Page 22 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Ariel

I ’ m ushered outside the room as nurses rush in. My hands are trembling, and tears stream down my face unchecked.

Through the transparent glass, I can still see Noah—his small body so still now, wires trailing from his chest, the machines beeping faster than I can breathe.

My phone kept blaring in my pocket, but I was consumed with worry, with watching every shallow breath he took, with holding onto him like my presence could somehow keep him safe.

I’d touched his face, stroked his clammy skin, and whispered promises against his ear, promises that we’d go home soon, that this nightmare would finally be over. But then… he seized. Right there in front of me.

The color drained from his face, his little limbs convulsed, and I couldn’t do anything but scream for help. Now I’m out here useless while they try to stabilize him again.

The doctors still don’t know what’s causing the sudden setback. The nurses already drew blood earlier, but we’re still waiting on answers. And I’m breaking.

I just stood there and watched while the doctors tried to stop his convulsions. I heard my name, but it sounded distant like it was being called from underwater. I turned to my left, and there he was.

Luca .

Standing there. I wanted to run into his arms and cry my eyes out against his broad chest, but I couldn’t move. I just stood there, trembling, silent tears streaming down my face.

He steps closer, and for a second, I think I might fall apart completely. His hand reaches out—hesitant at first, then firm as he cups my elbow and steadies me. The warmth of his touch nearly undone me.

“Ariel,” he says softly, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it. “Talk to me. What happened?”

I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak. A sob claws its way up, but I swallow it down. My eyes flick back to the glass, to the small body lying motionless on the hospital bed as the doctors get the convulsing under control.

“He had a seizure,” I whisper, barely holding myself together. “Luca… our son is in there, and I don’t know what to do.”

My voice cracks, my words shaking as the truth bleeds out of me with each breath. His grip on my elbow tightens, and for a moment I brace myself—for anger, for shouting, for blame.

I expect him to lash out, to accuse me of keeping his child from him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls me into his arms. Strong, steady. No hesitation.

His scent wraps around me, warm and familiar, and I crumble against him. His chin brushes the top of my head as he whispers into my hair, his voice raw and steady.

“I’m here now. He’s going to be fine.”

He unwraps his arms from around me, but he doesn’t stop touching me, his hand lingers at my back like he needs the contact just as much as I do. A throat clears behind me. I turn to find Dr. Eli standing there.

“How is he?” I ask quickly, wiping at my cheeks. He glances between me and the man beside me, whose arm is still wrapped protectively around my waist, as if deciding whether it’s the right time to say what he needs to say. I step in quickly.

“This is Luca… Noah’s biological father.” A flicker of surprise crosses Dr. Eli’s face before he wipes it clean, slipping back into clinical detachment.

“His blood tests just came back from the lab. He has a severe bacterial infection—meningitis. It likely spread rapidly through his bloodstream and triggered the seizure.

If he doesn’t receive plasma soon, his condition could deteriorate significantly.” Then, turning to Luca, he adds, “It’s a good thing you’re here. We can test to see if you’re a match for him.”

“What are the chances?” Luca asks,

“There’s about a 50% chance you’ll be a match,” the doctor replies. “But being his biological father significantly increases the odds.”

“I want to be tested now,” Luca says, jaw tight with urgency. “And if I’m a match, how soon can his treatment start?”

Dr. Eli nods. “We’ll begin with HLA typing and a full blood panel to rule out any infections or underlying conditions on your end. The testing process typically takes about two days. If you’re confirmed as a match, you’ll be required to come in for two additional days of evaluations.”

He pauses, then adds, “Once you’re medically cleared, we’ll move forward with plasma collection.”

His expression grows more serious.

“Noah also needs to be stabilized first. He’ll likely undergo a course of IV antibiotics and supportive therapy before we can safely proceed with the transfusion.”

“How long will that take?” Luca asks, voice taut.

“If everything goes well your results come back, and Noah’s condition improves, we’re looking at roughly a week before we can perform the transfusion. But that depends entirely on how he responds over the next few days.”

The thought that Luca could be a prospective donor for my son settles over me like a fragile kind of hope. I clasp my hands together in front of me, as if in silent prayer.

It feels good—relieving, even to have someone else take charge for once. His presence behind me is steady, grounding, reassuring.Dr. Eli turns slightly toward Luca.

“The lab is just down the hall on the second floor. A nurse will escort you there now to begin the testing.”

Luca nods without hesitation, already shifting his weight as if ready to follow. “Can I see him now?” I ask quietly.

“He’s stable enough,” Dr. Eli replies. “Just for a few minutes. But stay calm, he's still under observation.”

My legs nearly give out with relief, and if it weren’t for Luca’s hand gripping my waist, I would’ve crumbled to the cold hospital floor.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Dr. Eli says with a curt nod before turning away.

Luca turns me to face him, his eyes burning into mine and I can feel the questions behind his gaze.

“I’ll go with the nurse,” he says, voice low, commanding. “Go see our son.”