“The kitchen!”Fucking duh, he thought with disgust. His brain was seriously feeling fried, and just in sensory fucking overload. Even his vision now felt too sharp...too clear.
Shaking his head, he took a step forward and froze. Nothing…he felt nothing. No itch at the back of his throat. His tongue wasn’t sticking to his teeth or the roof of his mouth with each movement. And for once...his muscles didn’t feel moments away from seizing up and cramping…
Harlow let out a shaky laugh. “It’s...gone… The thirst... It’s gone.”
“Sorry,” Foxx whimpered. “Sorry… Sh-should have known…”
“Shh, Foxx, it’s fine,” Harlow murmured, not sure what the vampire was even talking about. Either way, he needed to get his shit together. Fucking hell, they hadn’t even had their first date and he had already attacked his boyfriend.
Harlow headed inside, wincing at the sound of glass crunching under his feet as it seemed to slice through his brain. How the fuck did paranormals handle this constant noise?
He wandered down a hall, away from the thicker bloody trail, as he didn’t remember seeing a kitchen in between the murder spree. There was still blood this way, or rather a drag mark and handprints.
Turning the corner, he found the who in the equation. Well, half of the who. Stepping around the entrails the man had left behind, he went to lightly nudge the torso out of his way...and sent it fucking flying. Harlow grimaced when it landed with a squish and a loud thud as it hit the wall at the other end of the hall, the body falling into a heap on the floor. There was now a nice gory dent in the wall.
Okay...so his strengthwaskicking in. Shaking his head, he kept going, eyeing the hallway mirror as he passed. Face and T-shirt coated...he was as bloody as he felt. Where the fuck were his weapons and leather jacket? Well...at least...he could confirm those flickers of memory were probably fucking real.
Harlow found the kitchen a few doors down. No blood at all, besides the footprints he made by walking in. It was empty, no people or bodies. But then...he was pretty sure...that the three continuous pulsing noises he was hearing...were heartbeats—his, Foxx’s, and Micah’s.
Setting Foxx up on a chair, he paused for a brief second to make sure the vampire didn’t slip off before going right to the fridge.
“Fuck, yes!” he growled on finding it filled with stacks and stacks of bagged blood.
Grabbing an arm full, he moved to Foxx’s side, dropping them all onto the table. Harlow snagged one, and as if he was holding a fucking feather, he gently gripped Foxx’s face. Opening his mouth, he tried to slap the bag onto his fangs.
Key word being tried, because as Harlow slapped the bag up, it burst. Blood spraying in his eyes, Harlow slammed them shut, shouting, “FUCK!”
Wiping at his eyes with one hand, he heard Foxx sputter and cough. Ignoring the vampire, Harlow blindly made his way over to the sink he’d spotted on entering, by trailing his hand over the top of the table as he went around it.
Reaching out on making it to the other side, he moved too quickly, his hand cracking against… Well, based on the sound of water running now...what likely had been the lift up handle on the sink. A handle that had probably broken off, and if the sound of glass breaking was any indication...had flown into and through the window.
But he didn’t really give a fuck, because he’d accomplished what he meant to, which was to start the water.
Blindly reaching, at the feeling of water hitting his sensitive skin, he leaned down and started splashing it on his face, rubbing at his eyes. After a few moments, Harlow cracked them open and splashed more water, before grabbing the towel folded nicely on the counter and wiping off. His eyes didn’t feel great, to say the least, but he could see now.
On rinsing out the small hand towel, he returned to Foxx, who apparently had passed out again. Harlow cleaned the man up as best he could, before tossing the towel aside onto the table.
Taking a deep breath, Harlow grabbed another bag, opened Foxx’s mouth again and slowly brought the bag upward, pressing it onto the vampire’s fangs. He sighed at the sound of the man’s fangs popping into the bag.
When the bag was barely one fourth depleted, Foxx jerked back awake. And as if it were poison, the man tore that sucker off.
“FOXX!” Harlow cursed as blood once again sprayed everywhere. Growling, he grabbed the towel and wiped at his face before dabbing at Foxx’s. At least it had missed his eyes this time.
“Harlow...Harlow... You have...” Foxx swallowed hard, before continuing to babble. “Have to...to listen... You have to...” The man weakly tried to push his hands away when he attempted to attach another bag.
“Foxx, stop!”
“No!” the vampire cried, tears forming in his eyes.
He grimaced and dropped his hands away. “Foxx, what is it? Tell me.”
“You… You have... That pedo! Yes...still alive. Tie him up, put...boot!”
“Boot?” He frowned.
“Car!”
Ah...right… Boot was what British people called the trunk. “You want me to put Micah in the trunk?”
