Page 7 of Hunting for Redemption

CHAPTER THREE

AXEL

I leanagainst the door frame. Watching someone sleep is probably creepy, right? Yet I can’t seem to pull myself away.

The moment he’d fallen into my arms, I was lost. His smell invaded my nose, further cementing what I already knew to be true; this man is my mate. He’s the other piece of my soul. He’s here, in my home, and instead of this moment being one of joy and celebration, it’s one of horror. My mate is in pain I can’t even imagine.

All I wanna do is go to him and hold him close. But I can’t. Not yet anyway.

Right now I just have to be here for him however he needs. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else. I’ll make sure he’s fed.

Gods, how do I tell a newly made vampire that not only is his life turned completely upside down but also that he has a true mate? That’s way too much for him to handle all at once.

I have to put my own wants aside and make sure he’s okay, that’s my main priority right now. Of course I want to take care of him. If he was just some random guy who’d been turned, I would still be here, doing the same thing. But fuck, I’d be lying if I said I’m not fucking compelled to help this one even more.

He’s my mate.

He’s my mate.

What a fucking trip. I’ve been an adult vampire for a couple decades now and I never dreamed of finding my mate like this. In my head it would be some sort of meet cute. We’d bump into each other at a coffee shop. Or maybe he’d come into the hospital to donate blood. Or maybe he’d be a shifter I met out on a run. But this? The idea of helping my mate through his transformation as the catalyst for our meeting?

Fuck me running. What a way to bring us together, Lady Fate.

I straighten, noticing the man in my bed beginning to stir. I stay completely still, not wanting to scare him. Everything must be so heightened and overwhelming, I’d hate to accidentally add to that.

“Fuck,” comes from the mound of blankets before a head is popping up, hazel eyes meeting mine. I give a soft smile, raising my hand at him. In response, he lets out a long groan, flopping back against the pillows. I can’t help but chuckle.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fucking awful,” he groans out, his voice less scratchy than it was the first time he woke up. That’s an improvement. “I’m so thirsty. But the idea of drinking blood from a bag again makes my stomach turn.”

“That’s okay, I can take care of that.” I turn to walk out of the room but his voice calls out to me, making me pause.

“Wait,” he murmurs, his eyes just barely peeking out from beneath the blankets. “What’s your name?”

“Axel.”

“I’m uh, you can call me Jeff.”

Jeff. My mate’s name is Jeff. “It’s nice to properly meet you.”

There’s a long pause where he just watches me before he’s ducking back under the covers. “You too,” he murmurs and I find that to be my cue to step away.

I can’t help but smile as I get to work preparing Jeff’s next ‘meal’. I don’t blame him for hating the blood bag. There’s something animalistic that takes over when first turned. I’ve seen my fair share of baby vampires. Some of them tear into bag after bag after bag, their self-control completely gone whenever blood is around. And then there are some like Jeff, who take everything as a challenge of discipline. I wish it didn’t have to be like that but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.

No, it’s not bias because he’s my mate. Not at all.

Hopefully Jeff has a bit of a sweet tooth. I’ve found this little drink has helped baby vampires at first. I make myself a mug, pouring the majority of it into one of my thermoses, that way it has a top to it so Jeff doesn’t have to see the blood he’s drinking.

“Jeff?” I murmur, stepping into my bedroom once more. Instead of finding my mate tucked under the blankets, he’s now sitting up. The blankets are pooled around his waist, leaving his upper body exposed. Sure, he’s wearing a tee shirt but still, my stomach flutters at seeing him like this.

If only his shirt wasn’t ruined from all that blood.

Jeff looks up, his eyes darting to the mug in my hand. He makes a soft, questioning noise as I step into the room, coming to sit beside his hip on the bed. I hand him the thermos.

“I hope you have a tiny bit of a sweet tooth,” I say gently, sipping at my own drink and making a happy noise. “This is one of my favorites.”

“What’s with the thermos?”

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