Page 38 of Hunters and Hydrangeas

What am I going to do? It’s not like we can run to the nearest coffee shop and pick up a tall order of cow blood, no whip.

Crap.

I sit up and cross the room, careful when I pull back the drapes to ensure no direct sunlight is shining right at me.

Luckily, the sun is high in the sky.

Just like last night, the view of the ocean makes me forget my current panic. Today, it’s aqua blue, and the sand is lightly golden. There are people everywhere, and I faintly hear music coming from the hotel’s patio.

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms it’s almost noon—not exactly early morning.

I stand here a little longer, watching the water. Once the novelty of the beach view wears off, I throw my suitcase onto the bed and rummage around for my blood. I find it in its insulated bag, surrounded by limp ice packs.

It’s warm, just as I knew it would be.

The shower water stops, and I walk to the bathroom and call through the door, “How long does it take prescription blood to go bad?”

A few seconds later, Noah sticks his head out the door. “We forgot to put it into the mini fridge last night.”

“Yeah,” I answer, distracted.

Noah’s wearing one of the fluffy white hotel towels, maybe the one that used to be a bird. His torso is bare. His hair is wet.

“I don’t even see a mini fridge,” I say absently.

“Call Dr. Martin.” He opens the door a little more, focused on the situation. “See if he can send your prescription to one of the local pharmacies.”

“What about you?” I watch a rogue water droplet drip from his hair and trail down his neck. My eyes snag on his pulse point, and my mouth begins to water.

Noah turns toward the mirror and runs a comb through his short, wet hair. “I’m sure the local NIHA office will have some kind of blood in stock. I’ll just grab some there.”

Right. He has to work.

“Even if I can get a prescription, how will I pick it up?” I ask.

“Call Cassian,” Noah suggests.

“Okay.”

Deciding I need to be a good vampire, I stop ogling my boyfriend’s throat and wander into the main room.

Thankfully, Cassian answers on the first ring.

“Did you and Noah finally decide to crawl out of bed?” he asks. “Every time I tried to send a text, it informed me your phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’”

“It was a long evening,” I say. “There was a mix-up with the rooms, and—never mind. That’s not why I called. I accidentally left my blood out all night.”

“What did I tell you?”

I roll my eyes. “If I can get Dr. Martin to call in a prescription from halfway across the country, do you think you could pick it up for me?”

“I’m starting to feel like a blood delivery boy. You don’t even tip well.”

“Fine, I’ll just eat a tourist.”

Cassian chuckles. “The things I do for you. Talk to your doctor and tell him to call me with the details. I’m at your service.”

I thank him and then hang up, closing my eyes as I try to stave off the gnawing feeling. But it’s not going anywhere. Giving up, I call my new doctor’s office.

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