He nods limply, his face pressed against my neck.
Dripping wet, I carry him back to his bed and grit my teeth when he bites me again—this time in the shoulder. I have just enough time to grab a decorative bowl from the bathroom and hold it out for Nolan before he vomits. He shakes so hard afterwards, I’m sure he’s going to rattle his teeth right out of his head.
This is worse than when he first couldn’t drink bagged blood.
As I watch him puke up bile, I’m terrified that I’m going to lose him here and now to that fucking curse. When he has a moment to catch his breath, I tuck him under the blankets, hoping they will help with the shivering, and then stride quickly into the bathroom. After digging through my pants pockets, my hands fumble with the phone when I finally pull it free. I nearly drop it three separate times and enter my pin wrong twice before I pull up my contacts. Dialing the number of my last called, I pray to those celestial fucking bastards that she’ll be able to save him.
Chapter 23
Callie
"Hello?” I call out from the doorway of Nolan’s suite while slipping off my muddy boots.
“Thank fuck you’re here,” Donovan exclaims, his knuckles turning white from how hard he grips the upstairs banister. “He’s…” His rough voice trails off as he looks back over his shoulder.
“We’ll figure this out,” I promise, taking a deep breath before I march up the stairs. “Tell me what happened.”
“Short version?” Donovan sighs while watching my ascent. The muscles in his bare arms and chest flex as I hear wood splintering underneath his fingers. “We argued. Got clean. Fooled around. He fed and then puked his guts out. Now he’s barely conscious.”
Fear sinks into my belly as I make it to the top. Nolan lies in his bed, his eyelids drooping to show no more than slits of ice blue and his body shaking despite the nearly sweltering temperature of the room. On the bedside nightstand next to him is a bottle of tequila, two shot glasses, a glass of water, and a white and gold ceramic bowl stained with red.
I rush to his side and sit on the edge of the bed, running my hand along his forehead and down his cheek. His skin is damp and freezing to the touch, as if he covered himself in snow before climbing under the covers.
Nolan leans into the heat of my hand and breathes, “Callie.”
“Hi, Casanova,” I whisper with a pained smile. My free hand captures his limp one, and I squeeze. “It looks like you’re having a rough night.”
Donovan snorts at my gross underestimation of how spectacularly awful this evening has been. He leans back against the banister that looks out over the downstairs portion of Nolan’s suite, his arms crossed over his chest and leg bouncing with nervous energy.
“Could be better,” Nolan rasps, and it takes a herculean amount of effort for him to fully open his eyes. They are filled with exhaustion and remorse. “I’m sorry, love.” He takes a labored breath. “I’m dying.”
“Not for a very long time, if I have a say in it,” I retort, pulling his knuckles to my lips. The mere suggestion of losing him feels like a clawed hand punched through my chest and is now gripping my heart, each pointed finger stabbing at the delicate tissue. In what I hope is a reassuring voice, I announce, “I have an idea that will help you until we can figure out how to free you from the curse.”
Nolan shakes his head against the maroon pillow. “Dead end. Gina couldn’t remember the spell.”
“And I have goddess grade magic. We’ll find a way,” I insist, my stubbornness creating enough of an edge to fight off my own exhaustion. “But let’s worry about getting you through tonight.”
“How are you going to do that?” Donovan asks, his gaze so intense it robs me of breath when I look at him. The warrior he’s been raised to be is coming through. He will fight and die for those he’s claimed as his own.
“He has to feed from me,” I answer with a quiet calm. Unable to look Donovan in the eye, I bring my gaze back to Nolan. “I know we agreed not to,” I whisper, moving to hold his hand between my own, “but for now, I think it’s the only way.”
A mixture of pure hunger and deep shame takes over Nolan’s features before he turns his head away. It’s not a no, but I don’t understand why he looks so guilty when we’re dating now.
“Angel, he’s been puking up every drop of blood, no matter who it’s from,” Donovan responds, striding over beside me. His straight black brows knit together with worry as he looks down at Nolan. “What makes you different?”
“Remember last year when I asked Nolan about why vampires need blood to survive? It’s not for the blood itself, but for the life magic that exists within it,” I explain, my thumb gently stroking Nolan’s palm. He still won’t look at me. “My assumption is, for whatever reason, that the curse makes Nolan need more magically enriched blood.” A weak smile pulls at the corner of my lips. “My sugar cube is directly in the tea, so to speak. There isn’t any blood more potent with magic than mine—excluding the goddess herself, of course.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Donovan asks, putting his hands on his hips. I do my best not to notice how low his jeans rest without a belt, exposing more of his taut abs and Adonis belt, and the prominent bulge behind his straining zipper.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I reply, swallowing heavily. I squeeze Nolan’s hand again and speak to his far away expression. “But none of this matters unless you are willing to feed from me. I won’t force you to do it.”
“I will,” Donovan growls.
“No, you won’t,” I counter. By my tone, it’s obvious just how far I will go to fight him on it. “It has to behischoice.” I place Nolan’s hand on his chest, and then I lean over his body until he’s forced to look at me. “Casanova, you’re going tohave tomake that choice now. The longer we wait, the worse you’re going to be.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Nolan rasps, and he looks so sad that it makes my eyes sting with tears. “I didn’t want this for you. Me using you like this.”
“You’re not using me, at least not in the way you’re implying.” I kiss his temple and then whisper, “I love you, Nolan Campbell. Let me do this for you.”
