Nocturnal

My neck worked out a kink as I rolled over, shifting my head—

"Son of...! Ouch, ow..." I shot up, letting my banged arm laying numbly at my side.

Holy camoly this slash was going to kill me of a heart attack; the shots of pain each time I moved my arm, or when I touched it? They were frying my circuits. Taking calming, steady breaths to relieve my pain, I glared around.

Red curtains, brown furniture—all of it sculptured—plus I was laying in a bed with hospital corners. Yep, so not my bedroom. It looked like a guest room, since most of it was void, empty and impersonal.

I groaned pulling my hair away. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep. On the couch. In the living room. My fingers rubbed the blanket's soft wool; the corners of my lips turned up, I wasn't sure why.

Nothing I just found out was funny. There were things that went bump in the night—things that wanted to kill people. Mom would never believe me if I told her—my brow creased.

Mom...

I shook the idea away. No way.

TV sounds rumbled from outside. I pulled myself off the bed, trying not to think too much about how I'd gotten there in the first place. Those thoughts would take me for a worldwide-emotional-spin.

I'd been in the Leale household twice, but this was my first time on the second floor. Stepping out, I looked sideways. It was a long hall lined up with paintings that belonged in museums, a long Persian rug—covering the whole hallway—furniture pushed against the wall. It was clotted with heavy, richy-stuff—still, the whole décor came off lonely, detached, like some top notch designer had thought it up. It had nothing to do with the twins.

If I was hunted by bloodthirsty creatures I wouldn't care what my house looked like, either.

To the left I saw the beginning of a staircase, the sound was coming from down there—the parlor room. I followed it down, a few steps creaked making me wince. Stealth wasn't a quality of mine, was it?

On the flat screen a documentary was playing.

"The History channel?" my eyebrows furrowed, not seeing anyone sitting on—

I rubbed my eyes. Nope, still there.

Cameron was sprawled on the couch. Sleeping. I stared, and kept staring like a total creep-o; eyelashes feathered his cheeks, they were long—such a waste on a boy—sooty like his hair. I rounded the couch, tilting my head, betting those lips could leave ardent kisses wherever they trailed.

His mouth cracked when I crouched to grab the remote off the coffee table. Other than that, he remained perfectly still, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

I swear the only thing I did was turn off the TV and when I looked, his eyes were open, on me.

"Were you faking?" I suddenly felt grateful for self-control because I'd wanted to caress his cheek, or run a hand through his hair—

"I was studying." He said, sounding dead-serious. I glared. "What? You don't know a part of your brain's awake when you're sleeping?"

I rolled my eyes, "Please, like that works. I bet you don't even know what the documentary was—"

"It was about the French Revolution." I gaped, the finger I was holding up, flattered. His words were so certain, confident, that I didn't feel the need to confirm, so, I chucked the remote at him—he caught it wicked fast. "You're a violent little thing, aren't you?" he sat with a Cheshire grin.

I gazed down, "I think it's an allergic reaction, because it only happens when I'm around you." Cameron tossed the remote, leaning back, arms stretching. He made a sound of satisfaction. My muscles coiled, I gulped thickly.

I was getting tickles I shouldn't. Way down—I coughed, he arched an eyebrow.

"You wound me, Rapunzel. Seriously." He mocked rolling his shoulders—popping noises ensued.

"How long did I sleep?" I would've asked where the polite brother was, but I didn't want to see Phillip. Because when I did see him, we were going to talk. And I meant argue.

Cam reached forward—I tensed—as his arm brushed my thigh. Breath caught as he pulled back, grazing me. It felt infinitely slow, excruciatingly intimate.

His phone had been on the coffee table. He'd reached for it. Get over yourself, Nina.

"Four hours." He called me back to reality. "I thought you were going to sleep more. You were totally out of it." I felt a flip-flop at the thought of Cameron watching me sleep—and I'd always found that creepy.

I blushed all over. He smirked.

"Someone's hungry."

"Shut up..." I drew my arms around my stomach—bad move. I dropped the left one quickly. "Can't you heal my arm? It's a problem."

"Sorry, our blood provides self-healing. Healing others is a special ability." Cam looked ticked off. "We should have asked Raph to heal you. We got side-tracked with the whole holy-message thing."

