Jane:

My eyes snap open. The room is streamed with sun rays, their warmth burning my skin; caressing my skin. I stretch my fingers, watching the light catching at my diamond studded hands.
After a moment, I silently let my held breath loose; oxygen flooded my lungs and nose, the scent of the strangers in the streets below painfully strong in the air around me. I gulped in a breath before holding it, the scent instantly vanishing – thankfully.
I close my eyes again for a moment, listening. Aro and Marcus have a game of hearty chess in the room beneath and chat meaninglessly, whilst Alec is currently gliding up the staircase in the direction of where I currently am.
I consider escaping from the balcony, but then decide against it – it would not be sensible to jump from a thirty-foot building before the many humans in the streets below, and land elegantly rather than a crumpled bloody heap.
I pull myself upright moments before Alec glides in the room, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes dance with eagerness and thirst.
‘Yes?’ I ask, a little miffed at his bursting into the room without consent.
‘New blood,’ he says merrily. ‘Heidi just got them in.’
I nod slightly, fighting to keep my eyes blank rather than burning. I wish to feed so much.
‘Are u not thirsty?’ he insists.
‘Not particularly,’ I answer as nonchalantly as possible. ‘Perhaps later.’
Alec scrutinizes me, a small frown appearing in his forehead. ‘Do not lie, Jane – it is unattractive on you,’ he says finally, as though I were wearing a new mantel which he is displeased with.
Turning away from him, I speak to the birds perched on the roofs of the houses below. ‘I am not lying, Alec – I just do not have the urge to feed for half of the dag and night.’
‘You are still lying, Jane,’ he says casually.
I turn my head sharply. ‘Get out, Alec. I don’t want u in here.’
‘Anger is not your style either, Jane,’ he says. ‘Please stop – I find it rather cringe worthy.’
I hiss loudly.
‘That was rather rude.’ He feigns upset door placing his hand upon his hart-, hart – or, at least, where he believes is his heart; I am convinced that he does not own one. He leans vooruit, voorwaarts suddenly, lowering his voice, although he knows it will be audible to everyone in the house. ‘You cannot starve yourself because u feel guilty. They are only mere humans – they don’t have souls.’
I am burning with anger now, and a low grumble begins in my chest. I no longer have control over my eyes, and they are ablaze with fury.
‘I’m gone,’ he says quietly, and he vanishes. I let out a small screech and slam the door shut with such power that the door handle comes away in my palm, wood splinters littering the floor. I know I am grouchy because I have not fed for the longest period of time yet, but I will not give up my argument against our way of life. Its disgusts me – yet, it makes me alight with happiness and joy.
Throwing the door handle aside, I pause, between minds in what to do. Eventually, I pick up my black velvet cloak, throw the kap up and exit the room. Within seconds, I am in the sunshine of the Volterra streets – and surrounded door my potential food.

I return after sunset, thirst gnawing at my dry throat. The scent of the recent visitors which will never see the light of dag again still lingers on the air; I hold my breath, and run to my allocated room.
Alec sits upon the chair beside the balcony, inhumanly beautiful against the moon’s rays; his head turns as I stop abruptly in the door way, rocking on my heels. I wait for him to speak.
‘Have u fed?’ he asks, his eyes assessing my form; I wondered how weak I looked.
I shake my head, and let my held breath slip away. ‘I do not wish to. I am not thirsty.’
‘I have told u already, Jane – lies do not suit to demeanour.’
My fists clench along with my teeth – audibly. ‘Get out, Alec,’ I repeat.
‘I think u should feed,’ he says, his voice almost sincere. But I have known him for too long.
‘Oh,’ I say sarcastically. ‘I thought I just heard sincerity in your voice. But,’ I gasp, ‘could it be?’
‘Be quiet, Jane,’ he says sharply. ‘I mean it.’
‘And I mean it – get out.’
‘No.’
As I meet his eyes, I hold them; concentrate – and suddenly he lets out a high pitched screech and grips the side of the chair for support, his eyes flashing deep burgundy glares.
I couldn’t help but feel delighted – for what feels like the first occasion in a very long time.