Page 190 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“Minnie…” he groans in pain as his skin makes contact with the hot water.

Discarding my own tattered clothing, I join him inside, modesty be damned.

Manifesting a soft sponge and some iodine from Anthropa, I start slowly cleaning his wounds.

“It will be all right. I’ll take care of you,” I whisper, pressing the sponge against his ravaged cheek.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he pushes against the pain.

I wish my words would turn into reality, but the more blood I wipe from his skin, more pools to the surface. His wounds are angry and nothing seems to appease them.

Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around his neck and drag my tongue against his cheek, hoping that my saliva would help. His blood flows into my mouth, harsh and metallic but surprisingly addictive.

A shudder goes down his body, and slowly, but certainly, his arms come to rest against my midriff, holding me close.

That gives me hope that his strength is slowly returning. Yet as I pull back to regard him, I note that nothing has improved.

My lips flatten into a tight line. Perhaps it’s because my energy is so low that my saliva is not working as before. But there is one thing that is more potent and that is…

I still at my train of thought.

As an Aperite, blood exchanges are strictly forbidden for us—it’s one of the things that sets us apart from the dangerously reckless demons. But even though I am low on energy, my body still possesses remarkable healing abilities far beyond those of humans. Perhaps I can use this to help ease his suffering.

Swallowing hard, I know that what I am about to do could potentially lead to my downfall if anyone were to find out…but the sight of his pain-ridden face pushes all hesitation aside.

His eyes slowly flutter open, filled with so much agony that my own heart constricts in sympathy. His mouth curves up slightly in a futile attempt to comfort me, despite being the one in excruciating agony. And in that moment, I make up my mind.

The chance to alleviate Mine’s suffering is worth any potential consequences that may come my way.

“Mine,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Look at me.”

With great effort, he focuses on me through his hazy pain-induced daze.

Gently retrieving my blade, I press its sharp tip against my sternum.

His eyes widen in shock.

“Minnie—”

Without hesitation, I slice into my skin and allow the blood to flow freely.

Guiding his head forward, I thread my fingers through his hair and I urge him to drink from the wound.

He hesitates for a split second, his nostrils flaring as he takes in my scent.

“Drink,” I command softly, determination evident in my tone.

“You know what this means,” he rasps out hoarsely.

“None of that matters,” I counter firmly, “as long as you get better. Drink.”

This time, he needs no further persuasion as his lips eagerly latch onto the wound, his tongue lapping up the droplets of blood. My body arches instinctively and I encourage him to take as much as he needs, willing to give everything to ease his suffering.

His hot breath against my skin causes me to break out in goose bumps. The feel of his tongue as he laps up my blood makes my body hum with unreleased tension. I recognize how wrong it is for me to feel like this when he’s suffering, but I never realized that sharing blood would be so erotic, so fulfilling.

My breath catches in my throat. He lets out a low moan before he wrenches himself away from me. His lips are red and smeared with blood. His eyes swirl a deep green as he stares at me intently.

The gashes on his body slowly stop bleeding, but they don’t heal. They close up, still red and angry, turning into harsh scars.

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