I would've liked that—to have been healed—but I wasn't going to bust his head because of it. I'd been glad when Raphael left, he'd been making me nervous.

"That's his ability? Healing others?"

"Among others." Cameron got up. "Phillip went out for groceries but he hasn't come back, yet. Which means he's probably at the park playing basketball." Sounded like that was a recurrent happening. "So," I leaned on a kitchen counter. He inspected the inside of the fridge—closing it. "Nothing," he moved to the cabinets, rummaging around. "How do you feel about Oreos?"

"I feel good if you have milk." He cast me a funny glance. "It's Henry's fault." It was true; my little brother completely hooked me on drowning Oreo.

"You're in luck," he shook a carton box. "There's still milk." Cam poured it all—half a glass—handing it over. "Here's the thing," he said holding up the Oreos package. "I never share my Oreos. They're sacred—like Kurt Cobain." Ooh, Cam had an idol. He was really into music. He glanced from the box to me. "I'm opening a real big exception here. Whatever you do," he leaned in, I could smell his fresh breath. "Never, ever, tell anyone."

I blinked, "Oookay." I bumped the glass to his chest so he'd back up. "Oreos are your precious. Got it."

We were back at the couch. Me eating like a ravenous wolf, Cam studying me. I couldn't care that I looked like a mess, filling my mouth Oreo after Oreo, or that my teeth were black with all the chocolate. I was hungry. The only thing I ate before leaving, was a pop-tart.

"Do you starve yourself, or something? It's like you haven't eaten in days."

I chewed, drank and answered, "I didn't have dinner last night. And honestly, the last thing on my mind after what happened at school... was eating." Cameron nodded once. "Ouch." Again with the arm. "Are you sure this isn't getting infected?" I would hate to lose an arm.

Cameron's cheeks looked harder as he thought.

"I don't think so." Then, with a more quiet voice, he proposed, "I can check it out if it'll make you feel better." Letting out a silent sigh, I nodded. "Finish eating, then. I'm going to grab some more gauze and antiseptic."

I watched him go, human velocity and all. When he left, I had a click. Hadn't I heard something here when I was falling asleep? I could barely recall what it was, I know it was between Cameron and Phillip.

Shaking it off, I drained the last of my milk.

Cameron made me jump six-feet when I looked over and he was suddenly sitting there—talk about a super-ninja.

"Don't do that," I punched his shoulder and wanted to shake off my hand in pain, afterwards. Dawn was right, they were freaking titanium. "You saved me from a demon-possessed-human so you can kill me with a heart attack?"

With a humongous grin, he whispered, "Give me your arm." I did, watching as he rolled up my hoodie sleeve, gently but quickly. Underneath, was the bloodied gauze. "You shouldn't do gym for a couple of days, at least, until it stops burning every time you move it."

"Great," I sighed bitterly. "How am I supposed to get the hell out of dodge? Pun intended."

The grin softened, becoming more of a smile. His hands were still holding onto my arm, keeping it steady so nothing would hurt. And the feeling of his skin against mine? It sent warmth radiating through and through, causing a foreign emotion to inflate my chest.

It scared me. It marked me. It excited me. It confused me. It caused everything to become jumbled—and worst of all, I more than 'kinda liked' it.

"Vampires have two special abilities. They can read a person's thoughts and they can use hypnosis." His gaze met mine. "Vanessa can use hypnosis on your gym teacher so he won't report you missing classes. No one would no."

Hypnosis? I had two words: useful and dangerous.

"She can make anyone do anything? Think anything?"

"Hypnosis works better on humans. People who have no trace of Power can't resist. Supernatural creatures—like us—are much harder to influence."

"That's good to know," at least I stood more of a fighting chance than a regular human. Not that I thought V would use her mind-compulsion on me, still. "Is that what Phillip's been doing? Helping her control her abilities?"

He nodded stiffly. I knew he didn't like the idea of it.

"He's been helping her with... cravings, the Power—all the supernatural mess." But he couldn't be bothered with telling me the truth. What I was, what she was—or helping me control my ability. Rage pooled up in my stomach. "When I peel this off," I looked down at my gauze-encased arm. "It will hurt. Like a bitch." I lifted my golden orbs, his eyes met mine half-way.

