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The commander squatted next to him and Jude spoke in a low tone, thanking him for his crew’s quick response and for taking care of the wraith-pair.
Within the next few minutes, the troll unit left by way of the front door. Hannah followed after them, asking the lead troll what precautions would be taken to protect Port Townsend from another attack. The commander assured her that he would have his ship patrolling the stretch of water that linked Port Townsend with the Kellcasse access point throughout the day.
“We’ll keep in contact with the Kellcasse Communication Center at all times, but you’re not to worry about any of this. We’ll keep tabs on the realm-folk who travel today to Port Townsend.”
She thanked him for everything. And after taking one last look at the stretchers now hauling away the dead Invictus pair, she locked the front door and returned back to the bunkroom.
Pulling up a low stool, she joined Jude at his bedside. He lay very still, eyes closed.
She remained quiet, waiting. Every once in a while, she’d glance at his abdomen, fascinated to watch the skin knitting together so swiftly. He radiated heat from the energy he spent healing himself, but despite his efforts it seemed to her that he grew paler by the second.
Eventually, his abdomen filled in completely without even a scar remaining to show that he’d been wounded in battle.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief, then sat up, his head easily clearing the bottom of the upper bunk. When Hannah had decided on bunks to save space, she’d had them specially made to accommodate the average size of the Vampire Guard.
He shifted h
is legs over the side of the bed. Breathing heavily, he leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. She could see he was still suffering.
“Do you want me to help you get this shirt off?”
He glanced at her, but his eyes were pinched and bloodshot. “Yes, I’d really like that. The smell—”
“I know.”
She moved close, bending over him and lifting his arms carefully to remove the tattered, woven shirt. She threw it in the dust bin.
She’d finally gotten her wish and was now looking at Jude without a shirt on, but she was too troubled to really enjoy the view. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t doing better.
Healing had definitely used up his resources, but he shouldn’t be so pale.
Then she remembered that even if his wounds had disappeared, he still suffered from the chronic pain and cramping from the blood-starvation that all mastyrs endured. From what she understood from the women on the loop, if the mastyrs went too long between feedings they could die.
She swallowed hard. She’d never fed a vampire and it was one of her rules that she never would.
She tried a different tack. “What can I do, Jude? Would you like a sandwich or something? I’m sure I can dig around in the kitchen. Would that help?”
He opened his eyes and met her gaze, his nostrils flaring. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Maybe a beer.”
She frowned. Was she really going to have to donate? “I could use one myself. I’ll be right back.” Could beer hold him off? Of course, she could always call one of her friends who frequently donated to Guardsmen, but again, her fingers started curling up into ugly little balls.
The bar had a number of brews on tap, but she thought a couple of chilled bottles from the fridge would answer better. She went into the storeroom where a few cases were kept in a large refrigerated unit. She pulled out two Tamerland Brown Porters, popped the tops, and headed back to Jude.
His eyes were still closed. And as she dropped down beside him and put a beer in his hand, she’d never seen his skin look so white.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Have to keep my eyes closed for a few more minutes.”
She swore she could feel his pain, that though his abdomen was perfectly healed, his stomach was cramping hard.
She looked away from him. She knew what needed to be done and she also knew he’d never ask. But she had the worst feeling that if she gave it up for him, she’d be opening a door that she could never close again.
On the other hand, Jude had just saved her life and had taken a painful hit in the process.
Sitting back down on the stool, she took a long swig of the beer. “Jude, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
A smiled flickered at the side of his mouth. “Me, too.” He tipped the bottle and drank several swallows in a row. “Love this porter.”
When he gritted his teeth for about the tenth time, clearly struggling through more hard cramping despite the beer, she resigned herself to what needed to be done.
