Page 88 of Even Vampires Bleed
I keep walking until I reach the edge of the forest and that’s when I hear it.
The grunts and the clangs.
I follow the sound and arrive in another clearing.
Léandre is there, bare chested, his hair tied at the back of his head and sweat dripping down his torso as he cuts wood.
I’m mesmerized by the sight and my eyes are stuck on the way his muscles bunch each time he brings the ax down onto the piece of wood.
If I don’t stop myself, I’m going to end up drooling.
I have no idea how long passes until Léandre realizes that I’m here, but by that time, I’m sitting on the ground against a tree and thinking about licking the sweat that has been dripping on his abs.
I know I’m bad. I said less than an hour ago that I needed to stay away from him.
I’m obviously bad at following my own advice.
Or maybe the blood loss is talking for me. Well, acting for me.
“Finally awake?” Léandre asks, and I know he isn’t really expecting an answer since I’m here, sitting in the forest.
“Do we need all that wood?” I ask instead.
“Not yet,” Léandre says, “but we might when it gets cold.”
It’s the middle of the summer, so I don’t see that happening anytime soon.
How long does he think we’re going to stay here?
“It’s the only thing that kills my morning wood, anyway,” I hear him mutter under his breath.
He said it very quietly. I don’t think he meant for me to hear that.
So, he either forgot he was spending time with a bat, or I’m more attuned to what he says because of the blood I took from him.
I hope it’s not the latter because if it’s that option, it means I took too much already.
Wait.
He said it like it happened multiple times.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask.
I know that I must have paled, because Léandre looks at me with concern in his eyes before dropping the proverbial bomb.
“Three days.”
“What?”
I scramble to get up in something akin to panic.
Why did I sleep for so long? I pat myself to check if everything is alright even if I already know it’s the case.
I wouldn’t be here, standing in the forest if it wasn’t the case.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, crestfallen. “I was supposed to come so you wouldn’t be alone and in the end you had to save me, basically from myself. You had to heal me. You let me drink from you, and you took care of me, and then you had to take care of the house on your own. I feel like I’m a dead weight. I knew I shouldn’t have come.”
I say the last sentence quietly even if I know he’ll probably hear it, anyway.
