Page 47 of A Vow for the Vamp
What the hell did he use to impale my mate?
My mate.
It’s the first time I’ve truly let myself believe this human is meant to be with me.
It takes about ten minutes to arrive at SPN Emergency Services. It’s discreet and disguised as a bodega to humans, but the medical clinic is in the back and spans three floors.
I had called ahead and told them to be ready.
“What do we got?” a wolf shifter asks upon meeting us at the door with a stretcher.
My griffin guards set him on top and the doctor gets to work.
“Stabbed by a vampire. He’s lost a lot of blood tonight, because, um…”
The shifter holds up his wrist, then points at his neck. “Because you drank from him?”
“Iclaimedhim at The 27 Club.”
She raises a brown brow at me. “Twice?”
I shrug. “Wanted to be thorough.”
She checks his pulse while a nurse hooks him up to an IV.
“It’s weak. We need to get blood in him.” She sniffs him, and her brown eyes glow yellow. “He smells different. Is that why you’re drawn to him?”
“Or maybe I think he’s hot and charming.”
She snorts at my lie. It’s notreallya lie. Teddyischarming,andhe’s a beautiful man. He makes me laugh, feel appreciated, wanted. And while his blood is special, and he’s likely my mate, I felt connected to him the moment I accidentally slammed a door in his face.
“What’s his blood type?”
“AB.”
“Negative?”
I nod.
“Interesting.” She nods at the nurse who runs off to get a blood bag.
AB negative is a rare blood type. The moment I tasted him, I identified it. However, his blood type has nothing to do with why all the supes went crazy for him tonight. I mean, it didn’t help having blood that isn’t common. It’s like a special treat for vamps.
If he’s my blood mate, his blood would reflect that. I just don’t know why or how, but it’s the only explanation as to why everyone keeps saying he smells different.
There’s just so much I don’t know about this… bond?Destiny?Fate.
The nurse returns and hooks up a bag of O negative and they wheel him back into a room. I follow, taking Teddy’s hand in mine.
Before the doctor can get to work on his wound, Teddy begins seizing. His body flails on the stretcher.
“He’s rejecting the blood,” the shifter yells, removing the line from his arm. She curses, palming her forehead. She looks at me, then back at him before returning her eyes to me. “Give him your blood.”
“What? Why? You know it won’t help—”
“I have a hunch.” She doesn’t let me question the request any longer and takes my arm to wipe it with an alcohol cloth. She finds a vein, stabs me with a needle, and connects the other end of the tube to Teddy’s IV.
Within seconds of my blood entering his body, he stops seizing.
