Bored of playing what he already knew, Lazarus began to start a new composition, scribbling notes onto the piece of paper closest to him.
As he composed, Melissa's dream took over her mind. She was thrown back to the mansion she had once lived in, now turned cold with the deaths of her mother and sister. Melissa herself was curled up in the corner of her bedroom. The door swung open and Logan approached her, his words telling her not to be afraid, his thirsty smile telling her otherwise.
In one hand, he clutched a kitchen knife, as he bent over her. She whimpered, feeling the knife tearing the skin on her arms open over and over, her blood spilling out and filling Logan's senses.
Melissa winced in her sleep, moaning quietly as the cuts from her dreams appeared on her arms. Lazarus forced himself to keep playing the piano for her, ignoring the smell of her blood flooding the room, resisting the desire to hold her close and never let go.
Logan soothed her in her mind, his fangs piercing her wrist. The pinpricks appeared on her wrist, oozing blood.
Lazarus flinched as he saw flashes of the dream, but he continued to play as her fear spilled through their connection, returning to their song.
"It's okay, Melissa." He whispered over the music, hoping that it would be over soon.
She let out a whimper as Logan fed her his blood, darkness engulfing her as pain racked her body.
Her eyes snapped open as she awoke with a start, just as she had done when she had been turned. Lazarus let the last note ring through the room as she looked down at the angry red marks on her arm before turning to look at her.
"Melissa?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah?" she replied softly, wiping away stray tears. He slipped off the piano stool and sat beside her. He kissed her gently on the forehead, not really needing to ask her how she was; it was a stupid question when the answer was so obvious. Grimacing, Melissa pushed herself up so she was sitting and turned to face him. He slipped an arm around her waist, holding her comfortingly in silence.
"You are so lucky," she muttered after a while, "being a dog." she finally lifted her arms to return the embrace.
"What's so good about being a dog?" he wondered aloud.
"Hmm, you can still eat and drink whatever you want, you don't have to suffer your death every year, you don't have to drink from humans, you don't have to cry blood, you don't have to face everyone wanting to screw you. You don't have to face the shadow either." She explained and he nodded, humming an ‘mmm'. He was beginning to appreciate being a wolf more, these days, though he wasn't so sure that being able to choose what he got to eat made up for the agony of every transformation. Of course he didn't have to drink the blood of a human, but he still had their blood on his hands. He was still a murderer.
He stayed quiet, though, simply hugging Melissa tightly.
(Word count: 529)