Page 24 of You Only Die Twice

What’s left of my shriveled heart trembles at that thought, and I know for sure that I’m irrevocably fucked. I growl at her pussy, determined to fight anything real or imagined that dares to threaten her. I still have no clue what it is about her, but she will always be mine.

There’s a possessive urge here that I’ve never felt with any of the humans I’ve turned. One after the other, I kept looking for it, kept searching for it. Hell, I thought Gloria would be the one to fill that need in me, but right now, the only human that’s ever managed to grip me in any sort of way is the one writhing at my touch, begging me to let her come.

This small slip of a girl holds more power over me than even my enemies, and she doesn’t even know it. All she knows is the pleasure I’m giving her, the orgasm I’m about to force onto her body. She doesn’t know that with one wrong step, she could harm herself and shatter the fragile feelings curling through me.

Anger at letting such an insignificant human worm her way into my withered heart fills my body. Anger is a feeling I know intimately. It’s one I can get behind. Near the headboard, Katrina thrashes her head about, her words becoming more jumbled and incoherent.

One stands out amongst all of them, however…. Chet. I hear the plaintive call as clear as day. I don’t know who Chet is, but I know he must die. The fact that I’m taking my time with her, lavishing her with as much tenderness I can muster, and yet, she calls for some asshole named Chet.

The name sits like ash in my mouth as I bend down to drink from her. I fully expect her flavor to change and brace against the sweet fullness of desire. Instead, the acrid hint of anger bursts against my tongue. Whatever is happening in her head, it’s not pleasure she’s thinking about. It’s anger, almost hatred.

Pricking my index finger, I swipe my blood along the wounds, waiting for them to seal before making my way up to her. Katrina’s eyes are wild, glassy, and unfocused. Fear slams into me as I cradle her head in my hands. Her skin is feverish, much warmer than it should be.

“Katrina. I need you to focus. Katrina.” I hold her head in my hands, letting the coolness leach some of the heat off of her. I don’t know what’s driving this fever. The only time she’s ever left this room was to be pleasured by Jackson or me, and we sure as fuck can’t get sick.

This is the problem with humans. They can just get ill for no fucking reason. Fury slams into me as I undo her restraints and cradle her body next to mine. I could call in the nurse, but then she’d know I gave a damn about this human, and I trust the vampires around me as far as I can throw them.

Unless they were made by me, I can never truly know if they’re on my side or not. Unfortunately, most of the ones I’ve sired have either died or are out in the world, furthering my reach. Now, more than ever, I wish I had kept more of them at home. Hell, even a few of the assholes like Gage or Joseph would do in a pinch. But that’s what happens when you don’t give a fuck who keeps you company.

Even now, I’m cursing the fact that I sent Jackson on his stupid mission. Did I really need him to prove his loyalty that much? Did he really need to have the lesson of killing one’s sire driven home that much? I can’t pull him back because, again, that would tip my hand. He already knows my thoughts, but this would solidify it in his mind.

I could turn her now and keep whatever is happening at bay, but then I couldn’t have her tied to Jackson. Pulling Katrina close, I listen to her heart as I rock back and forth, smoothing my cold hands along her inflamed skin. She moans, turning into me, though I can’t tell if it’s at the pleasure of my touch or the coolness of my skin.

Thoughts tumble about my brain as I hold her close, keeping us skin to skin. The last time fevers were a problem, it was deadly. Pulling back the sheets, I study her body, looking for any sign of a rash. Truthfully, my progeny and I were never affected by the epidemic that swept through Russia, but I saw enough humans succumb to it that I know some of the symptoms.

The problem is, I was never around them enough to know exactly what happened or at which intervals. It’s crazy to think that something so deadly could be here, in my home estate, but weirder things have happened. Shoving her towards the middle of the bed, I walk over to my pants and pull them on before pulling out my phone.

There has to be some answers online. With all the information at my fingertips, I can surely take care of one human. Right? Scrolling, I type in my query, clicking on the first medical site. My blood runs colder than usual, nearly freezing. Could it actually be that she has cancer?

I glance down at her, a frown pulling down my brows. If it were something that bad, wouldn’t I have smelled it on her? Tasted it on her blood? Still…. I scroll some more, looking over the symptoms. Every link from this site takes me to yet another article about cancer.

Eventually, it comes to one about testicular cancer, and I nearly throw my phone, the impotent rage bubbling up inside me. There’s no way she could have testicular cancer. How many fucking forms of cancer are there anyway? Disgusted, I start a new search, focusing just on deadly fevers, but even that is enough to scare any human, let alone an immortal.

Shaking my head, I pull the sheets up to her chin, noting her quivering body as shakes start to overtake her. Once more, I lay my hand across her forehead, a niggle of worry working its way down my spine. I’ve been so out of touch with humans that I’m incapable of even taking care of one.

I rub a hand down my face. She’s even hotter than before. Once I get her tucked in, I throw open the door to her room and grab the guard by the throat, slamming him into the wall.

“You do anything to disturb her. Anything. And I will fuck your insides as I’m pulling them out of you. Do you understand me?”

The nameless guard pales a bit more and nods his head, his eyes widening as I pull away. Fuck every bit of this. Once Jackson is back, I’m going through everyone that works here and ensuring their loyalty to me. I just took it all for granted, but now, I don’t have that luxury. Not until she’s one of us.

Storming down the hall, I pull out my phone and text Jackson, demanding a report. I could look inside his mind, but right now, I’m too concerned with Katrina to allow my brain any sort of deviation. Besides, all I’ll get are his thoughts on the matter. That’s not really the same thing.

I make my way to the nurse's station, my phone pulled up with everything I need to keep Katrina well and be able to monitor her. The main thing they all mentioned was something to cool her down. As luck has it, I’m a walking refrigerator if I want to be.

The station is thankfully empty as I walk around opening various drawers and such. Because she’s our only human down here, we don’t have nearly as many supplies as we should. Most of the list is woefully lacking. Since she will be the last human allowed here, it doesn’t make any sense to stock up now. It won’t help me at the moment.

Though it would be easy to take her upstairs, I don’t want whatever it is infecting all the rest of the humans - that would shut me down for good. Besides, don’t usually keep a doctor on staff. If one is needed, we fly them in.

I grab the thermometer, but there’s no mention of anything even remotely looking like acetaminophen or NSAIDs. In fact, most of the cupboards are empty. A snarl rips through my throat as I grab a bedpan and fling it across the room. What fucking good is a bedpan? To my knowledge, no one here even has that fetish.

As I’m about to leave, I spot an enema set up. Though the research didn’t mention anything about it, I do recall it being a prevalent treatment back when several different epidemics swept through. It would be better to have it and not need it than to need it and have to come back down and leave her alone.

My phone dings, and thankfully Jackson is on his way back. Though it’s only been a few hours, I still thought it would take him longer. A burgeoning glimmer of respect intermingles with my fear. If he’s really this good, then he’ll be great to have around, and not just as a good fuck. I shoot off a quick message ordering him to buy the medicine I need and pocket my phone before he can ask me any of the hundreds of annoying questions in his brain.

My tongue gets thicker in my mouth as I race back, emotion clogging my throat. Luckily, since I don’t need to breathe, I’m not hyperventilating, but I feel dangerously close. If I don’t shut down my emotions, I won’t be any good to her. I know there’s a slim chance whatever is wrong is deadly, but my only memory of fever is the scores of lives it took.

The fact that I actually give a damn about this human, it’s…. It's uncomfortable. Soon after turning, I never gave another thought to human life, and now, here I am, mentally debating the merits of enemas on fevers. How the mighty have fallen and fallen hard.