Purgatorial

Cam's POV

I was sitting across Phillip's bed—the bed I'd put him on. Waiting. Just... waiting. My senses were hyped, listening for his heart's kick-start. I knew a Vampire's heart frequency was softer than a human's, but there was nothing. Nothing but silence and the nauseating smell of dried blood on his neck, arms and clothes.

I dug my fingers into my scalp, a rush of helplessness running wild inside me. Letting out a shuddering breath, I lifted my eyes to look at him. At my... God, at my brother's unmoving body. There was no trace of our golden complexion, paleness had conquered every inch of skin, and the veins on his hands, arms, neck and face were standing out—vividly.

He didn't look like my twin. He looked like... He...

My throat tightened. I scrunched my eyes, bashing my palms against my temples. I couldn't shake a burning in my lungs. I let out a hollow growl, frustrated, then it turned into something worse—I couldn't catch my breath.

Hotness pricked my eyes.

Everything I'd done—everything since we'd been kids—I'd done to keep him safe. That was my job—my actual fucking job! To keep him safe. Keep my brother safe. Alive. My brother... My little brother...

I gripped my hair trying to pull it together. It was just... impossible. Because I'd failed, I'd failed my brother. My family. My flesh and blood—my twin. I'd failed him... again. Just like I'd failed him when I'd killed our father.

For over two hours I'd been expecting anger to bubble up, enough to make me short circuit an entire block or to jump start a big-ass storm. I just felt boneless and completely disoriented, too much to even feel anything besides a throbbing ache in my chest. So, I sat there, silently willing my brother's chest to jerk with life, hoping Nina's theory proved true. Even if he did wake up, he'd be in transition—to become a Vampire.

It would be better than staying dead, wouldn't it? Or was I being selfish?

Just when I decided to blink away unshed tears, I caught something moving on Phillip's neck. Eyes snapping to complete and total attention, I saw skin pulling itself together. Slower than usual for us, but definitely faster than Nina's acquired healing.

Thanks to Raphael's many lectures on Vampires I knew what was happening. The virus inside him was alive. It was healing his injuries so he could wake up, that's how transition began. Second thing to come in would be fangs and if he didn't feed on blood for the next twenty-four hours, the virus wouldn't have any sustenance to survive and would be washed from his system, leaving him dead. That was why Vampires needed to feed on blood, to keep the virus kicking so it would give them a healing factor.

I dropped my arms, resting my elbows on my knees. I couldn't believe it was working. Hell, why wouldn't it? The Vampires made damn sure to drain most of his blood and the blood loss afterward did the rest. In the end, my brother hadn't been left with any Angelic blood—he'd been human. Just like Nina guessed.

The virus was working its magic on his cells and body.

I leaned into the chair, glancing at the ceiling. His heart wasn't beating yet, but soon, something whispered. Soon it would re-start and Phillip would be undead. Wish I could say the weight on my chest disappeared because there was a chance for him to live, but it didn't feel any better. If I hadn't let Phillip make the stupid choice to stay with Serena, if I'd forced him to come with Nina and me through the Godamned Portal...

I sighed, knowing it wouldn't have done any good. If our roles had been reversed, I would've found a way back to Nina—he would've found a way back to Serena.

There was another reason why I was afraid... Once my brother woke up he'd have a choice to make, I couldn't force blood down his mouth if he decided he didn't want to live as a Vampire. He could choose to die.

"Jesus," I pinched my nose cane, numbing the whirlwind of crap thoughts running around my brain. With Phill's track record of playing sacrificial lamb, he could choose to die if he thought being a Vampire would put people he loved at risk.

The door squeaked.

It was only a tiny crack, but enough for me to see Nina pressed against the frame. Despite this lousy moment, seeing her tugged my lips into a softer line—not an actual smile—but, I felt like my face wouldn't be frozen into a giant frown forever.

"Can I come—"

"You already know the answer to that." I said, feeling lighter for making her smile. Even if it was gone in a flash. Nina came in, closing the door, ambulating to me. Pretty much keeping her eyes and distance from the bed. "You were right, he's... healing. The virus is doing it, so he'll wake up and..."

I got quiet as another wave of exhaustion tore through me. I was hungry. I felt like I hadn't slept in weeks. I sighed, having trouble keeping focus. At least I'd managed to knock Uriel out, long enough to trap her in the Cube. Sucked to be that bitch.

Nina ran a hand through my hair, I leaned into the touch and she pulled my head towards her, against her stomach. Her weaving fingers made me want to cage her in my arms, hold on for however long I lived and even after I lost all strength to do so. But this wasn't about me, not now. It was about Phillip.