"I thought you said I'm the toughest girl you've met."

"I wasn't lying," he whispered. "But the bandage is glued—because of the dried blood—"

"I know that." I was surprised by the courage my tone carried. "I can handle it, do it."

Cameron's eyes flickered down. My heart raced wildly. His face came closer—

"Aaah!" My hand shot for his shoulder, nails sinking past his sweater, I truly felt his skin breaking—Cam nudged, but didn't pull away. "Ah... oh my... ah..." I breathed cocking my head into him, opening my eyes. "Haven't you... couldn't you..." I braced my weight on Cameron, who didn't move an inch, letting me rest on him. "Couldn't you have... have counted to three?"

He'd ripped that bad-girl with huge accuracy and force. He did it to be quick. I had no idea if I should slap him, or thank him.

I settled for the third option, doing neither.

"Count downs only make you suffer in advance. They suck." His chin scraped my forehead, I tilted my gaze up. "You didn't take it that badly."

I was behaving like a freaking cat, with my claws sunk into his skin! How didn't that bother him?

Slowly, my hand fell from Cam's shoulder, "Sorry about that." I tried moving from his lap, but his other arm was keeping me trapped. To his chest.

I prayed Phillip didn't walk in. I was angry with him—blindingly angry—but I was still his girlfriend.

"Cam?"

His eyes snapped becoming attentive. Blinking down, his arm snaked away lighting fast. As if I'd burned him.

That shouldn't have mattered. My lips grimaced and not because of the pain.

Looking down at my exposed wound, I saw it hadn't made much of a recovery. It was a single slash, about five inches big, on my lower arm. It wasn't pretty.

"It looks alright. As alright as a flesh wound can be, anyway." He simpered. "It would heal faster if you got stitches." Cam passed me a suggestive look—oh, hell no.

"No, nah-huh. I'll stick with the slower healing deal. You are not sewing my skin." I wasn't that brave.

"It was just an option." He shrugged getting the antiseptic to clean out the wound. "Pain's not that hard to deal with, Nina. You don't have to fear it, if you know how to overcome it. Sometimes that's all that's left. And it's way better than to feel numb." Cam murmured trying to make it sound plain, the undertow of emotions riding his eyes made him fail.

My right hand curled. It wasn't clear to me what sort of pain he was talking about; was it just physical or emotional? Either way, I hated he had a trick to push it down; it meant he was used to aching.

The simple idea of that turned my insides cold.

The spoiled feelings I had for Cameron were burning away fast as a flicker, heat traveled under the surface of my skin. My hand reached tentatively, inching closer to his hard-planned cheek. It was more than I could control when he was looking exposed.

I didn't even get to feel his skin under my fingertip.

Cam jerked as if a hot rod had poked him. Our eyes gravitated around each other, I tilted my head, lips ajar. He lowered his eyelids, leaning closer to the extended hand I was still holding.

His eyes shone with a broken light. A light that came alive when our gazes locked, like it mended because I was there with him. It made me loose as air, it made me feel painfully sad, it made me feel hot everywhere, it made me feel special—I swallowed—like I was the only person in the world.

For him.

"I should..." he started pausing, eyes roaming around us—he tilted to the coffee table, grabbing the gauze—parting from my touch. "I should wrap that before it gets infected with some virus flying around the air or some shitty thing like that..."

Breathing extra-hard, I nodded tucking my lips. Clearing my throat, I glanced to the running fireplace.

"You, huh... never answered me."

"About what?" his voice sounded rough.

I cuddled into the couch, "About how you knew what I was. Did you know on our first day?"

Yes, I told myself, remember how awful he was the first day you set foot into Julian Ivory. Remember that. Be strong.

Cameron's lips shaped into a grim line, "I had a hunch."

"A hunch?" I said stricken. Then, with more force and rage, "A hunch? You pushed me into a wall!"

The severe expression turned into one of mirth. I leaned away as he approached very seductively, almost like he was about to tell me a secret.

"Do you know what I think?" my brain was stuck. Cameron's closeness was mind-blocking. "I think," he traced a finger over my chin. "You wouldn't remember that much detail if you honestly hated it. Which leads me to think you kinda liked it." If he came any closer I would hyperventilate. "Didn't you?"

