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Incubus Dreams :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“We have fed already this night. For Truth it will need to be a true feeding, but for me a taste will do.”
“Okay,” I said. I thought, will this work, and Jean-Claude’s answer was almost certain. He was almost certain that it would work.
“Would it work better to blood-oath him, then take the knife out?” I asked.
“Perhaps, ma petite, but the silver may also interfere with the process. We are hoping to bring him back to health, and this will not happen with the silver still in his body.”
I blinked and looked at Wicked. With the eyes gone all vampire, his bone structure was very clear, and I realized that he was very manly-man handsome. Very masculine, and when I looked at his brother, I could trace that same bone structure underneath all the facial hair. How had I not seen the resemblance before?
“We need to take the knife out first, then he feeds.” I looked down at my wrists. My left was still healing from Primo and the zombie last night. I was not offering up my right wrist. Never injure your gun hand if you can avoid it. I touched my neck. Requiem’s bite was still there, though almost healed. Damian’s bite was faintest. I wasn’t taking my top off, so breast was out. Neck it was. I was going to end up looking like a vampire junkie, always carrying a fresh bite mark. Oh, well.
“Sorry, I’m going over all the injuries. Right side of the neck for feeding.”
“He cannot sit up.”
“I’ll lay down.” I gave my gun to Smith.
His eyes widened. “What’s this for?”
“I’m going to let Truth feed on my neck. I’d rather not have to worry about whether he can touch my gun or not.”
“You don’t trust us,” Wicked said.
“I don’t trust anybody.” I started to lie down on top of Truth, but the knife was very much in the way.
Jean-Claude said inside my head, “The knife first, ma petite. ”
I knelt back and looked at the brother. “Do you want to do it, or do I do it?”
He seemed to understand without extra talk-nice for a change. “I will do it.” He took his free hand, because the other was still wrapped around his brother’s hand. He gripped the hilt of the blade and hesitated.
“It’s time, brother,” Truth said.
I moved my hair to one side so the right side of my neck stretched clean. Once the knife was out, we had a minute, maybe, to make him live, or let him die. Wicked stayed immobile, hand on his brother and the hilt.
“Do you want me to do it?” I asked.
“We have fed already this night. For Truth it will need to be a true feeding, but for me a taste will do.”
“Okay,” I said. I thought, will this work, and Jean-Claude’s answer was almost certain. He was almost certain that it would work.
“Would it work better to blood-oath him, then take the knife out?” I asked.
“Perhaps, ma petite, but the silver may also interfere with the process. We are hoping to bring him back to health, and this will not happen with the silver still in his body.”
I blinked and looked at Wicked. With the eyes gone all vampire, his bone structure was very clear, and I realized that he was very manly-man handsome. Very masculine, and when I looked at his brother, I could trace that same bone structure underneath all the facial hair. How had I not seen the resemblance before?
“We need to take the knife out first, then he feeds.” I looked down at my wrists. My left was still healing from Primo and the zombie last night. I was not offering up my right wrist. Never injure your gun hand if you can avoid it. I touched my neck. Requiem’s bite was still there, though almost healed. Damian’s bite was faintest. I wasn’t taking my top off, so breast was out. Neck it was. I was going to end up looking like a vampire junkie, always carrying a fresh bite mark. Oh, well.
“Sorry, I’m going over all the injuries. Right side of the neck for feeding.”
“He cannot sit up.”
“I’ll lay down.” I gave my gun to Smith.
His eyes widened. “What’s this for?”
“I’m going to let Truth feed on my neck. I’d rather not have to worry about whether he can touch my gun or not.”
“You don’t trust us,” Wicked said.
“I don’t trust anybody.” I started to lie down on top of Truth, but the knife was very much in the way.
Jean-Claude said inside my head, “The knife first, ma petite. ”
I knelt back and looked at the brother. “Do you want to do it, or do I do it?”
He seemed to understand without extra talk-nice for a change. “I will do it.” He took his free hand, because the other was still wrapped around his brother’s hand. He gripped the hilt of the blade and hesitated.
“It’s time, brother,” Truth said.
I moved my hair to one side so the right side of my neck stretched clean. Once the knife was out, we had a minute, maybe, to make him live, or let him die. Wicked stayed immobile, hand on his brother and the hilt.
“Do you want me to do it?” I asked.