Bleeding from half a dozen small wounds, breath burning in his throat, joints popping as Fitzroy's teeth slowly descended in spite of everything, Celluci knew with cold certainty that he was losing. And there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.
Blood trickling down into her hand, Vicki dove across the room, buried her fingers in Henry's hair and yanked his head up.
Celluci felt lips peel back against his skin and the lightest kiss of pain. Then the heated contact jerked away and teeth sheared the air in the hollow between jaw and neck.
Vicki straddled both men and yanked again, harder.
Howling, Henry reared back onto his knees.
Without the grip on his hair she would have lost her balance, but she managed to bring her arm around, blood soaking her cuff and dripping to the floor, and shove the wound against his face.
She cried out as his teeth cut deeper into flesh and the fingers of his good hand clutched almost to the bone. Then she cried out again as he began to suck, mouth working desperately at her wrist.
Vaguely aware of Celluci scrambling clear, she half slid down Henry's body until she knelt behind him, free hand moving from his hair to his shoulder. Eyes closed, she could feel the blood leave her body for his, feel his urgency catch her up and sweep her along, feel herself begin to be lost in his Hunger. He'd been a passive recipient the last time she'd forced her blood on him. While his need might be no greater now, it was far from passive.
This had a reality that burned, that consumed the memories of all the other times Henry had fed.
Her eyes snapped open as, snarling with frustration, he thrust her wrist aside and whirled to face her. She rocked back. He followed, lips and teeth stained crimson, eyes compelling her to offer her throat, to submit.
She felt her chin begin to rise and forced it back down. "Fuck that!" The hoarse whisper traveled just far enough. "You feed where I allow." She brought her left hand up between them, trailing scarlet streamers in the air.
It wasn't enough. The blood came too slowly.
He batted the wound aside, laid his teeth against the soft flesh of the throat, and breathed in the rich scent of life.
Life...
He knew this life.
Then the Hunger roared forward, out of control, and his teeth pierced skin.
A blow struck him hard in the side. He lost his hold, twisted as he fell and landed on his back, staring up at a dark-haired male who dared to take him from his prey.
Another blow. He grabbed at the leg and heaved it away, surging back onto his knees as part of the same motion.
Vicki winced as Celluci hit the wall but kept her eyes locked on Henry. Just for a second, she'd felt the Hunger falter. She could reach him. She had to reach him. It was the only chance for all three of them.
Right hand clamped tourniquet tight above the wound, from the pain involved she suspected his teeth had torn a hole significantly larger than her initial incision, she again offered her left.
He started to dive at her, checked, and slowly raised his eyes up from the welling blood to her face.
The Hunger bucked and writhed, but he held it tight, pulling strength from the blood he'd already taken. Pulling strength from her blood.
"Henry?"
Henry. Yes. A name to leash the Hunger with. He forced his lips to form a name to help recage it.
"Vicki."
She frowned as he swayed, and shuffled toward him, still on her knees. "Henry, you've got to keep feeding. You haven't taken nearly as much as you need. Besides... " She glanced down at her wrist and looked quickly away again. "Besides," she repeated, "we're just wasting it on the floor."
Henry moaned and crumpled.
Vicki caught him, smearing his back with blood. Holding him awkwardly, she dragged her legs out from under, and gathered him onto her lap.
"No... " He pushed her wrist away as she laid it against his mouth. The brief taste of her nearly catapulted the Hunger to freedom. The bloodscent alone tore at hastily erected barricades. "I don't trust... myself."
She laid her wrist against his mouth again, blood dribbling down over lips clamped shut and staining his cheeks. That he was too weak to stop her merely proved her point. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Henry, stop being a martyr. I