Page 5

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, never seen such a big rabbit,” I say, only half lying.

“No signs of concussion and good motor skills. She’s got a cut on her forearm, no stitches. Just needs to be cleaned out. I’ll take the backboard and C-collar back to the rig and fill out the paperwork. You got the cut?”

“Good to go,” I say, reaching into my pocket and grabbing the jar of menthol I always carry on duty. I dab a small amount right under my nose and move to take his place.

“Hi, Ms. Holland. My name is Augustus,” I say, crouching in front of her. Up close, her eyes are even more captivating, stormy blue seas with endless depths. She gnaws on her lower lip, indicating her nerves.

I try to speak in a soothing tone. “My partner says you’ve got a cut on your arm that needs cleaning. Can I take a look at it?”

She hesitates a moment, then shifts the rabbit to her side. She extends her right arm, pulling the sleeve up to reveal a long cut. The cut isn’t deep, but a single line of blood flows down the side to drip onto her lap.

I zero in on that singular droplet. My senses go into hyperdrive.

My mouth waters.

My pulse stutters.

An ache blossoms along my gums.

As I watch another droplet forming. A sharp prick on my lips jars me.

My fangs. Oh fuck my fangs have dropped. I’m fanging out.

I snap my eyes back to Cordelya’s confused face as I slap my hand over my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, jumping up and backing away, nearly falling on my ass in my rush. “I’m so sorry. I’ll, I’ll send Eric back.”

Then I practically sprint back to the rig.

Eric must have heard me approaching and registered my distress.

“Augustus, what’s wrong?” He asks, concerned.

All I can do is shake my head, hand still over my mouth. “You need to clean her cut. I- I can’t,” I say, reaching forward to snag the clipboard of paperwork from him.

Before he can argue, I rush around to the passenger side and jump in the rig, heart racing. My fingers lightly trace my extended fangs. I’ve never had a reaction to blood like this before. And certainly never in front of a patient.

What in the ever-loving fuck just happened?

Chapter 3

Runaway

CORDELYA

What in the Count Dracula just happened?

One minute the paramedic with the gentle voice and piercing red eyes was asking to see my injured arm. The next, he was slapping a hand over his mouth to cover his fangs and bolting like I’d doused him with holy water.

I mean, if that’s even true.

The first paramedic, whose name I honestly didn’t catch in my worry over my animals, comes back looking rather bewildered.

“Uh, hi, Ms. Holland. Sorry about that. My colleague, um, he needed to excuse himself. Something in the air. May I see your arm?” he asks. His tone makes it clear he’s not buying the excuse he’s selling.

I should know; I’m an expert in tone.

The shudder rips through me before I can stop it.