I Love You, I'll Kill You

It only took half of the drive back to Desmond's before I started to feel like death was upon me. With every part of my being, I fought to hide the ugliness I was feeling on the inside. I could feel every inch of my body begin to burn and ache. I was sure Desmond was tense because he could sense my temperature rise, but didn't say anything so not to upset me. Though, none of his comments could bother me at this time.

I could hear Dawn and Ivan whisper to each other on the other seat, or at least it sounded like whispers. I breathed in deeply, feeling dizzy. I hated the feeling of being dizzy; I felt like I was rocking on a boat stuck in a storm.

Another giggle erupted from Dawn. Tears blinded me when I went to take a peek at what they were doing. I cringed and closed my eyes when the whole world began to move even more erratically when I had my eyes open. The speed of the limo was making me feel like I was on a very long rollercoaster ride. I liked roller coasters, but not this one. The limousine felt like it was turning topsy-turvy while going a hundred miles an hour. Dawn's giggles died down after a moment. She was way too drunk not to laugh like a ditz.
"Desmond, is she ok?" I heard her ask. I wanted to answer her, but found no voice. I didn't want to open my eyes, fearing that I would see stars or feel even dizzier. Desmond pulled me away a bit. I shivered when something cold touched my forehead. It felt nice. Desmond sighed loudly, and then released the cold compress on my forehead. I groaned in disappointment.

"She's burning up," Desmond murmured with a sigh. I tensed, feeling an arm surround me and bring me toward him. His cold body pressed against my burning body, sending shivers through me. I didn't know if it was shivers of pleasure or cold. I groaned, unable to hide the pain coursing through my body. My body was being bashed so suddenly; it caught me completely off guard. I didn’t understand it. How could it be that I was getting sick so quickly?

"What is it? Is it the flu?" Ivan asked in a concerned voice. I felt Desmond shrug his shoulders. I couldn't remember the last time I was sick. In truth, I was a healthy girl. I always got my shots to make sure I stood clear of this kind of problem. I could remember getting a cold every once in a while, but this felt nothing like a cold. I couldn't remember what I flu felt like. If this was how it felt to be truly sick, I hated it.

"What do we need to do?" Dawn asked in the same tone Ivan had asked. Again, Desmond didn't answer with words, but shrugged. In pain, I clutched onto the hem of Desmond's jacket, wishing that this pain and aching would subside. I felt like crying.

By the time anyone was speaking again, the limo had stopped. Even though we had now arrived at Desmond’s, no one was speaking. I could barely stand the tense silence. I could feel all eyes on me, just wondering what pain I was going through.

"What do we need to do?" Dawn asked for a second time. For a moment Desmond said nothing nor moved any part of his body. I squeezed my eyes tighter as his cold hand brushed atop my forehead another time.

"I don't know," he finally admitted in a low voice. I could hear the desperation in his voice. He really had no idea what to do, and I could tell that he was a bit nervous about my condition. The door to the limo opened, letting cold air of the night wisp across my burning body. I shivered again when I leaned against Desmond's cold body. It was strange how his body could be cold at times, and warm at others. It was like his body temperature changed and matched with his mood.

"You two should get going," Desmond insisted in a low tone. I couldn't hear any movement from Dawn and Ivan. I didn't dare open my eyes to see, either.

"Are you sure? We could help," Ivan offered, still holding Dawn in his lap.

Desmond shook his head. I could feel his eyes on me. "Thank you, but I'll take care of her. Besides, you need to take care of Dawn. She's a mess as it is."

"Hey!" Dawn shouted in complaint to his comment, making me cringe at the sudden loudness. It hurt my ears to hear anything louder than a whisper.

Dawn took in a deep inhale of air when she noticed the pained look on my face after her screech. "Sorry," she whispered in shame. I tried to shake my head and tell her that it wasn't her fault, but nothing seemed to make my body work.

