I was dreading the time. Sarah was due to arrive any minute now, and while I had told Antun I’d be fine, I was starting to wonder if I really would be.
Michael sat next to me on the couch, a hand on my knee to keep it from bouncing. He gave my leg a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright. It’s just Sarah, and you know she can’t take me away from you.” He kissed my cheek, making my blush rise all over. He smiled and nuzzled his nose on my cheek where he’d kissed, my skin hot. I squirmed at the tickle and couldn’t help my own grin.
The doorbell rang, and like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on my head, my blush vanished, leaving me with an almost sickly pallor.
“Deep breaths, Drew,” Michael murmured as Syla went to answer the door. I heard him steadily breathing in a four-count rhythm, and I joined in, matching him breath for breath to settle my nerves.
“Oh, you didn’t have to,” I heard Syla say as she opened the door.
“I insist. I’m a guest after all; it only makes sense to bring a gift for the hosts.” Sarah’s voice was bright as she came inside. I saw a bottle of wine in Syla’s hands as she came up the stairs with Sarah in tow.
“Drew, do you mind helping me in the kitchen for a minute?” Syla asked as she headed there with the bottle. Was it wine, or cider? I couldn’t tell from the color.
I caught a look from Sarah, but I didn’t know how to interpret it, so I ignored her and went straight to the kitchen. “What’s up?” I asked as I leaned against the counter.
“Sarah brought a champagne. I’m thinking a charcuterie board would go really well with this. Can you help me set one up really quick?”
Luckily, we already had the fixings for a fairly good one. I got out cheeses, grapes, pickles, olives, and from the cupboard next to the fridge: various crackers, placing them on the counter while Syla looked for a suitable board. Finding one, she began setting things out on it.
I grabbed the jar of pickles, attempting to open it, but it was stuck. I tried again, no luck. I switched hands, wondering if a different grip would work. Syla saw me struggling and asked, “Would you like me to give it a go?”
I figured the worst thing that would happen would be that she couldn’t open it either. She grasped the lid and the bottom of the jar, wrenching as she grimaced with effort. While she too struggled, she grunted, “Maybe one of the men can do it? I wonder if my hands are too small. Do you mind…” she groaned with the effort of twisting the untwistable.
I understood what she meant. I stuck my head out of the kitchen and called out, “Would someone like to take a crack at opening the pickles? The jar is stuck; neither of us can get it to open.”
Instead of just one of them coming, all three of them – Antun, Michael, and Sarah – walked to the kitchen. Antun held out his hand for the jar, and Syla handed it to him. He muttered under his breath, “It’s really stuck on there…” After a minute of fighting the jar, he passed it onto Michael. “Maybe between the three of us we’ve loosened it?”
Michael took the jar, tapping the edge of the lid on the counter. “My mom uses this trick to open stuck jars. Hopefully,” he grunted out, “that… does… it…” Heaving a breath, he stared at the jar in his hands, still shut tight.
“May I?” Sarah asked, and we all turned to her. She thinks she can open it when none of the four of us could? Pfft, what a try-hard. Nevertheless, Michael passed the jar to Sarah. Her fingers brushed against his and a slight blush pinked her cheeks as she took it. She grabbed the lid in one hand and the bottom of the jar in the other. “One of my ‘gifts,’ as you called them, is superhuman strength. This shouldn’t be a problem for me at all.”
She tried, and tried. I heard something crackle but wasn’t sure what it was. Then all at once, the jar shattered in two, and Sarah yelped, quickly setting the halves down and holding her bleeding hand. Shards of glass littered the floor and danced in the vinegar of the pickles in the now technically open jar. Couldn’t use those now, but damn. Werewolves were strong.
“That’s really eerie, the eyes thing,” Sarah mumbled as she looked at Antun’s darkened eyes, the red having gone maroon and then almost black. She winced and looked back down at the hand she cradled, blood dripping onto the floor. “Geez, this stings.”
Michael said too casually, “I’ll get the first-aid kit,” as he already started walking out. Sarah watched him go with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. Just ‘cause he’s getting the first-aid kit, doesn’t mean squat for you, Sarah. God, just leave him be.
It didn’t take long to retrieve the kit, and Antun mentioned, “I did some medical work in the past, do you mind if I take a look?”
