The feral twisted toward him, snarling, and something primal inside me snapped. No one, no thing could touch my Kit under my watch.
I lunged, catching the feral by the throat, slamming it into the floorboards hard enough to crack the wood. My teeth bared, my vision hazed red.
I could smell its blood, feel it pulsing under my grip, and the hunger screamed for me to take it. To drink, to rip, and to feed. Then I saw Kit.
He was staring at me, chest heaving, eyes wide. Not with fear, but with something like concern.
“Simon,” he said quietly. “Don’t give in to the blood lust.”
The sound of his voice was enough to cut through the haze. I tightened my grip, not to kill, but to hold on, to keep the creature still.
“Knife,” I rasped.
Kit moved without hesitation. He crouched beside me, his hand steady even though his pulse was racing so fast I could feel itthrum in the air. He drove the blade clean through the feral’s chest.
The creature convulsed once, then went still.
For a long moment, the only sound was Kit’s harsh breathing. My shoulder burned, blood soaking through my shirt. Kit knelt beside me, eyes scanning the wound.
“Damn it,” Kit muttered. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Simon,” Kit warned.
“I said it’s nothing,” I blurted.
Kit met my eyes, jaw set. “You just took down one of your sire’s monsters, and you’re bleeding. Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”
The heat in his voice surprised me. It wasn’t anger, it was fear disguised as frustration. He reached out like he meant to touch my shoulder, then hesitated, hand hovering midair.
“Let me,” he said finally, softer.
I should’ve told him no. Instead, I stayed still while he tore a strip from his sleeve and pressed it against the wound. His fingers were warm against my skin, careful but firm.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
Kit glanced up at me, eyes catching the light from the fire. “You don’t have to thank me for patching you up. You just saved my ass again,” he pointed it out.
“Well killing it was a joint effort,” I said.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah well. We work well together.”
Despite the blood, the wreckage of the door, the smell of death still clinging to the air, I felt a laugh threaten to break through. Kit had that effect on me, even when the world was falling apart.
But the humor didn’t last. My gaze fell to the corpse on the floor. The feral’s skin was already beginning to gray, curling in on itself like burnt paper. How many of these would keep turning up?
“You need to stop coming here, in case more would turn up,” I told him.
Kit stared at me like I’d said something stupid.
“You think I’m just going to leave you alone with these things hunting you?” Kit demanded.
“It’s not safe, Kit,” I pointed out.
“I know.” Kit reached out again, this time laying a hand against my jaw. His thumb brushed the edge of my cheek, and I felt the tremor in my chest all over again. “But I’m not walking away.”
My throat tightened. “You don’t understand what you’re saying.”
