The Vampire Always Bites Twice | Wattys 2022 Grand Prize Winner

47

This chapter contains very mature sexual content... and a lot of it.

Nurse Isla, Gives Good Bloodjobs

"Phoebe!" I burst into Greg's darkened office and screamed, throwing the keys I'd dug out of his pocket down the hall. "Phoebe, I need help!"

Greg moaned as I dragged him across the threshold. He couldn't walk on his own. Couldn't even stand. Boy did his best to help himself, even as he faded in out of consciousness against me, but my arms and back ached from having to haul his skinny ass the measly three blocks to his place (thank every ghoul in the Netherworld he lived so close). But I couldn't hold him any longer.

We collapsed face first together onto the floor. I kicked the door shut. My ruined pink Jimmy Choos thunked to the ground. My feet were cold and numb. Definitely popped a few blisters in our trek.

Which was, like, fucking nothing compared to what Greg had gone through.

"Hang in there, Greggy," I rasped. My eyes were wet. Snot bubbled out my nose. Did my best to ignore all that. I wasn't the one who was really hurt. "Please, please hang in there."

Phoebe materialized in the center of the room. A microsecond later, she screamed, leaping back in surprise. The lamp of Greg's desk trembled. After too long of a moment of hitting those high notes, her pretty face contorted in a mix of recognition and horror.

"Don't you two know how to use a safe word?"

"We were attacked!" I rolled Greg on to his back, swallowing my gag reflex. "Werewolves. He's not healing."

He wasn't. Fucking Kyle. The damage that ugly bastard'd done to Greg was grotesque and cruel. Poor vamp's clothes were tattered and bloody, practically hanging off him (real shame about that jacket), and his fingers were literally hanging off him. Despite the injuries, I didn't think it was his blood we were drenched in. It was too bright and red. It seeped onto me, staining my dress.

Greg's own blood was a mere trickle. Little spits, dark and thick, leaked from his mouth and the gash above his eyebrow. A dusting of it brushed his lip and twisted nostrils; his nose had been broken in at least two places. Scarring his throat was a ropey cord of burned skin and muscle where the silver chain had bit him. It was gruesome but dry, although a small smear of blood ran down the back of his neck too, stemming from the newly crushed bit of his skull just behind his right ear. The small crater was partially hidden in the tangled, tacky mess of his hair, but my hand slipped right into it as I attempted to rest his head against the sofa.

My fingers came away black, strands hair stuck under my nails.

He groaned again. I wasn't sure if he could speak. Wasn't sure if he was even conscious. His one eye fluttered open sporadically, a dull, sickly grayish blue peering out from behind a torn lid. The other was swollen shut. And I knew Greg didn't need to breathe but it was scary as all unicorn shit to feel that he just wasn't. Not a puff.

Kyle had really gone to town on Greg's abdomen too. I saw it. As we limped home, Greg croaked and cradled an arm around his stomach several times. Probably had some broken ribs under there. Maybe a punctured lung? Did a punctured lung even matter to vampire? Could he even have internal bleeding?

If he was human, Greg would've died a hundred times over in that alley. And it was all my fault.

Tits on a stick.

"He hasn't had a drink in at least a week. He's too dry!" Phoebe yelled at me.

"No shit!"

Phoebe kneeled. She reached out a hand to cup Greg's cheek, but it phased straight through him. He shivered. She grimaced. "Oh, this is bad. This is real bad."