She hesitated, but nodded when she noticed Michael watching. I wanted to roll my eyes at her so bad. She was eating up his attention like a dog on chow.
“Hmm, you may need a couple of stitches,” Antun observed as he carefully held Sarah’s bleeding hand. “Part of it went rather deep and the bleeding doesn’t want to stop. Do you mind if I do it, or would you rather we take you to the hospital?”
Don’t you fucking dare say—
“The hospital, I think. I trust you, Antun, but I’d rather a currently licensed doctor or nurse did it instead.”
Michael offered, “Drew and I can take her.”
I beg your p ardon ? I turned to him, my eyes nearly screaming at him, but he wasn’t looking at me; he was staring at the blood that was all over Antun’s hands from checking Sarah’s. Almost entranced. Had he offered out of reflex? Because it didn’t seem like he was paying much attention.
“I’ll clean this up, don’t you worry about a thing,” Syla said, still in hostess mode despite her grey-blue eyes being darker than a storm in the presence of blood. “We’ll see you all when you get back.”
❖ 🩸 ❖
The scent of iron permeated the car. Why does Antun have to live all the way out here? At least the closest hospital was between Antun’s house and Seattle proper.
Michael opened both mine and Sarah’s door when we arrived, Sarah giving him a softly sweet, “Thank you.” I was surprised she wasn’t fully batting her eyelashes for how much she was playing it up. She stumbled and Michael caught her by the elbow to keep her from falling to the ground. “Thanks again,” she said in a shy voice.
Quit acting coy. You’re not.
Michael just nodded, still aloof and in his own mind. I didn’t want to have to worry about Sarah’s wellbeing, but I did worry about his. What was going on with him? We were all affected by the exposed blood, but he was acting more out of sorts than anyone. A thought popped into my head as I pondered.
When was the last time he fed?
I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk leading up to the ER. Shit, is that the problem? I glanced over at him, his back ramrod straight and eyes locked dead ahead. He hadn’t even noticed that I’d stopped.
Sarah, however, had. She looked back at me, throwing a me greedy smile. That bitch… there’s no way she could’ve planned for this, but she definitely thinks that she’s got the upper hand right now. But does she? If Michael hasn’t fed in a while, her blood has got to smell amazing. And tempting.
I jogged to catch up, and Sarah had to dodge an unruly bush as I barreled between the two of them. I grabbed Michael’s hand, shaking him out of his stupor. He blinked and turned to look down at me. My brows furrowed in worry, I asked, “Are you really thirsty right now?”
He nodded once and murmured, barely audible, “Parched.”
I glanced at Sarah in my periphery but didn’t turn to face her fully. I didn’t want to know if she’d heard. She was a supernatural being that was cinematically known for having great hearing. The likelihood that it was real was guttingly high. She probably knew exactly how much her blood was driving him crazy now.
Glass doors slid open as we approached, Sarah’s hand cradled in the other with a towel. We approached the desk and the admittance nurse asked blandly, “What brings you into the ER tonight?”
“I cut my hand on a broken jar. Another friend suggested I have it looked at and possibly stitched. All I know is that it doesn’t want to stop bleeding and it’s really starting to hurt,” Sarah added with a bit of a whine at the end, lifting her injured hand briefly and wincing.
Blood was soaking through the towel, and the nurse grabbed a clipboard from beside her computer. “One of you needs to fill this out before we take you back. There’re seats over there,” she pointed, “and over there. We’ll call up you as soon as we can.”
I grabbed the clipboard before Michael could, much to Sarah’s chagrin if her glare was any indication. Not that he’d been reaching. He was even more distracted here. It made sense though; under the sterile hospital smell was that familiar, coppery tang. Between the injuries, the surgeries, the blood bags in storage and in use – how could he not be distracted?
We turned to go sit, but Michael grasped my elbow, stopping me from following Sarah. “I need to take care of this,” he said, his evergreen eyes somehow darker than I’d ever seen them. It was almost like looking into a void, and it frightened me.
I just nodded, “Go, I’ve got this.”
“You sure? I know—”
“I can deal with Sarah on my own for a little while. What kind of manager would I be if I couldn’t?” I tried to tease. “Go, take care of it. We’ll be here.”
