Maybe it’s not supposed to go
away. But then I recalled kissing Kellan earlier; it went away when
our lips touched… at least I think it did. There was only one way
to certify this theory.

I turned to look at Kellan, a serenity
was over him; I’d never seen him so peaceful. I felt bad for
disturbing him but I needed to discern for certain if the liquid
went away. I pushed him backwards into the sand and climbed on top
of him. I didn’t even give him the chance to breathe before my lips
were to his. Just as before, the serum descended from my throat.
For that reason alone, I didn’t want to break away.

I began to feel an intense desire from
within me. It ascended with every lingering second I kissed him. I
could feel every crease in his soft lips, feel every breath on my
palate, and hear every beat my heart pattered next to
his.

I wove my fingers through his hair and
suddenly he was on top. Though his arms held him off of me, the
push of his lips to mine were strong. As we lay, the connection
forged between us. The amount of energy exerted was un-chartable. I
wrapped my arms around him, locking my hands behind his back. He
mimicked my move. It’s in this moment that I could fully sense what
he was feeling; we’d merged on an emotional level.

Remembering the attainable
mental connection, I pressed harder. I removed every mind block,
erased every distraction but him and allowed myself to sync into
his movements. I was aware that we were kissing, but his emotions
combined with mine, it’s as if we were making love. The passion was
overwhelming yet I slowly felt myself releasing, until I
heard,
“I want more, I’m ready for more
with you and you alone.”
I listened for a
second, but realized those words weren’t spoken aloud.

“I’m in, we’re in. I mean
we’re connectedly completely,”
I thought
knowing Kellan could hear me as I did him.

“We are indeed, my
love.”

“Did you mean it? Do you
want to be with me alone?”

“I did and do.”

“Can I concur?”

It’s funny, even mentally
he chuckled a soft,
“I would love you
to.”

“Alexa!”

“Aunt Claire?”
I thought pulling away from Kellan. Like a rubber
band snapping, I felt a strong push-pull-release of our force
fields though the connection, the fury of love remained
present.

The liquid rose in my throat again as
I called, “Yea?”

“Please keep it PG-13 with Kellan. I
don’t want to deal with your mom,” she pleaded with a
wink.

I blushed and nodded.

“So it was twelve girls at once?” I
returned my attention to Kellan to dig for him to admit the truth
that I had seen.

“But you’re the only one I have eyes
for now,” he defended not truly acknowledging any fact to
it.

“I know that, but I’m just shocked.
You were a total playboy!”

“And yet none of them were as perfect
for me as you,” he smiled. His gleam knocked the breath out of me.
His eyes were sparkling and teeth reflecting brilliantly off the
sun, even his dimple glittered the slightest under the
rays.

“Ugh! Since when did we become such
mushy love birds?!” I grumbled sarcastically. In all honesty, I
loved the gooey, corny parts of me and Kellan’s relationship. It
was always those moments that seemed to touch my heart with a
flutter of joy. It was at those points that love seemed innocent
and pure once more in a society of lust. Even what I had with Mike,
my boyfriend who I was continuing to consciously cheat on, was very
worldly in its physical context.

“Are you two love birds ready to go?”
Aunt Claire asked approaching us with a coy expression.

“Yea.” I stood up in one swift
movement. Kellan replicated my change and held my hand as we
returned to the car.

Arriving at Oglethorpe mall, we were
greeted by a well-dressed, flamboyant man by the name of Eduardo.
My aunt gave him a double-sided air kiss before introducing him as
her stylist and now mine for the day.

“Oh Alexa, you must be excited. You
will be the prettiest of them all,” he stated. He reminded me of a
younger, classically-hip version of Tim Gunn but with a Spanish
twist. Vocally though, he’s a cross between Tim and Ant. He was dry
in tone yet enthusiastic in annunciation and delivery.

He held the door to Macy’s for us,
and, like entering the basketball game held in a sealed off gym,
the noise swarmed me. Voices, shuffling of clothes and racks, some
type of tapping on a glass counter, and so much more overwhelmed
me. I forgot about the extended hearing since the last few hours
had been relatively quiet aside from the random voice or car music
and nothing else but waves. It felt as if I’d been electrocuted for
a second. This wave of sound nearly knocked me over.

Kellan sensed my delay in movement
produced by the expansion of clutter surrounding me. Who knew
sounds so far away could echo so loud via tunnel
hearing?!

“And you sweetness, what is your
name?” Eduardo asked staring directly at Kellan.

“Oh, this is Kellan,” my aunt
answered.

“Well Kellan, are you ready to shop
till you drop with us ladies?” he smiled and sashayed.

“I think so,” he replied with a
half-smile. I grabbed his hand giving him a quick squeeze of
assurance for both me and him.

“Eduardo dear, now don’t hold back
over price. I want Lexi to be the best dressed girl in school,”
Aunt Claire advised.

“Oh honey, you know I don’t do price,”
he assured. “Now I was given VIP access to the store before opening
and I’ve already pulled two racks full of stunners for Alexa here
to try on.”

“Yay! Let’s go try on clothes Lexi,”
my aunt gushed, a crazy I’m-about-to-lose-control gleam sparkled in
her eyes. “I’m so excited to see you in everything!” She grabbed my
free hand and I latched tighter to Kellan’s dragging him
along.

“This looks more like a lounge than a
dressing room,” I commented as an employee shut the back door that
led us into this celeb-status changing room, intermittently
drowning out most of the noise surrounding me as well. I imagined
the many celebrities and high-spenders who had fancied this room at
one point.

“What did you expect honey? You’re
celebrity status with me,” he stated. “Now you two make yourselves
comfortable while Alexa and I get to work,” he told Aunt Claire and
Kellan, pointing to a crushed velvet sofa against the far airy,
light ocean blue wall. The grand painting hanging above it, very
Monnet-esk, was what made the purple sofa and light blue wall work
perfectly in coordination of style.

Kellan kissed my head and released me
to go to the sofa. Aunt Claire was already seated and nearly
bouncing like a kid at a theme park with anticipation. Eduardo and
I strolled towards the racks. He closed a long curtain behind us to
divide the room. The racks were full of pants, skirts, shirts,
scarves, dresses and sweaters. Piled beside them were nearly twenty
shoe boxes, no doubt to coordinate with each outfit.

“Here, let’s start with these,” he
said holding out a pair of dark-wash, boot-cut 7-For-All-Mankind
brand jeans. “We can change out tops until we achieve perfection,”
he added.

I nodded my head and slipped into the
jeans. I felt nervous as I went to button them around the waist,
for they appeared too small when he held them up moments before.
“Oh my gosh. What size are these?” I couldn’t believe they were a
perfect fit for me.

“Those are a size twenty-eight, or a
regular size six they say but really a four,” he replied concisely.
“Now let’s pair those with this and, ooh, add this and top it off
with this delight.”

Eduardo handed me a long sleeve cream
turtle neck, a thin, long flowey grey sweater vest, though it was
sleeveless and button free, and the piece de resistance – a dark
teal scarf in the same fabric as the vest but with a minor fringe
at the ends.

“Ah, yes. You’re stunning Alexa. I can
tell everything will be gorgeous on you,” he commented fluffing the
items on me. “Hmm…” he noted pursing his lips and placing his index
finger to his chin. “I don’t adore this on you. Let’s remove the
overlay.”

I removed the grey vest. “Is it better
now?” I asked peering down at the ensemble.

“Almost. Be a doll and put these on,”
he requested handing me a pair of brown leather, high-heeled, ankle
boots.