Page 72 of Never Say Die
“Would sleep help?”
“Maybe. Might put off the inevitable.”
Aiden swallowed thickly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go back with you.”
“I can make it through the tour. The last thing we need is Georgia freaking out about a summer flu.”
Around the corner, the guide talked enthusiastically about Marie Laveau’s magical reputation in New Orleans and directed the group to Nicholas Cage’s pyramid-shaped tomb.
Aiden took Shay’s hand, hovering near the back of the crowd, and hoped claws didn’t pierce his palm.
Aiden leaned against the wall next to the window and watched sunlight bend across the bed in their hotel suite. Nerves fluttered under the almost healed bitemark on his thigh. He picked at his nailbeds. Gnawed hard on his lip. Remembered and wondered and shyly, secretly hoped. “Can you sustain yourself on blood alone?”
“Aiden,” Shay said, and it meantdo not.
“Look, you did it once. You fed on me at the party and it worked. Your eyes went back to normal, you didn’t get sick, you?—”
“Fed on you,” Shay said, softly, painfully. He braced on his palms, sprawled on the bed, staring at Aiden from across the room. “That situation was circumstantial.”
“The being high part or the sex part?”
Shay’s cheeks darkened. “Option C for both, please. Jesus, Aiden. Yes, obviously because our inhibitions had suddenly disappeared, and because. . .” He paused to huff. “Because we made it something dangerous.”
“Okay, well, we need to pick our danger, because you either bite me or you bite someone else, and I’d rather deal with a sore spot than another corpse.”
“That night in the parking garage, I almost killed you,” Shay snapped. He knitted his brows and his chin dimpled, lips parting for a shaky breath. “I didn’t know if Ihadkilled you until I got back to the Cosmo and found you asleep. I just… I sat there and listened to you breathe for hours. I still hear it—I still hear you begging me to let you go?—”
“Yeah, I still hear you, too,” he said, cutting Shay off before his voice gave out. He’d seen Shay cry before, but not in a long time, and never over him. “Right now, our other option is finding a drunk tourist for you to eat. So, pick. Bite me or go hunting. I’ll find you someone—I have no problem doing that. But this hotel is crawling with cops and the clean-up will be way fucking worse.”
“Youshouldhave a problem with it.”
“But I don’t.”
Shay clenched his jaw, shifting his eyes to the ceiling. His complexion had started to sallow, eyes sunken, lips pale, knuckles ashy.
“Where?” Shay asked, hardly above a whisper.
“Where, what?”
“Where do you want me to bite you?”
Aiden flushed, absently touching the band-aid on his throat. “If you bite low enough, I can hide a mark on my neck with my sister’s rosary. Thigh might be riskier.”
“Riskier?”
“If you clip my femoral artery, I die in, like, eight minutes,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I did some research after the party.”
“Oh, awesome. Good to know I’ve almost killed you twice.”
“Better than actually killing me once.”
Shay sighed.
“We’re sober, you’re not completely feral in a parking garage, and I trust you, all right? A bandage is a lot easier to deal with than a body.” Aiden pushed away from the wall and curled his hand around Shay’s jaw, forcing his gaze. “Let me do this. Please.”
Shay scooted backward and braced his back against the headboard. He patted the space between his legs. “Come here.”
Aiden did as he was told. He unwrapped the rosary from around his neck, unclipped his black choker, and crawled onto the bed, resting his back against Shay’s chest. He stayed steady, shifting pliantly as Shay adjusted him. Brought him closer. Angled his chin upward, baring the smooth, unmarred column of his throat.
