“Kip?” I nudge his shoulder, and the coldness of his skin seeps through his shirt into my finger. He feels like the inside of a meat freezer. “Kip, wake up!” I shake him harder, but still don’t get a response.
Vampires can’t just like…die, right? Don’t they have to be staked in the heart, decapitated, or burned or something? They don’t just pass from natural causes. At least not in any of the movies I’ve seen or books I’ve read.
I fling open my door, bolting outside to run around to the driver’s side.
“Kip, oh my god. What the fuck?!” I’m panicking now. “Come on, buddy. Don’t do this to me. You gotta wake up!”
I feel around his neck for a pulse. And then his wrist. “Fuck, of course you don’t have a pulse! You’re a fucking vampire! How am I supposed to know if you’re dead- dead, or just vampire dead?!”
This is either a brilliant idea, or a really fucking stupid one, but I don’t have time to debate the pro’s and con’s of what I’m about to do. Using one hand, I tip is head back so it leans against the headrest. Prying his jaw open with my fingers, I raise my wrist to his teeth. Shit, his fangs aren’t out!
Using the next best thing, I bring my wrist up to my own mouth and bite down as hard as I can. I bite until it breaks skin, and blood begins to bead along my wrist.
When I bring my wound up to Kip’s mouth, I watch in fascination as his fangs begin to descend, popping through his gum line. He’s got to still be alive then?
“Come on, Kip. Wakey, wakey! I’ve got some yummy blood for you.” I sing-song.
Kip’s nostrils flare, and his eyes snap open. Once again, they’re like silver swirling mists. Without hesitation, he clamps down on my wrist, biting into the flesh.
I hiss at the unexpected pain.
Kip’s hands fly up, gripping my wrist tightly to hold it steady against his mouth as he sucks. His grunts and growls echo through the night, and for the first time, I’m a bit frightened of him. He doesn’t seem like himself.
“Kip…” I try to pull my arm away, but he snarls at me, his eyes endless swirling pits as they glare at me.
“I think you’re taking too much, Kip.” I gasp. This time there’s no pleasure in it, only pain. “You fed earlier, remember? You can’t take that much.”
Kip doesn’t listen, biting down harder until I cry out in agony.
“Kip…please.” I cry, tears trailing down my cheeks. “Stop. You’re hurting me.”
It’s like my words aren’t breaking through his blood lust. Is Kip going to kill me? I start to get woozy, my body going lax as I sink forward into Kip’s hold. My eyelids become heavy, and my brain starts to slow.
“Kip.” I rasp. “Please. You don’t want to kill me, I know you don’t. I’m your little dude, remember? It’s me, Charlie.” My words get weaker as I talk, but I try to keep going. With the last of my strength, I reach my free hand up to his face, stroking his cheek. I meet his eyes, even though it’s difficult for me to keep mine open. “Kip.” His name scrapes out of my throat. “I like you Kip, and I trust you. I know you don’t want to hurt me. Come back, please.”
I watch as recognition flares in Kip’s eyes. After the recognition fades, panic sets in as he realizes what’s happening. His vise grip releases, letting my arm go, as his fangs retract back into his gums.
With blood dripping down his teeth and chin, he whispers brokenly “Charlie?”
And that’s the last thing I remember as it all fades to black.
Chapter Eleven
Kip
The World’s Worst Friend Times Two
Charlie goes limp, falling forward onto me. Blood continuously drips from his wrist, staining our clothes. I feel the warm liquid dripping from my chin down my mouth.
“Fuck, Charlie. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I scramble to unclip my seatbelt, and hoist Charlie into my arms. Biting my palm, I open his mouth and let my blood drip into it. “Charlie, you’ve gotta drink this, baby. You’ve gotta let me fix you.”
He doesn’t react, and doesn’t swallow, but I watch as the blood slides down his throat. My eyes flick back and forth between the gaping wounds on his wrist, to his face. Slowly, the punctures on his wrist close up, leaving only blood behind.
“Oh, thank fuck.” My eyes burn with unshed tears. “You’re going to be okay, I promise, Charlie.”
With his wound no longer bleeding, and his small body lifted into my arms, I leave the car under the cover of darkness and head towards his apartment building. It’s a nicer building, with a receptionist security guard type of dude, who is luckily asleep. I mean, not a great security measure, but tonight I’m thankful for it.
I run up the steps with Charlie’s body in my arms. I can feel his heart beating, his blood pumping, and his lungs breathing, but he’s still unconscious.
