I can’t just let him bleed out, which is what an arterial bite would do, and we both just fucking came, so it’s not like I can just heal him and we’ll all be able to pretend this never happened. So I do the only thing I can think of.
I drain him.
Declan doesn’t even fight me. He still has his fingers tangled into my hair and he squirms, a quiet and fearful whimper tumbling out of his mouth, but his cock is still hard at my temple. I suck at him until all that’s left is a small trickle of blood against my tongue.
“Declan,” I whisper, sliding up his body. My cock slicks through the pool of blood at his leg and smears up his torso. He’s fucking so pale, and his blue eyes are wide and unfocused.
I flatten my hand against his chest and feel his heart slow until I’m not even sure he’s breathing anymore.
“I’m so sorry.” I’m crying maybe, because what’s another fluid between us, and he blinks at me, this long and slow thing that takes so long I’m scared he’s not going to open his eyes. But he does and he doesn’t look like he hates me, and that’s good because I hate myself enough for the both of us.
Fuck, he tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted all rolled into one fucking dream. His chest is cold, his breathing shallow and he just watches me hover over him and cry with his blood and cum smeared across my face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head, then I raise my hand and press it against his lips. “I need you to bite me.”
He doesn’t move, and I remember exactly how weak I felt when I was here like he is now. But I had William and Birdie there, and I know there’s a point when your instincts flip on and you have one last surge of strength to fight for your life.
His eyes are still on me, and I wish he wasn’t looking at me because he still doesn’t look mad…and then it happens. His body jerks underneath me and his teeth close around my wrist. He manages the tiniest puncture, but that’s all he needs. Now I just need to wait it out.
His lashes flutter closed and his jaw goes slack. My blood drips into his mouth and I’m apologizing to him over and over and I don’t even realize how much time has gone by. His hand lifts slowly and he curls his long, cold fingers around my wrist, then he bites me again and starts to suckle.
I’ve never brought a man home before
“Am I alive?” Declan whispers and it sounds like he’s swallowed a jug full of razor blades. He clears his throat and asks again.
“Uhm. Not exactly.”
He pushes me off of him, then rolls to the side and throws up all over his floor. It’s mostly blood and bile, and probably a bit of whiskey. I tasted that on him too.
Before.
He crawls out of bed and into the bathroom, kicking the door closed behind him. I drum my fingers against my leg and sit up, moving to pull the sheets over me so I’m not naked, but they’re a bloody fucking mess. So I stand up and kick my legs into my pants, sans underwear because I don’t know where they are, and then I gather the sheets into a ball and tuck them into his laundry hamper. The mattress is bloody too, so I rummage around in a closet until I find clean sheets and do my best to make his murder scene presentable.
I internally chastise myself because Henry would scold me for thinking of it that way, even though that’s what it is. That’s what I’ve done. When I hear the toilet flush, I fight the urge to flee, but my parents would never forgive me for abandoning my mate.
Fuck.
“I feel weird.” Declan crawls back onto the bed and curls into a ball, tucking his head into my lap. I stroke his hair out of his face, and he blinks up at me. His eyes are still dangerously blue, and somehow—even in this interim haze—sharper than before.
“I know.”
“What did you do to me?”
“It was an accident,” I plead for him to understand.
He clears his throat again and licks his lips. They’re dry looking, and I really hate this part. I slice my wrist back open with one of my fangs and hold it out for him.
“You need this.”
He looks at me, horrified, until the first drop hits his tongue, then sparks fly behind his irises and he latches onto me, all hands and teeth and mouth, and sucks like he’s been in a desert with no water his entire life.
And I know from experience that’s exactly what it feels like.
“Let me get us comfortable.” I guide us both until I’m leaning back against the wall and his mouth hasn’t left my wrist. “We’re gonna be here awhile.”
Declan sucks at my wrist and it makes me hard again. I’m embarrassed by it, but he lets out this sort of groan that rumbles through both of us, and he reaches down and starts stroking his cock while blood pours into his mouth.
“Does it feel this good to you?” He stops sucking to ask, and he looks at me with my blood smeared over his chin and his lips. It almost looks like he has color again, but I know better than that.