I slammed a hand to his chest. He fell back with a 'oof' and a deep laugh.

"You're impossible and delusional." I bit.

He sat, shaking his head, full-force smirk playing, "Am I?"

"You most certainly are." Dear Lord, it was like our sweet moment never happened. What an unbelievable guy—not in a good way. Nope. "I don't believe that hunch-thing, by the way."

He shrugged, "I don't care what you think."

I eye rolled at him, "Whatever," I mumbled. Next my voice came softer, "Was that why you didn't like the idea of me hanging out with Phillip?"

He snorted, "I didn't like the idea of you anywhere near this town." I winced; that one hurt, even if I knew why he'd been worried. "Phillip made a bet when I told him—" my eyes sharpened. "He bet I was wrong, that you weren't anything hostile. Guess he won."

He'd lied to me about that, too. When I first came here, Phillip looked happy, when I asked why, he said he'd won a bet. Just guys stuff my ass. The bet had been about me.

Swallowing I asked, "But... how did you figure out... what I am? About my ability?"

"Vanessa caught stray thoughts." Oh. "She told us and since you were only experiencing an extrasensory ability—no inhuman strength, speed, healing or senses— we pieced it together quickly."

"So... Psychics only have one ability? Is that it?"

"I think so. I'm not going to pretend saying I know why—because I really don't. But records say people who descended from Nephilim gained skills that allowed them to see information hidden from normal senses." Cam rubbed his neck.

"Right," I murmured thinking about those records he mentioned, maybe I should read through them; maybe I'd find something useful about how to contain my dreams. "That's why you stopped trying to keep Phillip away from me, you found out I wasn't a threat." Not that he'd done a good job keeping us apart. My lips puckered with a question. "What I don't get... is why you keep pushing me away from you."

Cameron's head snapped to me. We shared a gaze before a secretive smile tipped his lips, "Maybe you're a threat to me."

I was confused, "I don't... understand."

A door opened behind us, creaking. The sound of plastic creasing rattled.

"Did you bring pie?" Cam called over his shoulder.

"Yes," Phillip called, kicking the heavy-weight of a door closed.

I lowered my sleeve since Cam finished wrapping the bandage. If I put off talking to Phillip for much longer I was going to burst.

"Here," the sandy-haired twin handed four sacks to his brother. "I shopped, you put them away."

Groaning like an impetuous child, Cameron snatched the bags vanishing into the kitchen—he really liked showing off, didn't he?

My feelings changed drastically when Phillip's blue eyes surveyed me. I glared hard, shifting around before I found out I'd rather stand. He continued to follow my movements, jaw clenched in worry, blame and knowledge—he knew what was going to explode from me.

"You're angry at me." He declared in a monotone.

"Your powers of deduction could rival Sherlock Homes'." I jutted my chin when he looked away. "You lied to me." I shook my head clicking my tongue.

"I know," he drew a breath, shakily. "And I know it was wrong, friends don't lie to each other—"

"No, we're not friends—" he flinched. "You're my boyfriend. You asked me if I wanted to be your girlfriend—I'm your girlfriend Phillip, and you've been lying to me all this time." I pressed my palm against my forehead, calming down to get words out. "And... you made a bet? About me? What the hell!" Phill's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Nina—"

I bit my lip, "Was that why you got close to me?" he turned away. Oh my God. "Was it?" I yelled, completely forgetting Cameron was in the next room.

Audience be damned. I was pissed.

Exasperated, he sighed, "Cameron filled me in on his hunch—I wanted to know if it was true." He pursed his lips. "I decided to test you." I felt something in me twitch—my hand—I was close to slapping him, I was. "I needed to get close to you, so, I asked you out. I took you to isolated places. I was alone with you—all on purpose." He swallowed, eying me up and down, thinking how long it would take for me to snap. "But... when I took you to the clearing, the place where my parent's met, I wasn't testing you anymore. I was actually enjoying being there, you'd become a friend and..." he shrugged. "I liked it."

My hand lost the quaking. He was just... I couldn't... "I thought you liked me..."

"I do like you, Nina—"

I backed away gulping, breathing fast, "I thought you had a crush on me or something, but you... you just wanted to spy on me?" I yelled, tears prickling my eyes.

