bullets pierced him in the back. He dragged her tighter, gathering himself, focusing his energy for one last blast of power before he was spent.
The effort was draining. And it wasn’t enough. He blinked hard, blood in his eyes. This was it. They left together or not at all. She’d die in the crossfire if he couldn’t get them out.
He tried again forcing his energy outwards to encompass her, feeling a burn and exhaustion in his bones and mind that he hadn't felt for centuries. Lucas roared in agony, demanding his body respond and somehow, find the energy to take her with him.
In a final rush he had her, a cold wind whipping around them, her apartment the destination fixed in his mind as they vanished.
The apartment was quiet and still, the only noise a slight hum from the refrigerator in the kitchen. The anarchy of the moment before was now thousands of miles away. Lucas walked to her bedroom and laid her down on the bed. His legs shaky, movements as graceful as a drunk.
Christ, how weak am I?
Valerie was alive but the chest wound was nasty and long. He pushed at the flesh lightly, attempting to ascertain how deep the wound was but she cried out in agony and he realized it was an absolutely appalling idea for him to coat his fingers in her blood.
His fangs were extended, the desire for her blood painful and getting worse. It felt like a fist was wrapped around his entrails, jerking tighter in a frantic compulsion to lap her dry. Not only was he in desperate need of blood, but here Valerie was, the most exotic forbidden drink. Better than water in a desert, her body splayed out invitingly before him.
Her scent and blood surrounded him, seeped into his clothing and coated his hands and skin. Lucas heard a noise and realized it was him, a gasp and desperate groan of hunger and weakness he couldn’t control.
Valerie wasn't just nourishment, but excitement and pure life that could course through him.
All he had to was drink.
Base desire. He tore his gaze away from her jerkily, rocking backwards on his heels, the movements uncoordinated so that he fell backwards, landing hard on the floor.
He had to give her his blood. That would heal her even if the consequences to himself would be severe. The urgent need to feed her almost overwhelmed him, chased his own hunger to the back of his mind. He bit his wrist quickly, the wound from where Marion had taken out a chunk of his flesh, already healed. He moved his wrist towards her mouth but paused.
Slow down.
Think.
He was acting like a rash young man when both of their fates could be changed forever in the next few moments.
Lucas inhaled deeply, pressing the flat of his palms over his eyes as he tried to cut through a haze of blood lust, weakness, and desire for her.
Was this the only option? Giving her his blood would give her power over him. Already, he was drawn to her. How much worse would it be if they had that connection? His fingers went back to the wound on her chest, hovering above it, wanting to see and touch the internal damage. His hand shook to touch her, but he held himself poised and still.
God, he wanted her.
He thought of those who were still loyal to him. Who could he trust, how soon could anyone be here to feed her instead of him doing it himself? It wasn't feasible. Things were so unstable it wouldn't do to have another vampire feed her, have a hold over her and thus over him, especially as Marion already knew about Valerie and his interest in her.
The dilemma was simple. Feed her or let her die. No alternative. He sat on the ground next to her bed and brought his wrist to his mouth again, the second wound closed but pink. Wrist pressed against his fang, he reopened the skin, saw his black blood sluggishly pool to the surface and leaned towards Valerie, a riot of emotion in him like birds batting against a cage. Even though he dreaded this moment and how it might alter the future and give her power over him, it was still a sacred act. An act of devotion to give of himself to her, in order to sustain her life.
Feeding another was intimate, the act sexual, personal and not done lightly, with emotional ramifications and vulnerability.
Her lips were cool, a