She couldn't believe that he doubted her and her devotion.  It could have taken her breath away.  Had she done something wrong, to let him believe it could even be possible that she'd abandon him?  Elizabeth felt heartsick.  She had so much to be heartsick for.  Heartsick for the man she had tried to nurse back to health in vain.  Heartsick for the man who would visit her every day without fail for the flimsiest of excuses, for a single broken shingle or difficult door hinge.  For the man who she remembered how to be a woman and a wife for, for whom she relearned to garden and to bake.  For the man who stumbled upon her kneeling on the floor, blood dripping down her chin to her chest, and while she sobbed in fear of losing everything, he knelt beside her and steadfastly told her they would be alright.  He should have turned on her then.  But he didn't.  He put his trust in her, completely.  And now he was giving up.  It had all been for nothing.  Nothing but the pain to last an endless lifetime.  

[i]No.[/i]  Her grip on him tightened.  She couldn't let him go.  She wouldn't.  Elizabeth had nothing in this world besides him.  She'd had enough suffering.  For once, she was going to keep what was hers.  She was not about to let Death take the only thing she had for her own in over two hundred years.  Death could make no mistake - Jaspin was [i]hers.[/i]

"You're not going anywhere," she muttered, muffled in his chest.  The moment after he kissed her blonde waves, she lifted her head towards his shoulder, frowning, burning on the inside.  "I won't let you."  She breathed in his scent slowly, turning her attention towards that vein in his neck that always tempted a part of her.  Her attention was always drawn to it, but for months she'd resisted it with little effort.  Now though... 

She shot forward and one hand went to the other side of Jaspin's neck, reaching up his head to press him closer to her.  It was all instinct now, this monstrous instinct that she'd had to live with and tame for over two hundred years.  For a second, she felt completely wild, frighteningly so, but for that second, she liked it, in that second she dug her fangs into her beloved's neck.

The blood tasted... awful.  It was awful, like rancid meat.  He was sick and so his blood was revolting.  She was so, so hungry, but it was easy to not take her full and drain him dry. Elizabeth only took a mouthful before breaking away from his skin.  But that was all she needed.  Her fangs were more pronounced than ever, and, looking at Jaspin's neck, she could see the edges of his wound simmer and go lightly green as the venom sunk into his veins.  She held him close to her, her arms wrapped around him like a vise.  This was going to hurt him.  This was going to hurt him very much.  But this pain was merely temporary, nothing like his suffering and death and like her surviving with the torture of losing him.  "You'll be alright," she whispered to him softly, like he'd whispered to her months ago.  "It'll be over soon.  You'll be alright.  You'll never have to feel pain again."