"That's great," she whispered, sounding as tuckered out as I felt. I couldn't believe what she'd managed to pull off on her own. She was insane. Which, made her the perfect girl for me. "He'll be okay. V's a Vampire and she hasn't killed anyone! I mean, Phillip taught her how to be one—so..."

I looped an arm around her waist, nuzzling against her side. Nina's petite hand slid over my shoulder, stilling on my nape.

"Are you going to be okay?" I didn't look up. Even if I had, my eyes would've been closed. Nina's worry dripped into my very core. It was mesmerizing to have someone care so much for you. Especially when I could be a first rate jackass. "I'm not asking you to talk about what happened inside that thing—but, it's just... I need to know if you..."

Just like the sun gave Super-man powers, Nina's presence worked some super-mojo on me, steadying and strengthening me. I was up, towering over her, framing her tear-stained face. I'd heard her cry downstairs earlier. Didn't take a rocket scientist to know why. Serena had joined the sob fest, too. Maybe she didn't hate Phillip for what he'd put her through, maybe she understood it hadn't been his fault.

I tilted my head down. Her eyes were brighter than usual, shiny clusters of hundreds of stars burning through pain, suffering and worry.

"I'm a survivor. I've been to Hell and back, I've lived through a deadly ritual, survived a Cambion bite and so much more—and I got through those things because of you. Because of Phillip. In the Cube it… it was pretty bad. I won't lie, little bird, that hex made me live some stuff—things I'd only seen in my nightmares. But I survived." Nina's fingers gripped my wrists afraid I'd let her go. My thumb chased a dry trail along her left cheek.

I wanted to kiss her badly, but if I did, I wouldn't want to stop. I needed to focus on my brother. It was killing me inside, because I could feel Nina needed me and I could tell she was giving me space so the choice wouldn't be so hard. That's why she nodded, squeezing my hands, pulling away towards the door. Right before her fingers slipped away and she walked out, I gripped them, giving a soft tug. Her head whipped my way. My senses were so heightened I could hear her heaving breath like it was inside my head.

"I love you." Her puffy eyes perked and they shone more—if it was possible—but this time with flickering happiness. I knew she read the unspoken 'thank you'.

She licked her lips softly, gazing straight into my eyes without missing a beat.

"I love you, too."

Then she walked out, taking with her my short-lived pain relief. Agony was back on my chest, pressing down like a giant boulder because of the choice my brother would have to make. Because I'd have to respect whatever his wishes. Could I be that selfless? Let him choose: life or death? I slumped back into the arm chair I'd carried up here from the living room, groaning.

Eternity was a long time to hate someone. Would Phillip hate me forever if I took the choice away from him? I scrubbed at my scalp viciously trying to wipe my mind clean of the idea. It was a bad, bad idea. This coming from the genius of bad ideas.

I'd never seen someone waking up a Vampire. When it happened to Vanessa I'd been long gone, leaving Phillip to deal with repercussions I couldn't. Phillip never went into detail about what happened when she took her first breath as an un-dead human, not like I'd wanted him to. But something he'd said—he thought I'd been ignoring him, but even when I pretended to shut him out I listened—stuck with me. He'd said when V woke up she'd been disoriented, that her eyes had been all over the place searching curiously, like a newborn's. But then she'd imprinted on Phillip and the world had gotten some focus back. I guess... What it meant, was that seeing someone familiar grounded you, tied you to humanity.

I knew it was coming. His heart was pumping sluggishly, but there was little to no blood in his system. Either way, a short breath took up the whole room leaving me statue still, watching my brother's chest rise a bit, before eyelids twitched open. From the first moment his eyes were open to the world, I saw the vagueness on his face, the daze. His lips parted—the floor creaked underneath my chair.

On pure instinct, Phillip's head snapped my way. Relief crashed into me like a wrecking ball. His eyes weren't glowing; they were intense blue. Vivid. Maybe a little dull from... Something shifted in his gaze. His pupils dilated, growing in awareness, connecting with mine.

My mouth felt like stone when I tried talking...

"Cameron...?" His voice was raspy, quiet like a lullaby's lyrics fading inside a storm. Dumbly, I nodded. He didn't move again, swaying his eyes along my face, like he was piecing a puzzle in his mind. "Cam," he stated this time. I looked at him. He blinked, tiredly. "Cam..." He repeated, that's when I noticed where his eyes had slipped to...

The carotid artery on my neck. Wow. Okay, blood thirst was real right now.

Keeping calm, I simply said, "You remember my name—that's good. Do you know who you are?"

Phillip took a little bit to get back to me, frowning. He wanted to keep eying my neck, but at my question his gaze struggled towards my own.

"I... Brothers... We're brothers—I'm your brother." He paused. "My name's Phillip."