"He's right; we should get home, Dawn. You may be immortal, but that doesn't mean you don't get to pay for the alcohol you consumed. You're in no condition to stand on your own. Let's go home so I can take care of you," Ivan said, moving Dawn off of him and climbed off the leather seat of the limo. I could hear him help Dawn out of the limo. She laughed when she tripped on her way out of the limo. Ivan must have caught her, because I could hear them kiss, followed by Dawn squealing as he picked her up. I frowned.

How was it that Dawn and Ivan found each other to be so perfect? Was it love at first sight? I was jealous of their love; the way they stared into each other’s eyes like there was no one else in the world. Anyone would be jealous of such a true love.

For a moment Desmond and I remained in the limo, just sitting in silence while I rested against his cool body with the door open. His body was tense with confusion, not knowing what to do.

"It's been so long...," he began, but paused, as though he were having trouble speaking. Another sigh escaped his lips and he pulled me away so that he could stand to his feet. I groaned in pain another time when he picked me up and began to carry me. I wrapped my arms around his neck like a child being cared for. For a moment he tensed at my movement, but relaxed and began to walk.

I could feel the cool air of the early morning coming. The sun would soon rise, which meant that Desmond would only have a short time to shut all the blinds and shutters on the windows to prevent from getting burned. He could pretend that the sun didn't bother him, but eventually it would begin to hurt him, even if he was very strong.

I listened to the sound of the door opening and closing as he carried me into the house. Without a second to waste, he carried me up the stairs with such grace that I didn’t even realize we were on the second floor until I felt him set me on the bed.

"Grace, I need to...change you into your night clothes," Desmond struggled to find the words. He sounded like he was nervous, almost. I shook that thought away and almost laughed. Desmond? Nervous of taking off my clothes? Funny. I somehow found the power to nod my head without inflicting pain. His cool hand touched my waist to help me to my feet. My eyes were still closed, so I couldn't see what his look was.

"Umm...," he murmured, obviously confused about something. I took a deep breath and forced my eyes to open a bit—just enough to see him. I exhaled when the world was no longer moving like a rollercoaster. I blinked sleepily at Desmond's expression. He was trying to figure out how to get my dress off of me without hurting me. Usually I would be blushing, but the sickness I felt erased all embarrassing thoughts. All I wanted to do was get better and sleep. I had a feeling it was going to be more difficult than that.

"Can you lift your hands over your head?" he asked in an angelic tone. I struggled for a moment, but accomplished the task. My muscles screamed for me to remain still, but I fought and kept my arms stretched toward the ceiling. I closed my eyes when my sinuses began to ache. I felt cool air across my legs as my dress slowly lifted from the bottom and hacked up. It was taking longer than I thought it would to take to remove a dress. I felt the dress slip over my head, and finally my arms. I shivered from the sudden coolness of the room. I opened my eyes slightly when I heard him set the dress on the bed, but no movement or words after that. He was staring at me with a perplexed expression, as though he were memorizing everything about me.

He noticed me looking at him. "Sorry,” he murmured, his eyes quickly turning to the floor. Without looking up from the floor, he walked over to my new closet to grab some night clothes. It felt like he was taking his time. Usually he could do all of this in a blink of an eye. I was glad he wasn't—it would only add to my headache. He walked back over to me with an awkward feeling radiating off of him. He was acting strange.

"What?" I asked in cracking voice. I wanted to say more, but that's all I could conjure.

He finally looked up from the ground to stare at me before returning to the clothes in his hands. "It's nothing. Here—let's put these on and get you into bed," he suggested in an awkward tone. I sort of nodded my head and held my hands above my head once more. He came close to me and pulled the shirt over my head. I could feel his cool temperature radiate off him. His cool breathing was quicker than usual.

I was able to pull on my bedtime shorts by myself, even though my body went against me. I cringed, trying to reach behind me to unclasp my bra. It hurt to reach behind me. I looked over to Desmond as he watched me attempt to remove my bra.