"Nina, please, okay? I like you—I like that we're friends—"

"Shut up. Just... don't." I sniffed. "You've been lying since we met. You lied about... so much... and you knew—you know it's hard for me to open up. I told you things, Phillip! Because I thought I could trust you..."

"You can..." but his voice failed.

"I can't." It broke me to say it. Phillip had become a friend very fast, I had liked him from day one. "You should be the guy I can count on, but you lied to me. How can I count on you like that?" I whispered sadly.

"I..." he pursed his lips.

"Did you just become my boyfriend so I'd eventually sleep with you?" I had to know.

Phillip's jaw clenched—I sucked in a breath.

"Of course not," he said in measured words. "You became my friend. I like you, like... like a sister." Like. A. Sister. Well, that shut me up. "It was never about sex. At the beginning it was about finding out if Cameron was right. If you were more than human, a danger."

"Oh my God," I rubbed my face. "Then... then why? Why the hell would you ask me to be your girlfriend?"

"Nina," he approached. "I'm sorry. I thought that if we were together I could keep you safe. I never wanted you to find out—"

I gave the sharpest glare ever, "You didn't want me to find out?" I hissed. "About what? The part where you and Cam are Nephilims? The part where I'm a Psychic? That V's a Vampire—or are you talking about the fact that our whole relationship has been a lie?"

"All of it," he stated quietly. "I never wanted you finding out about any of it."

"That's selfish." I said. "In a relationship there isn't supposed to be any secrets. You know what's worse...? I actually thought I could tell you, about my dreams, the visions? Maybe not right away, but someday." I smiled bitterly, a tear rolled down my cheek. "Guess I was wrong." I brushed them with my sleeve. "Cameron isn't the only one with major acting skills."

"It wasn't all a lie..." he tried.

"But it started off as one, and you had no intention of telling me the truth—about anything. You knew I was scared, knew that I had dreams... that I couldn't control them and still you were willing to let me suffer?" I fisted my hand. He didn't have that right.

Phillip scratched the side of his head, avoiding my gaze. It was burning with tears, anger, betrayal and resentment. This was so screwed up, I couldn't begin to point it out.

"I thought that maybe... maybe if we didn't tell you what you are—what we are—you could have a shot at normal. I figured if we were together I could protect you, keep you safe and maybe you never had to find out—"

"You're with me... to protect me?" I tugged my hair way feeling hot, like the room was lacking in air. "That's not why people get together, Phillip. And... protect me, really? When would you have time for that? You're always busy helping Vanessa with her vamp-problems." I did it. I shoved it in his face; one of the things that bothered me. I wanted to be cool about it, make no drama. But not anymore. I couldn't understand. "You left me alone with her knowing she's still new at the whole fang-thing, she could have lost control—and still you let her be around me. Alone. And when I needed you to stay with me... you went with her." It had hurt watching him go after her, more than I cared to admit.

"If I hadn't gone with her she might've sucked someone dry—I was keeping everyone safe." He breathed raggedly. "You said you understood."

"But I don't!" I cursed my aching head, grimacing. Biting my lip, I said, "I don't Phillip. You and her seem pretty close, you're friends—why aren't you dating her?"

"Because..." his voice faded.

He had no answer. Figures.

"Right," I cleaned my cheeks. "Well," I said grabbing my bag off the couch. "Guess Sam was right about one thing." I paused at the door, throwing him one last glance. "I'm not your type. At all."

I slammed the door on my way out. Not asking about my car's whereabouts, not caring I had to walk home on foot.

It served me right; I shouldn't have been so trusting of him. He had a reputation with girls and although he didn't conquer me so I'd sleep with him, he had ulterior motives.

To protect me. Like I was some pity case.

I hated it. I hated it. I hated him. It hurt because I liked Phillip, maybe not in a total-passionate way, but I... I'd let myself go with him. He stole my first kiss. And all I was to him... was just another girl to help. Everything since we met meant nothing, now. All those cell conversations amounted to wasted time.

He never meant any of it. He was just a friend.

If I could back up, if I knew this would happen... I would never have let Phillip in.

I was right when I'd told him... when I said he was too good to be true.