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“No.” Green eyes reflect back at me in pain. “No ambulance and no police.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” I’m frantic at this point as blood pools around his prone form. “You’re dying! You need medical attention.” With shaky fingers I grab my phone from where it rests in my sweatshirt pocket and attempt to dial. As I’m about to type in “9” Zav swats the device out of my hand, and itgoes sliding across the floor hitting the wall on the far side of the room.

“What is wrong with you? I’m trying to help!” I attempt to get up again, but he somehow keeps me rooted in place.

His gasps for air are sounding more and more dire. “I ... told ... you...” Another wheeze and a groan of pain. “...blood ... I need ... blood.” Fingers unwind from around my wrist to grasp his chest. “There’s an emergency blood bag in my closet.” He points in the direction of the bedroom. “It’s...in a safe...password is... 235463.” Blood sprays across my front when he coughs.

This is all too fucking weird.

Scrambling for the bedroom closet I nearly trip over my own feet. Midnight almost gets mowed over when I rip open the door since he’s laying right in front of it. He must be just as confused with what’s going on as I am.

“Blood bag. Safe. Blood bag. Safe.” I chant to myself shoving clothes aside trying to locate what I seek. “Bingo!”

A square safe hides underneath a pile of clothes in the back corner and I shove them aside to access the keypad. Beeps confirm my password is correct when I type it in and reveal a stereotypical hospital blood bag sitting inside. A cool draft of air hits me and the bag is cold to the touch when I snag it. Plastic mushes under my fingers as the liquid inside sloshes around. Trying not to think about how weird this is, I rush back out to the living room and over to Zav where he lies on the floor.

If it’s possible he looks even worse than a minute ago. His skin is pallid in color, eyes mostly closed, and pain contorts his handsome features. Resting my fingers against his neck I feel for a pulse and panic when it's very faint.

“Zavier!” I grip both of his shoulders and shake him lightly. He moans which I take as a good sign, he’s not dead yet.

“I’m ... here ... pretty girl.” His arm trembles from the exertion of trying to hold it up. He extends his hand to me and makes a grabby motion. “Blood?”

“Right here.” I use both hands to place it into his, helping him hold it when he almost drops the bag. “I … you need more than just a transfusion and Zav I’m not a nurse, I’m a cop. I don’t know how to give you a transfusion in the first place. How do you even have blood on hand?”

He shakes his head. “Just give me … the … blood. That’s all I … need.”

His lips are nearly white in color and fear roots me to the spot.

“You … what?”

Green eyes meet mine and there’s fear there. Strangely, enough, though I don’t think it’s to do with the injury. “I … need … to … drink.”

I look at the blood bag clasped between both our hands. Surely, he can’t mean?

He nods like he reads my thoughts.

Fuck.

“Do I need to take the top off for you?”

How the fuck am I being so calm about this? It has to be a dream, right? A really strange nightmare?

In silence, he nods again, and I quickly execute the task of pulling the plug off.

Zavier tries to sit up to not spill it on himself, but struggles to lift his head off the ground. Shifting behind him to help support his weight I jostle him as little as possible, but he still winces. Then, I watch in fascination and horror as he drinks the blood. Greedy slurps of the viscous red liquid have dribbles sliding down his face and onto his neck. Even through my confusion I stroke his hair back and try to hold him up the best I can.

What the fuck?

Before my very eyes Zav’s wound starts to slowly knit closed. I blink as if that’ll make it untrue but between blinks it looks better.

That’s not possible.

In record time, Zav downs the whole bag and slumps back against my legs. For a second I panic that the blood did him in, but his face is lined with sleep, and I watch his chest rise and fall. I run my finger over one of the angry, puckered scars of the previously bloody cuts and feel nothing but smooth skin. The wound isn’t fully healed, but it’s way more than any human being should ever have healed in the amount of time he has.

Midnight perches in the doorway of the bedroom observing the whole scene with a swish of his tail.

I glance back down at the unconscious man in my lap and reach behind me to snag a blanket off the couch.

With his weight and the blood all around us I don’t want to do more damage to the room, myself, or Zavier. Situating it around him, I ease out from under his frame and stand. Blowing out a breath I stand there for a second in disbelief.