He rolled his eyes when I cringed again, and stood from the couch and walked over to me. "You're going to hurt yourself if you continue. Turn around." It wasn't a request, it was a demand. I did as I told. I shivered when he lifted my shirt up and unclasped my bra. If I wasn't already red from being sick, he would have been able to tell I was blushing.

"Thanks," I mumbled and pulled my strapless bra off and tossed it to the small pile on the floor. Desmond stood next to me and scooped me up into his arms. My heart raced from his actions. With one hand, he pulled back the covers and set me on the bed before throwing the covers over me. I shivered from the coldness of the sheets. I close my eyes, the feeling of my head ready to burst almost unbearable. Desmond sat beside me on the bed, resting his hand on my leg. My heart felt like it was going to explode.

"Can I get you something? Anything that would make you feel better?" He was sounding almost desperate for me to answer him. Automatically I shook my head. I had no clue what would make me feel better. Probably some kind of aspirin or something, but did they have that in this world? Everyone was immortal or powerful enough to heal themselves. I could tell that Desmond was frowning from my answer. I pulled a hand over my forehead and rested it there, feeling the warmth of my forehead. I couldn't tell if I was warm or not. I shut my eyes, wishing that the pain would quickly leave. I didn't know how much longer I could take this aching and just plain ugly feeling. I finally thought of something that I needed desperately.

"Water," I whispered. My voice cracked when I said the word, but Desmond heard it and jumped off the bed without a beat. Within a second, he's gone, as if he were air. When I blinked, he was by my side once more, this time holding a cup in his hand and an aspirin in his other. I slapped myself mentally for forgetting they had drugs here. It was just the other day when Desmond had given me aspirin for my hangover. I sat up as much as I could—which really wasn’t very much. I reached out and took the cup. It shook in my hand as I reached for the aspirin and popped it in my mouth before I brought the plastic cup to my lips. I almost coughed when the pill slid down my throat. I hated swallowing pills. Even if they were a small sized, I would somehow find a way to choke on it.

I nodded a thank you to him, not wanting to lose more of my voice. A tiny smirk tugged at the side of his lips before he turned and disappeared within less than a second. I sighed and lay back down on the large bed, closing my eyes, hoping that this would quickly end. I cringed when a wave of pain tensed every muscle in my body. It reminded me of the feeling I got when I took codeine for the first time.

Codeine's a powerful drug that's a painkiller, but if you take it on an empty stomach, you pay dearly. My mother had given it to me one time on an empty stomach to stop a headache I had. For an hour I laid on the floor, writhing in pain. It felt like I was getting punched in the stomach over and over again, which meant I could barely breathe. My mother could do nothing but watch until the pain stopped. After the agony passed, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. It was such a relieving feeling. I wonder if that's why it was now illegal in some countries.

I almost shrieked when Desmond appeared at my side, holding a tray in his hands. I gave him a quizzical look, or as much as one I could.

"You need to eat," he told me. I almost gagged at the thought of food. I didn't want any food...or any liquid, for that matter. Desmond rolled his eyes and returned to his spot on the bed, sitting down next to me and setting the tray on my lap.

"Grace, you need to eat something. Your body needs to be fed. I know you haven't eaten in a while, which is probably the cause of your sudden sickness. Now, drink this—you'll feel better," he told me as he held up a cup. I stared at it wearily, like it was some kind of poison just waiting to kill me. I gulped, feeling sicker than before. He gave me a look that told me that he would force this drink down my throat himself if he had to. I sat up once more, cringing as my stomach sent a bolt of pain through me. I almost fell back down, but am stopped as something soft sat behind me. It was a pillow to stop me from hurting myself even more. I blinked, not remembering when the soft pillow had appeared behind me.