He grinned gratefully, pulling me to him and kissing me suddenly. It surprised me, but then I kissed him back with equal fervor. He pulled back and then pecked my lips, once, twice more.
Three kisses total. I love you.
Even in his current state, he thought to tell me, and in a fantastic way. I was melting inside. I wouldn’t have minded having more kisses, but he needed to go. “I’ll text you when I’m headed back.” He left through the same set of glass doors and started walking away from the hospital. We were still in a rural enough area that he could possibly get an animal or two if he was lucky.
I turned back toward the waiting room and saw Sarah, her eyes livid. This is going to be fun, I thought sarcastically to myself as I walked toward her, clipboard in hand. I sat down across from her, just out of kicking range. “First name: Sarah. Last name: Hastings. You want to use a middle initial at all?” I asked flatly.
“If only it was my other hand; I’d do it myself if I could,” Sarah groused.
“Well, you can’t, so deal with it,” I said, feeling zero sympathy for this woman who kept hitting on my boyfriend. “I don’t know your info, you’re going to have to talk. Now, middle initial: yes and what or no?”
Sarah’s nostrils flared, heat rising to her face in anger. “No.”
“Fine. Street address?”
She rattled it off to me, still fuming out the ears. Line after line, we filled out the form, eventually handing it back to the nurse at the front desk.
“Where’s Michael?” Sarah demanded as I sat back down.
I glared. “Not that its any of your business, but your little accident triggered Michael’s… condition. He couldn’t stay here unless he took care of it first. I’m sure your sniffer can smell it too, under all the sanitizer and bleach.” Sarah glowered at my choice of vocabulary, but she’d pissed me off.
Now, it was my turn. “So, he’s taking care of that because someone couldn’t resist the challenge and had to get herself involved. All we wanted tonight was to get to know what some of your gifts are. But now, we’re here.”
Sarah’s mouth set into a snarl. “It was an accident, or am I not allowed to have those?”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” I said. Leaning forward, I continued, “But when those mistakes negatively affect my loved ones, I take issue with it.”
Sarah flinched. As if my words had actually hurt her. “I’d never want to hurt Michael, and you know that. It was an accident, out of my control. If I’d known the jar would break, I’d have never done it, obviously.”
“Really,” I said without inflection. “Forgive me if I don’t trust that. You’re desperate for Michael’s attention; who knows what lengths you’ll go to?”
“You’re a bitch, Drew, you know that?” Then Sarah scoffed, “Fuck you.”
At that moment, a nurse called out, “Sarah Hastings?”
With daggered eyes on me, Sarah stood. She turned her nose up and away as she walked toward the nurse, the most obvious snub I’d ever seen.
“Takes one to know one,” I called out behind her, getting the last word in. Sarah whirled and bared her teeth at me as the door closed between us. The nurse who dealt with her was probably going to hate me. I could already imagine Sarah going on about how awful I am and how wonderful Michael is and how she deserves him more than me. I didn’t care, not like I’d ever see that nurse again.
My phone vibrated and I looked down. A selfie of Michael and I at the park lit the screen, along with a message from Michael.
Michael: Headed back now.
Drew: Feeling better?
Michael: Loads. Thanks for staying with Sarah and helping with the forms. I was useless tonight.
Drew: Untrue. Remind me who drove us here?
Michael: Fine. I guess I made for an okay chauffer, even in that state.
Drew: heart emoji
Drew: Sarah’s in the back now, not sure how long it’ll take.
Michael and I continued to text back and forth until he arrived back at the ER. He stepped inside and went straight to me, wrapping me in a hug. “Thanks again, Drew. I needed that.”
“Why haven’t you been feeding?” I whispered. “I thought we’d gone hunting enough for you to be okay,” I asked with concern as I pulled back.
He sighed, “I don’t know. It’s like… Do you ever get that awful urge to just not take your meds? Even though you know you need them?”
We both took medications for various things: ADHD, depression, anxiety. “I hate to admit that I do. So, it was kind of like that?” I clarified.
He nodded. I hugged him around the middle and his arms came to settle wrapped around me. The door to the back opened and Sarah came out, her hand wrapped in gauze. Here eyes blazed for a second before she calmed her expression as she saw us in our embrace.
She lifted her bandaged hand with a smile. “Good to go,” she said brightly to Michael. “Shall we?”