He wasn't amnesiac. That was a start. I'd heard stories from Rory how newborn Vampires sometimes lost memories or completely forgot who they were before they completed the transition, the ones who did.

"That's right," I whispered, making sure to lock eyes with him. He turned on his side, slowly, rubbing his arms. "Are you okay?" That was a stupid question. He'd died and come back a Vampire. He wasn't okay.

"I'm cold... A lot." He muttered glancing down at his arms, looking lost. "Hungry, too. A lot... Cam?" He asked and damn it, he sounded like the eight-year-old who'd asked me for bedtime stories because he couldn't sleep or when he'd asked to sleep in my bed because of nightmares about the day our parents died. "I don't understand... I feel... My head's fuzzy. I never feel cold, I… I can't? I used to when—when we were kids, before my ability…"

"I know, little brother. I know."

"Why... then?"

"Because..." How was I supposed to do this? Flat out telling him didn't seem like a good way to go, Phillip looked vulnerable. "What do you remember?"

Phillip wasn't paying attention now; he was staring down at himself. Looking at the dried blood covering his skin and clothes. His eyes were stuck on the blood smears, but there was a sparkle of recognition. A flicker of horror later, Philip was sitting fully, breathing crazy fast. I bolted to his side uncaring of him possibly biting me thus completing the transition before he even knew what was happening.

"Cam, I... I tried killing you. I almost killed Nina—" He choked out, a hand flying to his stomach like he was feeling sick. I wasn't sure that was possible anymore—feeling sick. His electrical eyes pounced mine, "I tortured you with that thing—"

His words became stuttered once I clasped his face, cringing inside at the cold coming off it. My brother's skin had always been steaming hot, thanks to his ability. Now that was gone.

"Phillip, I don't care. Okay? I know what it's like to play the blame game, but it wasn't you. None of it—your blood was poisoned. It twisted you, you weren't in control—"

"But..." Wetness reached my hands, slipping over my fingers. My heart rocked as Phillip shook, "I saw everything, I... I felt it and I couldn't stop... I just couldn't..."

My arms went around him, holding him close before his newly found hunger registered. I knew I could wrestle him off if he lost it and went all fang-happy on me. Phillip didn't shy away, he just heaved quietly into the crushing embrace I had him pinned in. The last time I'd done this—held my brother while he cried, really cried—was on our thirteenth birthday. Phillip hadn't handled Mom and Dad not being with us. He'd always cried on our birthday; every year he'd pretend going to sleep earlier... Probably didn't think I'd listen to the sobs, but, well... Super hearing and all. But the year we turned thirteen, we'd gone for a hike and ended up at the clearing where our parents met. It broke Phillip. He'd cried rivers. I'd held him. After that year, he'd never cried on our birthday again.

"It's okay," I whispered. I was fucking tempted to release Uriel just to rip out her heart for what she'd done. This was all her fault. "I don't blame you. Nina doesn't blame you. Serena..." I held him tighter. "She loves you, too. What happened... That wasn't you—you said it yourself, right?" I ran a hand through his dark sandy hair, dying inside as more tears stained my shirt, soaking me. "Little brother, please..."

I tightened my arms. This was killing me, I was being strong on the surface, pretending for his sake. Like I'd done so many times before: acting like I gave two shits about school sports or playing human. I wouldn't lie, I'd wanted to kill some people when I was growing up—I'd been an angry kid, no surprise there. Every time I got pissed off, I'd thought of Phillip and how me going off the rails would affect him, how he wanted a human life. How I never wanted to hurt him again, like I'd done when we were eight.

I'd done my best for him. All for him—until Nina.

"Phillip," I whispered against his hair. He was shaking, not crying anymore. Not letting go. "Let it go, brother. I have."

"How…"

I clasped his nape pulling back enough to connect our eyes.

"You're my brother," I said. "You're the guy who made a Deal with a Fallen to save my life. You're annoyingly compassionate, loyal and you've never given up on me. I…" Phillip was breathing slower. Good. "I love you. You—the real you—could never do anything to change how I feel."

Phillip nodded several times, his face scrunched up and I couldn't help slapping his cheek, lightly. He blinked getting his bearings, surprised. I smiled a little, pointing a finger right at his face.

"Now, stop crying or I swear I'll kick your ass."

He snorted softly, lips quirking until they froze. Every muscle on his face went rigid and I felt the change coming from my twin. He pulled away looking down at his blood covered shirt. Phill lifted a shaky hand, pressing two fingers to the tender patch of newly knitted skin. I saw puzzle pieces jam together behind foggy eyes, his breathing was picking up again—but he didn't need to breathe anymore. It was a basic human reflex.

"I died…"

"Phillip—"

He jerked away when I reached for his shoulder, eyes wide and wild.