"Here," he began, setting the cup back down on the tray and moving it off my lap and to the nightstand next to the bed. He stood to his feet and moved beside me. I shivered when his cool hand pressed against my back and pushed me to sit up a bit. He sat himself behind me, pulling me back so that my back was pressing against his cool chest. My heart thumped in my throat. Even though I was feeling sick as a dog, I could still feel embarrassed when being so close to Desmond. He pulled the tray from the nightstand, sitting it on my lap once more. One hand appeared on each side of me as he reached for the cup of what I was assuming was soup.

"Don't act like a child," he said in a serious tone, taking the spoon from the cup. He waited for me to open mouth before lifting the spoon from the soup and putting it in my mouth. It felt so weird that he was feeding me like I was an incapable child. Maybe I was. I was a child to him, in a way. He could be my grandfather when I took a second and thought about it. I shook that thought from my mind and I returned to concentrating on being fed.

Unlike any human, he didn’t spill. His hands were so still, it was almost like he was a statue. I had to admit—the food really was helping.

When I finished the small cup of soup, he picked up a piece of bread from the tray and fed it to me. The whole time his eyes remained on me, watching my every expression and move. A small smile played on his lips the whole time he fed me. I felt a bit uncomfortable, but somewhat happy that he was feeding me, smiling, and holding me. I sighed when the thought ran through my mind.

When I finished the bread, he took another cup from the tray and placed it to my lips. I sipped it a few times before sighing.

"There—was that so bad?" he asked in a playful tone. I rolled my eyes, feeling a bit better, but not a whole lot. I shrugged my shoulders, and he seemed pleased by this gesture.

"Well, that's better than no reply," he commented, obviously happy now that I was able to move a bit. I shut my eyes, feeling tired from the long day. A lot had happened in the last hours. It had meeting Lucifer to almost being eaten by werewolves. It was a nightmare! I sighed against Desmond's cool chest, feeling his chest rise and fall. Strange that he could breathe when he was dead.

"Sleep now," he whispered next to my ear. His voice made me relax and quickly put me to sleep.

I felt like I was floating. There was mist everywhere, making it nearly impossible to see. I turned around when I twig snapped behind me. I stared in horror as Cain appeared from the mist, looking gorgeous and deadly. His evil and crooked smile played on his face as he walked to me, moving the mist as he slowly closed the gap between us.

I jumped when I felt something cold rest on my shoulders. A warm feeling filled me as the person behind me bent down to my ear, breathing on it with an intoxicating scent.

"I'm here beside you," the familiar voice whispered in a kind and loving voice. I sighed, feeling the hands on my shoulders move down and wrap around my middle. "You don't have to fear anything," Desmond whispered, his lips touching my ear very lightly. By this time Cain had stopped and was now glaring at us. I watched with horror as his evil grin reappeared, figures beginning to appear from the fog next to him. They were not people, but large wolves. Their growls were loud, their lips pulling back to reveal their sharp and large teeth. They looked like they were going to attack us—ready to jump at us at any second.

I tensed as more growling came from behind and beside me. I turned to look at the growling noise and saw at least seven giant wolves, exactly like the ones that were going to attack me at Desmond's Birthday Party. Instead of growling and snarling at me and Desmond, they were growling and revealing their teeth to Cain and the other wolves, like they were on my side. Cain's smirk disappeared completely when Desmond brought me closer to him. I could feel his mouth at my neck, ready to bite me.

Instead of biting me, his lips lightly trace my neck, kissing and nipping every few centimeters.
"Grace...Grace...Gracie?" My eyes snapped open as I am shaken awake. I blinked, feeling blind for a moment. My eyes cleared away the tears to reveal a concerned Desmond. He was hanging over me on the bed, his arm on each side of my head. It took me a moment to comprehend it all. I gasped in surprise, sitting up on instinct. He easily dodged my head and moved out of the way as I sat up in the bed. I groaned in pain from my sudden movement. I still was not doing very well.

