"Well, nice to meet you, Melanie," Shay replied and took a drink of her beer. It was her first drink of the day and the second the cool liquid slid down her throat, she exhaled loosely, shoulders more relaxed. She glared playfully at Wes' joking tone regarding her finally getting his beer right before acknowledging Melanie's wine glass and Wes' inquiry. "And everyone likes different things, Wes. Some classier than others." She winked at Melanie before rummaging under the bar for one of the bottles she favored.
While Shay loved beer and would gladly sit with the guys and a few bottles, she was definitely more of a red wine girl. When she was at home and away from people or just relaxing, Shailene could pour a glass of deep red wine, draw a hot bath (cheesy, she knows), and either listen to music or read a book. Even textbooks were an option when red wine was involved. Shailene let out a triumphant exclamation of glee before standing straight again, presenting the bottle that hardly anyone used. She had actually stolen the last one.
Borrowed, her mind corrected.
"This little beauty right here is the Mas de Leda Vino Tempranillo," she told Melanie, giving the bottle a nice full twirl to showcase the beauty. She even surprised herself with the small accent that made it sound all the more authentic. "Not the most expensive one here, but nothing to sleep on either. I personally like it. It's a really full-bodied flavor - sweet and smooth. You even taste a little cinnamon When you're done with that glass, I'll let you try it. Something tells me you'll enjoy it."
She was right.
Lucas would deny it if someone else asked him, but damn it all to hell, she was right. Sitting here dying on the floor wasn't going to do anything other than make him look pathetic, like he had drawn out his own suffering just for the hell of it. If he was going to die anyway, why hadn't he just ended everything the second he realized he was turned? He had had his weapons then. One swift stab to the heart could have killed him. He might have even managed to twist it for good measure. So, if he was really so pressed to suffer and refuse the life which he was given, why hadn't he already done so?
"I'm..." his throat burned with the effort and Luke coughed to get some of the scratchiness out of his voice. "I'm...not...not ready...to die..." He honestly hadn't meant to say it out loud, but now that his thoughts were out in the open, they sunk in more. He hadn't even noticed when Lillian entered the room. His own admittance was enough to knock him into a stupor or a daze of some sorts.
If his father were still alive, he would have slit Lucas' throat for the honesty. He would have wanted Luke to die like a warrior - either by his own sword and letting Teagan see her fledgling die before her eyes. He would have wanted Lucas to fight - to wage a one-man war against the vampires and take out as many as he could before he was taken out. And before, when things were simple, when he would have done any and everything to make his father proud - to make him not want to hit his own son -
Luke would have done it.
But he didn't have to. Not anymore.
Now, he had no real reason to stubbornly hold onto the life he had before. He couldn't kill innocents. He wouldn't. He spent too long trying to protect them. But he didn't have to die either. He was still young; still had things he wanted to do. He wanted to travel. He wanted to live - even in this state of not really living, but somehow living which was really just bullshit but he wasn't going to voice that at this particular moment. When Lillian was done with her mini rant, he looked up at both women.
He didn't want to die.
That was all he could think.
"Fine. I'll go. Just...don't...don't let me kill anyone. Please." His voice probably sounded even more pathetic with the plea, but he was too hungry and tired to complain.
He just hoped Andrew could forgive him when it was all over.