Page 27 of Forbidden Devotion
Sinclair blinked up at him, grimacing. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Mitchel cupped Sinclair’s cheek in his palm. He was burning up. “If you were a wolf, I’d know what to do. Should I call campus emergency?”
Meekly, Sinclair shook his head. He whispered, voice scratchy, “Move me out of the sun.”
A rush of relief filled his chest. Mitchel could do that. Easy. Sinclair was light as a feather, and Mitchel scooped him into his arms and carried him to the shade of the front porch. “Now what?”
“Give me a minute.” Sinclair’s eyes fluttered closed.
Mitchel looked him over from head to toe. Bleeding from his knees. That couldn’t be good. Did he have broken bones? A concussion?
Oh shit.You weren’t supposed to move trauma victims. You could break their neck. But Sinclair’s neck looked fine.
Carefully, Mitchel sat with Sinclair in his arms, draped over his lap. He stared hopelessly as the bloodstains on his jeans slowly seeped a broader circle. How deep were the abrasions?
“I’ll be okay,” Sinclair said. Music to Mitchel’s ears, but he wasn’t so sure.
“Is anything broken?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Can you move?”
“Not really.” But Sinclair was rolling his neck, flexing his fingers where he had a vise grip locked on Mitchel’s biceps. “Hurts.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.” Sinclair’s palms and elbows were bleeding too. Shit.
Mitchel forced himself to be patient as Sinclair lay still, collecting himself. At least he was breathing. His heart was steady. Mitchel could wait. He told himself to stay calm.
Sinclair took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault. I should have sent you down earlier.”
“No, I knew what was happening.” Sinclair’s face had gone sheet white. Vanished was the pretty flush. “I thought we’d finish in time.”
“What do you meanin time?”
“Too much sun.” Sinclair held his body perfectly still, only his lips moving.
“But—” Mitchel knew turned vampires would burn to ash in the sunlight, but Sinclair was living. “I thought the sun couldn’t hurt you until…”
“It won’t kill me. I can tolerate the sun in small doses, but I’ve never been exposed for as long as I was today. I thought if I covered up, it would be okay. I was wrong.”
“Oh.” So that was why Sinclair had come dressed the way he had. It made sense now.
“See? Not your fault,” Sinclair said, eyes still closed, body still motionless.
“What should I do?”
He opened his eyes. Brown and lovely. “You’re not going to like this.”
“What?”
“I need blood.”
“Um, okay. I can do that. Give me an hour. I’ll bring back a deer.” Mitchel started to get up, eager to be useful, but Sinclair stopped him with a hand squeezed hard around his arm.