"Whoa there—you shouldn't move so quickly; you're still not well enough to be making sudden moves," he said as I fell back flat on the bed once more, clutching my head this time. I closed my eyes, trying to go back to sleep and away from this pain. Even nightmares were better than this pain. My eyes tightened when something cold rested on my forehead.

"You're still warm." Desmond pulled away his hand after quietly talking to himself. He was mumbling, so I was guessing he was just doing a mental inspection.

I sat there for what felt like hours, but I knew it wasn't very long. I could feel Desmond lying beside me on the bed, not once letting his eyes linger from me. Every time I went to take a peek, he was staring at me intently, his expression always different every time. Sometimes his expression was confused, and then it would turn content. It was strange to see so many emotions on his face. I sighed loudly.

I couldn't sleep anymore—not after that nightmare. What did it mean? Was Cain coming to get me soon? And what was with the werewolves? What was with the wolves that were snarling against their own kind, as though they were being betrayed? And why was Desmond in my dream? His behavior was so unusual. He was holding me and...kissing me like we were lovers.

I turned over onto my side, feeling heat rush to me cheeks. I hid my face away, afraid Desmond would notice. Sure, I was sick and had a fever, but that didn't mean that Desmond couldn’t distinguish between the difference or not.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a worried tone. He was probably worried about why I was suddenly looking wary.

I tried to play it cool and relax, but ended up doing the opposite. I ended up stuttering."Y-yeah." My voice also cracked. I didn't sound convincing at all. The familiar plastic cup appeared in front of me as he leaned over me.

"You sound like you need a drink." There was hidden amusement in his voice. I blinked, staring at the plastic cup for a moment before lifting an aching hand to grab the water. He pulled the cup away from me, making it just barely out of my reach. I frowned. He climbed off of me so that he could push me to lie on my back. I didn’t even try to fight against him; he would win no matter what. I watched and waited while he stared down at me with a curious expression, most of it showing in his eyes. I wanted some water.

"When you were sleeping, you sounded like you were in pain. What was your dream about?" he asked with a sudden seriousness in his voice. I swallowed hard, trying to dissolve the lump in my throat. He set the cup on the nightstand so that he could climb onto the bed and put his hands down on both sides of my head, trapping me under him. I forgot how to breathe as I stared up at him, his hair just barely long enough to touch his long eyelashes, making him look angelic above me. I tried to erase the thought from my mind, but all it wanted to do was go against me and think of how perfect his lips were, his eyes so beautiful that nothing could compare to such a spectacular color.

"Grace." His voice made me jump, knocking me out of my dazed expression. A small smirk gently played on the side of his lips, knowing that I was thinking about him. He could probably tell from the sudden color in my cheeks. This time I turned my head away to not get distracted, but still said nothing. I couldn't say what my dream was—it was too strange to explain. Desmond didn’t buy my silent reply and continued to hover over me, pinning me between his body and bed. My temperature rose with each passing second. My eyes closed when his cold hand gently brushed my cheek. It felt nice to have something cold against my burning skin.

"Tell me," he demanded, almost begging for me to speak. My dream must have really bothered him if he was begging.

Why wasn't he this nice and sincere all the time?

I sighed, and then took a deep breath before forcing myself to speak. I didn't turn my head to stare at him while I spoke; he would see too much fear there. "It's hard to explain..." I began, pausing as I tried to remember the dream as best as I could. It actually wasn't too hard, I just wanted to pretend so that he wouldn't leave me or get angry after telling him.

"There was mist. Cain was there." He cringed when I said Cain's name. "He was smirking until you arrived. Giant wolves began to appear beside him, and then some appeared next to me, like they were ready to kill their own kind."

"Werewolves were going against their own kind?" Desmond asked in an incredulous tone.

I turned my head slightly to see his eyes a bit wide in shock. I nodded my head. "Why? Is that not normal?" I asked.

