~~ Owen's Deleted Scene - unedited ~~

This scene takes place right after Crimson ends. We see the situation from Owen's point of view:

Waking up to a feeling of euphoria, I stretched. My precious Emilie was curled up next to me on the couch. I ran my hand against the side of her face, she was burning up with a fever.

Moroi don’t get sick, and I knew right away that she had somehow caught the disease. I sat, and looked around, dust motes swam in the air where the morning light filtered through the curtains.

Walking around the kitchen, I looked for my cell phone.

“What the hell happened last night?” I asked the quiet room before dialing Sebastian from Chronos.

The phone rang several times before I ended up leaving a message.

“This is Owen. Some crazy shit went down at my house here in Durango last night. Two armed Moroi attacked.” Hesitating, and running my free hand through my hair, “Fuck… man… Emilie has the plague.” I swallowed to gather my thoughts. “I… I don’t want her moved. I… I need a nurse to care for her… until…” I sighed shakily. I knew few Moroi lived after contracting the illness. “I have some ideas.” I didn’t, but I didn’t want her taken from me. “Just call me back.”

What a mess! Recalling the intruders from the night before, I went to the kitchen. It was clean and smelled of bleach. My little kitten must have given me blood when she realized that I was injured, washed me, dressed me, and cleaned up the mess.

I opened the laundry room looking for my wallet and found piles of our clothing soaked in blood.

“What the fuck?” The coppery scent smelt off.

I couldn’t leave this mess for Flor to find, she already dealt with too many crazy things around this house. I threw the clothing into the washing machine.

Standing there for a second, I tried to figure out where the soap went in the machine. When I couldn’t find it, I poured some Tide into the cap and dumped it over the clothes before starting it up.

Feeling reasonably proud of myself, I began looking around.

Something seemed off.

My body felt different.

Looking at my hands, I stepped up to the mirror next to the door, then looked at my eyes and tongue. I didn’t feel sick, and I didn’t show any symptoms.

Was it only a matter of time?

I looked at my watch and entered notes of my appearance, and lack of symptoms along with the time and date into my laptop that sat on the counter.

Making my way back to Lizzy, I mean Emilie… what a crazy world this is! I’ve decided to call her Em. I picked her up easily, she was tiny for human, or vampire, and with her curls, she looked like an older Shirley Temple.

I laid her down in her attic bedroom, then began to hook up an IV. I quickly inserted the needle this time and hung the bag on the spindle of her headboard.

“Shit!” I couldn’t believe she was infected!

I’d just gotten her back.

I’d wanted her from the moment she stepped into my house.

She was sexy, in a naive and innocent way, and yet comfortable to talk to.

I had told her things about my life that I hadn’t told anyone. There was never judgment there, just curiosity.

Noticing her hands were swollen, I tried to take the engagement ring off her finger. My heart stuck in my throat when I thought of someone cutting it off.

I put her finger into my mouth and then wiggled the ring free.

She had never controlled me, silly thing. I’m an expert on Moroi blood and physiology.

Laughing out loud, I spoke to her, “I’ll figure this out. I’ll get you healed, even if it’s the last damn thing I do.”

I ran down to the lab and pulled out some morphine for the pain. She would be in a lot of pain, I winced and couldn’t imagine my beautiful Em in pain.

My elbows on my knees, and head in my hands I sat in her room.

I will come up with something.

I will cure her.

I just don’t know how.

Lying awake in my bed, I was unable to sleep.

Something is wrong with me.

I have this horrifying feeling that I’ve come down with the vampire disease.

Only, I haven’t.

I’ve tested myself dozens of times.

My blood smells funny, and my temperature is low. I’ve felt sick to my stomach and have been unable to eat hardly anything.

Putting on my glasses, I found everything fuzzy. I didn’t need them anymore.

I fear what this is, but I’m afraid to think it.

I’m afraid to say it.

In my lab, I took out a bag of clean human blood. Opening it up, I sniffed the metallic tang and found myself licking my lips.

I was so tired.

Maybe I was wrong.

I couldn’t bring myself to drink from the bag, so I went to the kitchen.

In my blender, I threw in some spinach, frozen strawberries, and milk. Looking at the mix, I hesitantly poured in some of the blood. My finger held the button down longer than necessary.

Could I drink it?

Maybe I was just low on iron, or electrolytes from losing blood?

Maybe I was getting a cold.

There was no…

Famished, I gulped the concoction straight from the pitcher.

God! It was good. I gulped, and gulped, and then licked the edge of the blender.

I felt so good.

Still starving, I grabbed the blood bag and emptied the contents into the blender before adding more fruits and veg.

Blend, gulp.

I was ravenous.

I’d ended up drinking my entire stock of human blood. And all of my frozen fruit.

Maybe I had been B vitamin deficient?

Afterward, I went for a run. I ran twelve miles without breaking a sweat.


I was a fucking vampire.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Three things I knew for certain.

One, I was a vampire.

Two, Emilie had turned me, while infected with the disease.

And three, somehow I was immune.