Dying did not happen. That had been the first thing that had crossed her mind the moment her eyes opened the next day, her body curled against Jeremiah's. Her trembling had stopped, she didn't feel as if she were freezing one moment and burning up the next. She definitely didn't feel as if she would vomit at any moment either. All was well in the world.
Later, she realized she may not be sick any longer, but her blood lust was gone. Sun still burned her; she had tried it. She had all the other attributes that a vampire has, she just didn't crave blood. Oh, she could drink it and it would settle rather nastily in her stomach, but she craved human food.
And so, human food is what she had been eating.
Today, it seemed that her lovely Jeremiah had something cooking up his sleeve, or rather in the kitchen. No one was allowed to enter. No one was able to even sniff around. The kitchen had been his domain.
After being turned away a few times, Letha had taken the hint and had found herself in the parlor at the piano. She played a few tunes here and there, and if she found herself bored with that, she sat upon the sofa and wrote in her journal.
Hours later, when Jeremiah came looking for her, she was curled up on the sofa and staring out the window. When he entered, her attention shifted from the window to him and a smile eagerly jumped to her lips. She stood to her feet and followed him to the dining room. "Gumbo? You made gumbo?" She asked, taking a breath in and catching the scent of the food, her mouth starting to water in the way it would when she caught the sent of blood. She couldn't wait to taste the gumbo.