“I said leave me. Take her to safety.”
Even with Samantha’s eyes covered, I can sense her eye roll. “If I leave you here, will you feed?” she asks.
Warin is silent, and I glance over at Samantha.
“You’re such a pain in my fucking ass. Just tell her, Warin, tell her or I fucking will,” she seethes.
He doesn’t move and I decide maybe a softer approach.
“Warin, please come with us. My healing magic is just okay, but I’d feel a lot better knowing how you were doing. I’m not leaving without you.”
He looks over at me. His pretty eyes are hard to see.
“Are you manipulating me, witch?” he asks, and it sounds like he’s trying to laugh, but it sounds more like a gargle.
“Maybe I am,” I say proudly, popping open the umbrella. “Now, we’re getting the hell out of here—together.”
“My lot in life was to be surrounded by women who boss me around.”
“Aren’t you lucky then,” I say.
He groans as Samantha picks up his one side, and she truly carries most of his weight. I’m mostly here to make sure I block out the sun with the umbrella.
Warin is stiff next to me and I think back to the time I pulled the stake out of him. He seemed perfectly fine the next time I saw him. Joyce also healed super quickly when he staked her with the coffee table leg.
“Blood will help?” I ask, mostly to Samantha.
“It will more than help. It’s exactly what he needs. The stupid fuck hasn’t fed since?—”
“Enough,” Warin interrupts, even though it takes all of his strength.
I hold on to his waist, making sure that no more of the sun’s rays touch his skin. I glance back, realizing exactly where the stake is embedded in the booth. If Warin didn’t move me as fast as he did, if he didn’t risk the sun exposure, I’d be dead right about now.
I hold him closer, and he moans, but I’m not sure if it’s from the pain he’s in or something else.
“You’ll be okay, just keep moving,” I say gently.
“Seriously, War, when did you get so fucking heavy? Take some bigger steps, fuck,” Samantha complains.
Mostly because of her strength, we make it through the kitchen. The staff is somehow emptied out, no one in our way as we make it to the backdoor.
“Okay, it’s a tight squeeze. Be super cautious with the umbrella,” Samantha reminds me.
I give her a sharp nod. “I’ve got you, Warin. It’s going to be okay.”
With the utmost care, I make sure that the umbrella covers his skin as Samantha all but hefts his larger form into the backseat. He grumbles and makes pained sounds as he lies on the backseat. I have to basically crawl over him to take a seat next to him, placing his face on my lap.
“You torture me,” he rasps out.
“You don’t have to talk,” I tell him, not knowing where to put my hands. I don’t want to cause him any more pain.
Samantha gets in the driver’s seat, pulling the balaclava off her face, her dark hair falling around her.
“Fuck this. He has the restraint of a fucking saint, you can’t risk going into bloodlust with her bleeding like that. I’m barely holding it together.”
“Samantha,” he growls out her name.
“No. This is enough. He won’t drink from anyone else but you. It’s why he’s weak, why he isn’t healing. He’s been starvinghimself. Maybe if he hadn’t already taken a stake to the stomach he’d be fine, but he won’t heal, not unless he drinks blood.”