He slowly shook his head, closing his eyes at the same time before opening them once more to look down at me. "Werewolves are known for their great kinship. Even if they're from a different pack, they will act like brothers. A pack will sometimes allow some of their own pack to join another; it shows how much they trust each other. So hearing that they're attacking each other in your dream is very unusual. I don't think that it could ever happen," he explained. I blinked, taking in all the information with curiosity. I always loved to hear stories about unknown creatures, but now I could hear the truth from someone who personally knew what these creatures were like.

"Anything else in your dream?" he asked suddenly, sounding curious. I turned my head away again, wishing to hide my heating face. I knew that I was turning pink…or red.

"No…I think that was it," I replied, not wanting to tell him the rest of the dream; what he was doing and saying to me in the dream.

"Are you sure?" he asked, as if knowing there was more. I quickly nodded my head, still refusing to look at him. A low chuckle erupted from his throat as he rolled off of me and lay down next to me on the bed. I was now staring at him. He turned his head to me and returned the stare as we lay on our back next to each other on the bed. I fell into a trance while I stared into his perfect eyes. They were penetrating mine, feeling like they were going to refuse releasing mine forever more. I sighed, breaking away from the stare and turned my head so that I was staring at the ceiling.

I sat for a while, just staring up at the ceiling. My heart beat quickly, thinking of what the future held for me. I swallowed hard, biting my lip to hold back the tears. I didn't want this to happen. I wanted to go home—to be with my uncle, who was thinking it was his entire fault that I was "dead". And my parents...their sad faces broke my heart. It tore me apart to see them so upset.

"Grace?" Desmond asked, sitting up when he saw me bite my lip to a point where it was almost bleeding. I swallowed the rock in throat and felt a single tear trail down my cheek. Getting sick did more than make me feel awful, it made me want to cry more than usual. I shook my head, hoping that it would help fight away the tears. I felt Desmond move closer to me, sitting up on one elbow while he watched me fight my emotions.

"What is it?" he asked in a low tone, fighting back the very emotions that were breaking from me.

I sniffled before speaking. I didn’t even look at him as I spoke, but stared at the ceiling. "What's going to happen to me?" I whispered, fright clouding my tone. I heard him exhale loudly, as though he knew that this discussion was going to come up sooner or later. "I don't want to be here. I want to go home," I blurted out. My voice quivered, and I closed my eyes, letting a few tears stay from my eyes. I heard him sigh again, now refusing to stare at me. Instead, he stared at the gold sheets of the bed.

"I know," he whispered so low that I was barely able to hear him. I snorted, hearing regret in his voice. If he was trying to play the good guy again, he was doing a good job. But I was not going to fall for the same act twice. He scooted over to the nightstand and grabbed the plastic cup.

"Here—it will make you feel better," he advised, pushing the cup into my face. I stared at it with a blank stare before lifting my hands to take it from his. I sat up before bringing it to my lips, downing the whole cup of water in one gulp. I watched from my peripherals to see Desmond not looking at me, but down at the sheets, now doing the opposite of what he was doing earlier. I took the cup from my lips and stared down at the cup, feeling woozy as soon as the liquid had been swallowed. The cup fell out of my hand and onto the bed.

"Desmond...what have you done?" I asked in a slow voice.

I somehow found the power to throw my legs over the bed before standing to my feet. The world was moving again, like I was on a boat. It was strange—I felt like I was floating, and I hated it. I stumbled, beginning to walk toward the door, but tripped. I caught myself on the doorframe, just barely keeping myself up.

Desmond stood from the bed and watched me attempt to walk around the room. I stared with groggily eyes, trying with all my might to stay awake. All emotion was now gone from his face.

"Why?" I asked in a low whisper, sounding like I was panting. I clutched onto the doorframe harder, trying to keep myself on my feet. I knew that whatever was in that drink was doing its job fairly quickly.

"You'll thank me later," he said. My legs gave out. I slid down the door until I hit the ground, feeling the whole world blur before I felt my whole world turn black.