Phelan nudged me to sit, and I bared my teeth, but Mrs. Ardilla told me to cut it out.
Professor Barclay was opening a sterile pack and laying out tubing. His face was grim, but he was performing the task with steady hands.
“Atticus, you can hate everyone in the room later. Right now, you’re going to save Rawling’s life.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer, and I hardly had enough energy to hold up my head. If I refused, what would they do?
The professor placed my arm with the palm up and swabbed it. It was cold, and it stung as Phelan hovered at Rawling’s side.
He kept repeating, “Please,” and “Hurry.”
It was the first time I’d laid eyes on the latent, maybe human, and though I didn’t react, he smelled bad and instinct told me he was close to death.
The professor slid a needle into my vein. “Hold still.”
I didn’t like the way he was talking to me. Was he a real doctor? I gritted my teeth because this was torture, and I was sure it wasn’t legal to take blood from someone who’d beeninjured. When this was over, I could sue the school, and with the settlement, I might never have to work.
Mrs. Ardilla braced my elbow with one hand and tightened her grip when I flinched.
Professor Barclay got the needle in Rawling’s arm first try and taped it down, and the clear tubing linked us together. I didn’t like any part of me being given to him, but if he died, I’d never be able to announce to the entire shifter community that we had a human spy in our midst.
“Flow’s good, and his pressure’s coming up.”
I rolled my eyes at what the professor said because I was unsure whether I wanted Rawling to live or not. If he died, he’d never best me at archery again. But I could torture him emotionally if he survived.
“He’s responding,” the professor noted.
“And he has more color in his cheeks.” Phelan’s hopeful voice gave me the ick.
I stared as the blood, my blood, moved through the clear tube. It was so simple and the only thing standing between Rawling and darkness.
“We’re getting the bleeding under control.” Mrs. Ardilla, like the professor and Phelan, was covered in someone’s blood. I was too, but it was mine, and I longed to wash it off and get the stench of Rawling off me.
“You hear that, babe? You’re going to be fine.”
I made a face at Phelan usingthatword to refer to his mate.
The professor put a hand on Phelan’s shoulder. “He’s still very weak.”
Rawling’s chest was hardly rising, so how was he getting enough oxygen?
“Shit. His heart rate is slowing.”
“Pressure’s dropping, Professor.” Mrs. Ardilla’s voice was laced with tension.
Phelan squawked and placed his forehead on the latent’s temple, begging him to hold on. “Stay with me and Eira.”
“Who the fuck is Eira?” Nobody answered me. I hated them all.
“He’s fading.” The professor was at Rawling’s side.
I glanced to the left on the other side of Rawling as the monitor made a long flat sound. I’d watched enough TV to understand the latent/human no longer had a beating heart. Damn, so I’d wasted my blood for nothing.
The professor moved first, with his hands on Rawling’s chest as he yelled, “I’m starting compressions.” The bed rocked as he pressed on the latent’s heart, and I wondered if he’d break his ribs he was using so much force.
Rawling’s head lolled to the side, and his lips parted. Gross, I didn’t need to see that. But Phelan’s behavior was embarrassing. He wept and begged the professor to try harder, while pleading with Rawling to live.
For a second, maybe a nanosecond if that was a thing, I almost wished I loved someone as much as my friend adored his mate. I couldn’t imagine being so distraught over the death of anyone, not even my parents, though I did love them, I guessed.
