Page 42 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Cassiopé

I can’t breathe.

My body was already burning before Léandre poured the alcohol on my wing, but now it feels like it’s on fire.

I know it’s supposed to be a good sign, but I can’t think straight.

And then he removes what’s left of the branch.

I believe my sanity leaves with the scream I release.

I didn’t even know I could scream like that.

“You need to shift,” Léandre tells me, so I try.

The key word in this being “try,” because nothing is happening.

I can’t do it, and I feel the tears start flowing again on my cheeks.

Am I completely broken?

I’m scared.

I’m so freaking scared.

I just want for the pain to disappear, for my wings to get back in, to curl on myself and sleep the bad experience away.

I don’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon, and that scares me even more.

“I think there might be splinters in,” Léandre whispers. “That might be why you can’t shift.”

That makes sense.

“Find my bag,” I manage to say between gritted teeth.

Why does talking feel like it hurts?

I hear him shuffle behind me, and then his steps bring him away from me to my left.

At this point, I have no idea where I am, where the house is, or even where the bags are.

I think I saw Léandre naked, but I’m not even sure.

My eyes have stayed closed most of the time. I feel like my body forced all my muscles to contract—including my eyelids—so that what isn’t supposed to be inside my body would get out.

If I’m not careful, I could break a tooth, too. Or at least severely damage a few of them by clenching my jaw.

It feels like an eternity before Léandre comes back.

What can I say? Time seems to stretch from pain.

Léandre doesn’t ask me what I want. Instead, he folds himself between the tree and me, raising my bag like an offering.

He opened it before doing so; all I need to do is shuffle things around and get my tweezers out of the pocket with all my beauty products.

I hand them to him when he drops my bag to the ground next to me and, yeah; I get a peek at his naked ass.

I don’t even have time to stare, though, because he’s already behind me again and touching my wing.

He takes a deep breath.

I know why.

There must be a lot of blood.

I can’t see it, but I can feel it dripping from my wound.

I also can feel it in the way the edges of my sight are becoming dark and everything else blurry.

I’m scared that if Léandre doesn’t get whatever splinters are inside my wound quickly, I might pass out.

That might be why my jaw and most of my muscles are so contracted. It’s like my mind is rebelling against the idea I could pass out.

Or… because it’s bloody painful.

I don’t scream this time when Léandre touches my wound, but there is a lot of huffing and hissing.

The tweezers feel like an electric shock against my skin and the worst is that I can feel every single little movement inside my wound. I can also hear it when Léandre scrapes my wing bone, and it sounds like someone is scratching a chalkboard.

And then I feel light.

I think I can shift now.

“You’re all good now,” Léandre says. “You can shift.”

I hear him as if he’s meters away when I know he’s right behind me, one of his hands still holding my upper wing bone.

Or maybe like I’m hearing through cotton.

That’s not good, right?

It’ll be okay if I can shift.

So, I do that.

I shift into my bat form momentarily, then back to my human form—with my wings still out.

“The bleeding stopped,” Léandre says, and I know I’ll be okay, so I shift my wings back in and fall to the ground.

The edges of my sight are black, and I can barely see what’s in front of me.

“What is happening to me?”

I think I said it in my mind, but the words leave my lips with a very dry and raspy tone.

My throat is feeling super dry, and I feel like all the liquid in my body left me, but what’s more preoccupying is the fact my vision is going gray. It’s getting darker and darker.

What the hell is happening to me?

“Blood.”

I’ve lost too much blood.

I need blood.

Léandre cut himself, and then his wrist is right under my nose.

He didn’t need to cut himself, truly. My canines lengthen and puncture each side of the cut and I start drinking.

Oh, did I forget to tell you? Humans don’t only call us vampires because of our speed and lifespans…

We’re the only shifter species that can survive on blood.

So, of course, it made it easier for them to call us that.

And right now, I’m truly embracing human folklore as I drink Léandre’s blood.