Always.
I want to tell him to hurry up, to leave them and see to Morgan, but I swallow the words. It’s harder than it should be.
“FBs did this?” Corey asks as he starts to cut away what’s left of Morgan’s clothes. There’s no urgency in his movements when I’m desperate for him to hurry the fuck up.
“Yep.”
Corey pauses as he removes the scraps of fabric and gets a good look at the injuries underneath. “Damn.” Both fresh and dried blood cling to every part of him. Red, angry claw marks cover most of his stomach, with bruises coming out everywhere else. “Any idea why?”
“Do they need a reason?”
“True.” He leans forward to closer inspect the bite marks at the base of Morgan’s throat, then glances back at me. “He smells like you.”
“The fuck?”
“It’s faint,” Corey says, straightening. “But definitely there.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t have to, because it doesn’t take a genius to get what he’s implying.
I shrug, because even if that’s true. It’s not my fucking fault they attacked him. Who sleeps in the forest overnight? On their own?
Fucking humans.
“Will he live?” That’s the more pressing question.
Corey glances up at me as he starts setting up an IV. “You’re lucky I keep human stuff here just in case. He should really be in a hospital.”
“Not happening.”
He smirks. “You could always bite him.”
I know he’s joking. Doing that to random humans is a death wish, but fuck me, if a part of me likes that idea a little too much. “Do what you can.”
I force myself to leave before I can say or do something stupid.
Corey will either save Morgan or he won’t.
Hours passbefore Corey joins me outside on the back patio. It’s late afternoon, but we’re shaded from the sun here and a welcome breeze blows through every now and again. I’ve been looking out at the trees for Goddess knows how long, trying not to think about what’s happening upstairs.
Corey sighs as he collapses into the seat next to me. His skin is several shades lighter than Callum’s, but they have the same dark eyes, same smile. He’s not smiling now, though, far from it.
He looks exhausted too. Which for a shifter is cause for concern. “All right?”
“Yeah. Had to give Morgan some of my blood.” He yawns, then slumps further into his seat, like he hasn’t just dropped a conversational bomb.
“You did what?”
He frowns. “He’d lost too much blood and I’m a match, so I gave him mine. It’ll take me a while to recover, that’s all.”
“Your blood,” I clarify, just to make sure I heard him right. “Your shifter blood that is very muchnot human.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t roll his eyes, but I can tell he wants to. “Relax, for fuck’s sake. It’s not going to turn him or anything.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“At the most, I think it’ll make him a little edgy for a while, like if he was high. But considering I don’t see him waking up any time soon, it’s not a problem.”
“I still don’t like it.” I fuckinghateit.
