survivable as long as his neck wasn’t broken. Floating with him toward the bank, she kept on talking to him. She didn’t want to risk wrenching his neck by trying to haul him out of the lake, so she stayed in it with him, holding him so his head remained clear of the water.
Her arms were starting to tire and her throat beginning to choke with all the scared emotions she refused to allow free rein when she realized she was an idiot. Tilting back his head, she deliberately pressed her wrist against his mouth. No response. She looked around for something to break the flesh. Her sword was too far away, but she was just close enough to a sharp rock to graze the skin and bring a bare hint of blood to the surface.
Placing it against Naasir’s mouth, she waited. Nothing.
“Drink, damn you.” It came out a snarl.
His fangs burned into her flesh. There was no pleasure this time, just the suction of him drinking her blood.
Each time his throat moved as he swallowed, she felt her smile widen. Even when her head began to grow heavy, her blood surging into him, she didn’t pull away her hand.
The suction suddenly stopped, Naasir’s eyes flicking open in a blaze of silver as he lifted his head. “Your neck’s not broken.” Her voice came out slurred.
Naasir moved, hauling her out of the water with primal strength. Leaving her on the bank, he disappeared. She stared up at the blurry night sky, her mind trying to hold on to thoughts without success.
Then Naasir was beside her again. He had a pack with him. A pack. One of their packs, she realized dully. They’d left it behind when they ran from the swarm.
Opening it, he took out strips of jerky and said, “Eat!” When she just stared at him, he began to tear the jerky into tiny pieces and feed them to her.
She turned her head away after a few pieces of the cured meat. “Salty.”
He hauled her back with a grip on her jaw, his fingers clawed. “Eat this or I’ll hunt and make you eat raw meat.”
She scowled at him but ate the jerky—there was a grimness on his face that told her he was dead serious. Waiting until he saw she was doing as ordered, he went and got some water from the lake, then dropped a cleansing tablet in it.
“We don’t need that,” she muttered as the water cleared, sick of jerky.
“It’ll taste better.” Helping her to sit braced against him, he brought the bottle to her lips and she drank. “Eat the rest.”
She ate it, slowly able to feel her mind start to clear much as the water had done after he dropped in the tablet. When he handed her a fistful of high-energy candy, she ate that, too, drank more water. “Enough,” she said. “I’m feeling better.”
Coming around to face her, he stared at her for a long time before nodding. Then he picked up her wrist and licked over the bite marks and grazed skin to seal the wound. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said afterward, tone harsh.
She rolled her eyes, fingers curling gently into her palm. “I should’ve let you drown?”
“Vampires can’t drown.”
“Are you sure?” She didn’t know if the theory had ever been tested with long-term immersion. “And you’re not a vampire.”
He brushed the pad of his thumb over the bite bruise, his fangs flashing as he bared his teeth at her. “You almost drowned yourself.”
“Do you know the words ‘thank you’?”
A growl rumbled in his chest . . . but then he bent his head and pressed a soft and sweetly unexpected kiss on the bruise.
Her heart skipped a beat, fell right into his hands. “You’re welcome,” she whispered, and when he lifted his head, hugged him tight. “I was so afraid for you.”
His arms came around her, his jaw nuzzling against her temple in a caress that was becoming intimately familiar. “I moved too fast because the bugs were almost on me.” A squeeze. “We’re both wet.”
“At least we have dry clothes this time.” No replacement leathers for her, but gear just as tough and durable.
They held on to each other for a long time before separating to dress after Naasir went and retrieved the second pack. “I hid our trails, too,” he told her once they were both in dry clothes. “Buried your broken feathers.” His eyebrows drew together. “How hurt are you?”