Shane was dead.
He was pretty sure he was dead, anyway, or at least near to it, because for some glorious, terrible reason, his mind had conjured him the sultry voice of his vampire, with strong hands and a gentle touch. Lace and leather pressed against his cheek, and his forehead brushed skin. He snuggled deeper into the sensation, and a soft, floral scent greeted him.
“We’re almost home,” his vampire whispered.
A light sprung on, faint and distant beyond his eyelids, and someone’s fingers intruded into his pocket—fuck? No, that was just his vampire, that was all right then. Keys rattled. Everything dimmed again at the sound of a door closing.
“My god, you live like this, my little swan?” his vampire muttered.
“Been… distracted.” Shane had been, hadn’t he? Distracted trying to find someone, someone who was now here. Which meant it had worked. Except he’d have much preferred it to work in reality and not whatever half-dead state of delirium he’d fallen into. “I keep meaning to—to—”
What were they talking about again? It didn’t seem terribly important anymore.
A soft, flat surface met his back, and the warmth of his vampire pulled away. “No,” Shane whimpered—whimpered—god, what was wrong with him? Blood loss, probably. Dying. Losing his mind. He felt his shoes tugged off, and for a moment he swore the faintest brush of fingers rested against the hem of his shirt where it had ridden up to the lip of his jeans.
“Can you sleep like this?”
Shane could sleep like anything right now. It was taking everything in him not to. A thought at the back of his mind grabbed for him, a floundering thing in the dark. Oh, right. “Insulin,” he muttered.
“Where? I’ll get it.”
“End table.” He forced himself onto his side, blinking his eyes open. He could make out the dim light from his studio window and a cloud of black stars that bubbled and shone, trying to drown him back into unconsciousness. He lost the battle, he was pretty sure, because what felt like an instant later his vampire was gently shaking him, asking a question.
“Cygnus, I need to know how much. It’s the long acting one—I think that’s right?”
A video was playing in the background, a single bright spot against his eyelids as a feminine voice explained something about needles.
“Glucose app,” he muttered. He should have been checking for potential adjustments throughout the night, probably…
What felt like an instant later, his vampire read him off the number, and he tried to nod, replying with his most common nightly dosage. It would be close enough.
Soft fingers drew up the hem of his shirt, grazing his skin gently before pinching it. He barely felt the needle. What he did feel was the way his vampire’s touch lingered, one thumb gliding gently across his abdomen. A part of him tried very hard to flash some absurd warning—this was weird, wasn’t it?—but he couldn’t fathom why. This wasn’t real. Or it was real but it wasn’t… it wasn’t…
“I have to give you a little venom,” his vampire was murmuring, “to help your blood replenish.”
Shane didn’t have time to respond before his hand was lifted, flipped over, and the next thing he felt was a pinch of pain, then a high. It lifted him up, pulled him out of consciousness in a whole new way, leaving his body loose and light after it had passed. His vampire let him go. Shane reached for him, instinctively, “Don’t leave...”
His breath appeared first, the presence of him close and heavy. His voice sent a thrill down Shane’s spine. “You’re mine now, Cygnus. You won’t lose me again.”
Lips brushed his fingers, then his palm, and finally his wrist. Another prick.
The last thing Shane remembered was bliss.