Page 41 of Tested
I tap, politely, hoping Connor will stick his head out and tell us what’s going on. Sheena literally counts to fifteen, then reaches over my head and gives the door a solid swat.
Still nothing.
She elbows me out of the way, making me growl. The look she gives me says plainly that I better come at her with some four-legged fur action or back the hell down. I yield, sick to my stomach that I couldn’t shift now if I wanted to.
Trajan has to live, or whatever it is vampires do. He has to.
Sheena goes from smacking the door to hammering to slumping against the wall, sending a series of texts to someone, probably Connor. Whoever the recipient is, I can almost see the flames coming from her phone.
Just open the damn door.
I go from counting heartbeats to black speckles in the tile floor to how many ways I want to get fucked before I die. The door cracks open and I just about jump out of my skin. Sheena grabs it and tries to wrestle it the rest of the way open, but Connor holds firm. “He’s going to be okay,” he murmurs.
“Let. Me. In.” Sheena’s hiss has more threat than I’d care to face, but Connor doesn’t back down.
“Chill out, will you? The doctor’s still working with him. As soon as she says it’s okay, I’ll let you in.”
“What doctor?” Sheena’s slightly calmer, but not much. “Where did you dig someone up at this hour?”
“He called someone,” I say, easing myself past her elbow so I can get to Connor. “If Trajan survives, it’s thanks to him.”
Sheena backs up a step and glares at us, her arms crossed. She doesn’t say anything, but then she doesn’t need to. I reach for Connor’s wrist and give it a squeeze. “Thank you,” I murmur, then step aside as he eases the door closed.
“That doctor must be someone from the Securitas.”
I shrug becauseYesbut alsoLet’s not go there. “He didn’t say.”
“Hmph.”
The silence between us is only broken by the steady tap of her heel on the floor. She’s wearing sleek black platform boots, and under other circumstances I would have coveted the hell out of them. As it was, I put them on the maybe list for whenever I shop for something more fun than groceries.
Finally – Lord have mercyfinally– the door opens all the way. Connor’s alone, and he steps aside so both of us can come in. The doctor’s gone. Where? How? I don’t even know. All I can see is Trajan, still fairly alabaster white, but sitting upright on the couch.
“He’s going to need to feed,” Connor murmurs, low enough that I’m the only one who hears. Sheena keeps going until she’s sitting next to Trajan on the couch with her arms around him, hanging on like she’s never ever going to let go.
“I can do that.”
“I mean,” he grabs my arm, “a lot.”
We share a glance. “Like more than you and me together?”
His expression is grim. “Yeah, unless one of us wants a trip to the ER with hypovolemia.”
Hy-po-vo-what…?“Okay, so what do we do?”
“We need to find a fourth, and maybe a fifth, and we need them fairly soon.”
I glance at Sheena. “Maybe somebody from the club?”
“That’s what I was thinking, to be honest.” Connor plants his fists on his hips and arches his back. “We’ll let her calm down, then come up with a plan. We don’t need to make a whole scene out of it. If she just finds us a couple volunteers, we can take care of things.”
I’m not at all sure whattaking care of thingsmeans, but I nod in a close approximation of maturity.
And then, because I’m fucking twenty-three years old, my dick gets hard.
