Upstairs, the hallway was filled with a chorus of barking laughter. Nick wanted to crawl under a blanket and not come out until someone finally had an answer.
Chapter Seven
Standing over Nick, Logan watched the shallow rise and fall of his mate's ribs. Sweat dampened the hair at his temples, and even though Nick was unconscious, tension pulled at the corners of his mouth.
A knock sounded behind him. Before Logan could respond, Zeppelin pushed through the door, filling the frame with his height. His alpha's gaze swept the room, landing on Nick then swinging to Logan.
“What’s going on?”
Logan ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the roots. Where did he even start? “Met my mate at Frothy Pine yesterday. He collapsed during his shift.” The words came faster now, tumbling over each other. “Took him to the hospital. They found nothing except low iron. Same shit he's dealt with his entire life.”
Zeppelin moved closer to the bed, studying Nick with the kind of focus he usually reserved for mates. “Your slumbering revelation mate?”
Logan smirked. “Yeah, about that… Nick didn't know he was a vampire until last night when came to me for blood.” He touched the spot where Nick's fangs had pierced skin. It was nobody’s business that Nick had attacked him. “He’s been starving his whole life, Zep. No one figured it out. Not a single goddamn doctor found an anomaly.”
His alpha’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in those dark eyes. Understanding, maybe. “You fed him.”
“Multiple times.” Logan gestured at Nick's prone form. “He should be fine. That's how it works, right? Vampires drink blood, problem solved. Vampires drink preternatural blood, even better. Except he’s cramping worse than before.”
“And not a single doctor detected what he is?” Zeppelin asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
“They never find anything.” Bitterness coated Logan’s tongue. “Twenty-six years of tests and specialists and they've got nothing. Just keep pushing iron supplements like that'll fix whatever's tearing him apart from the inside. If it wasn’t his need for blood, then what’s causing the cramping?”
Silence stretched between them. Outside, someone laughed in the hallway, the sound muffled through the door. Normal pack life continued while Logan’s world had narrowed to this room, this bed, this man who kept slipping through his fingers.
Zeppelin crossed his arms, his gaze distant. “Maybe the problem isn’t human-related. Preternatural medicine might have answers their doctors don’t.” He pulled out his phone, thumbs already moving across the screen. “I know a vampire doctor. I’ll give him a call.”
Relief flooded through Logan’s system so fast his knees went weak. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet.” Zeppelin headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. “Keep him comfortable. I'll let you know when I hear back.”
After his alpha left, Logan sank into the chair beside the bed. He couldn't stop looking at Nick, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, the small movements that said he was still fighting even in sleep.
Another knock. Softer this time.
“Come in,” Logan called, not bothering to look up.
Jamie slipped through the door, moving with the quiet grace that came from living with Sloane. “Heard my friend was here.” He gestured toward the hallway. “You look like you could use a break. I'll sit with him.”
Logan’s first instinct was to refuse. Leaving Nick felt wrong, like abandoning his post. But exhaustion weighed on him, made his thoughts sluggish and his reactions slow. He was no good to Nick if he couldn't think straight.
“Just for a few minutes,” Logan said, standing. His legs protested, stiff from sitting. “He wakes up, you come get me immediately.”
“Deal.” Jamie settled into the chair, drawing his knees up. “Go. Breathe. I've got him.”
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like fresh coffee and something sweet. Logan made a beeline for the pot, pouring himself a mug and wrapping both hands around the warmth. He leaned against the counter, letting the heat seep into his palms.
A rush of air hit his face, followed by the flutter of wings. Newt sat on the counter next to the coffee maker, wings folded against his back. The fae was small, barely reaching Logan’s pecs when standing, with pointed ears and long, luxurious hair.
“Is it true?” Newt's voice came out hesitant and concerned. “Your mate's really a vampire?”
Logan took a long sip of coffee, buying himself time. News traveled fast in the pack house, but he hadn't expected it to spread this quickly. “Where'd you hear that?”
“Zeppelin told Vaughn, who told me.” Newt zipped to the ceiling, wings fluttering. “So? Is he?”
Worry gnawed at Logan’s gut. How would the other mates react? Vampires and fae had a complicated history, and bringing one into the pack house—mated or not—could stir up trouble. Would they treat Nick differently? Keep their distance? Make him feel unwelcome?
“Yeah,” Logan said finally. “He is.”
