Page 29

CELINE

I jolt out of a deep sleep with a yelp of terror as a loud crash invades my dreams.

Midnight, who sleeps beside me at the edge of the mattress, gives an answering yowl. My heart races from the unexpected awakening and immediately I scan the room for intruders.

To be safe I grab my gun from the holder on the side table and quietly slide out of bed.

Shoving my arms in my sweatshirt I cover my braless form and slip my phone into my pocket in case I need to make a call for backup.

Gun trained in front of me, I start my patrol of the bedroom, bathroom, and closet.

Nothing jumps out at me, but I don’t let my guard down. Has the man that broke into my apartment come back to finish the job?

Wait.

Zavier.

He’s the first line of defense sleeping out on the couch and if there truly was an aggressor he’d be attacked first. Is that what the loud bang was? Shit.

Stealthily, I walk toward the door leading to the main living space and take a deep breath to center myself. The man has done so much for me I need to help him if he’s being murdered out there. God, I hope that’s not what’s happening.

Yanking on the door I hold the gun in front of me.

No sounds emit from anywhere but that doesn’t mean anything.

They could be hiding and waiting to make their next move.

I shut the door behind me, so Midnight isn’t stuck in any crossfire and crouch behind a fake plant in the corner.

Nothing occurs with my appearance, so I stand slowly and walk around the living room, checking behind the curtains and couch.

A low groan comes from the front area of the space, and I hold my gun back up in preparation of an attack. Nobody pops out and the kitchen seems to be clear. Another small thud against the front door followed by a mutter calls me that way.

I peek through the peep hole but don’t see anyone standing there. From what I can tell there’s nobody on either side of the door.

“Celine.” It’s spoken so softly I almost don’t catch it. “Celine.” In a voice sounding suspiciously like Zav’s, I glance down, not having thought of the floor right in front of the door, and see him sprawled out like a broken doll.

“Zavier!” His name rips out of me, a cross between a gasp and a scream.

As carefully as I can, I open the door since he’s leaning partially against it. Despite my best efforts, his head flops fully onto the ground with a sound that has me cringing. Hopefully he didn’t get a concussion on top of whatever else has happened to him.

His breath leaves him in heavy pants, and he barely moves when I squat down next to him.

“What happened?” I squeak getting a better look at the mess that is the man in front of me.

“Blood,” he murmurs. “I need blood.”

Blindly he grabs at the air trying to find me and I grasp his waiting palm.

It doesn’t seem like he can move much in his current state, so I do my best to hoist under his armpits and drag him into the apartment.

The crimson trail he leaves on the floor will be interesting to get out of the hall carpet and flooring.

His small moans of pain hurt my heart, but there’s not much I can do.

“You need what?” I couldn’t have heard him right. He’s in a half delusional state.

“Blood.” This time his answer is a small, strained breath.

Awful skid sounds ring out as I continue to drag him further into the apartment. His chest seems to be giving him the most pain, so I gently flip him over to survey the damage.

“Zavier. Oh my God.” I cover my mouth with both hands at the sight before me. Skin lays torn and disfigured across his lower abdomen. Bits of his shirt that remain stick to the cuts and barely hang onto his lean frame.

Blood steadily pumps out of the slices, and I can’t figure out what could’ve done this.

They look like claw marks, but the size and shape make it seem like it was a large animal.

How he made it all the way up here I have no idea.

I hover my hand above the gaping wound not quite knowing what to do to help.

“I need to call 911. We need an ambulance and a hospital.” Gulping in air while my thoughts run frantically through what I need to do, I’m halted when Zav weakly grabs my wrist.

“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 it goes 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.

“What the fuck?” My eyes bounce between Zavier and the empty bag on the ground next to him. “A man almost died in front of me and downed blood like it was Kool-Aid.”

Ambling over to the bathroom, I wash Zav’s blood off my hands.

Risking a glance in the mirror I see a nightmare reflecting back at me.

Hair tussled both from sleep and panic. Eyes full of dismay and tinged with exhaustion widen at my appearance.

I look like shit, but Zav is so much worse off than me.

Is he really going to be okay?

The sensible part of my brain says there’s no way any of that just happened and yet he’s out there lying on the floor passed out. I need to go to bed and wake up in the morning. Maybe it really is all a dream and when I wake up, we’ll both laugh at my crazy imagination.