"No—I died. I… I remember! The Vampires attacked and Nina was there—she was there and…"

I grabbed him by the shoulders, making sure he couldn't break my hold. The veins around his eyes were pushing against his skin, the pupils were pulsing. He didn't know what was going on inside him, if he lost it, he could end up feeding before I got to explain.

"Phillip!"

"What, Cameron?" I hesitated. He'd gone from antsy to angry in half a second. Fast mood swings weren't. They're my thing, so I know. My fingers dug into his muscle and bone, it had to hurt, but he didn't even wince. "I remember dying, I remember you. Then… there was nothing. No pain. No feelings. Nothing."

Phillip grabbed my left wrist to dislodge my death grip. His fingers wrapped around it and stopped—his eyes were glued to the underside of my wrist. Glaring heatedly. Hungrily. At my arteries. He looked focused as hell—I knew he was listening to the rush of blood. Phillip's fingers edged off slowly. I glanced at my twin's face. He shifted his jaw trying to work out a kink or trying to unstuck something in his gums. Phillip closed his mouth horrified.

A tiny blood drop ran down his lip. Fangs? Check.

"Phill," I hissed reinforcing my steel grip on him. Just in case. He was all over the place. "You need to calm down. I know it's not easy, I know better than anyone, but…"

"If I don't… I might feed on someone." He finished in a monotone finally understanding why he wasn't a rotting corpse. "I'm a Vampire…"

"Not yet," I hurried.

"How did this—they drained me enough? I lost enough blood?" I nodded.

Something broke inside him. He gathered enough strength to swell his biceps and shove me off. I toppled off the bed, landing on my ass. I braced my forearms on the floor, pushing myself to up. I watched Phillip's hands shake even as he made fists, watched as he buried screaming and anger by gluing his eyes shut. Shit. Nothing in life ever prepared me for this sort of pep talk. I didn't know what to say.

So, I said the first thing that popped into my head. That's just the kinda guy I am.

"You're not a Vampire yet. You're in limbo, Phillip." His glazed over gaze stared back at me. I stayed very still, knowing anything could set him off. "Remember when we were fourteen and Raphael sent us on a hunting trip in Seattle? It was our first Demon pack. Everything was going smoothly, you'd taken out two Possessors and—"

"I left my guard down," he weighed in, distant.

"Yeah. A Possessor came from upstairs and it tried stabbing you with a piece of broken wood? I knocked you out of the way and got stabbed instead." My jaw flexed. "My point is, that was my choice. You have a choice, too, Phillip. Just like when you went to Hell—alone—to save me. You came out on top because you chose to survive. I wasn't there, I didn't make those choices. It was all you." My shoulders hunched in a shrug. "Some choices are hard. Sometimes we need to choose between crappy and crappier..." I got up, crouching to his eye level. "Just know that whatever decision you make," I looked him dead in the eye making sure I drove my point across—that I wasn't just saying pansy-ass shit. "We'll always be brothers. It doesn't matter what you are. Nothing will ever change that."

Phillip reverted into silence, fists tight on his knees. I sighed, scratching a thumb over my left eyebrow looking down at him. We got out of a shitty mess, to catapult into a shittier one. The thought of sitting still was worse than anything, even with every fiber in my body screaming for me to sit down, so, I leaned on the door. Eyes on the ceiling.

"Is she alright?"

For a split second I thought he meant Nina, a look into the depth of guilt in those electric irises—so different from mine—I knew better.

"Serena's fine. Really, she is. A lot's happened since that night—at the club. Nina took care of her. When she got better, they tracked me down with some Witchy ritual and carried out their 'rescue' mission." My brother had the indecency to look like he didn't believe a word I'd just said. Don't yell, I chanted, feeling my blood close to boiling point. "Phillip, she almost lost her mind when we got you in the car—once she could actually see you." He frowned. I waved a hand dramatically, "Nina's bracelet had an invisibility glamor. We put it on you. We couldn't just carry a dead guy across the street." Phillip touched his chest like he wanted to feel the frail heartbeat keeping him alive. "Story short, yes."

"Yes what?"

I closed and opened my hands, closing my eyes in some sort of Zen therapy. He was dense sometimes.

"Yes, she'll forgive you."

More silence.

I tilted my chin, glaring silently over his shoulder. I was Phillip's twin, but, right now? I couldn't phantom what was spinning in that martyr brain of his. Or how his bleeding heart was breaking over everything he'd done under the influence of the darkest places of his soul. I felt guilt over things. But Phillip had a tendency to shoulder every mistake. What happened when he crumbled under the weight? He went and pulled off deadly stunts, trying to make up for said mistakes.

His head hung as he gazed down at his hands—still digging his nails into the skin's palms.

"I never want to hurt her again, Cam. Any of you." His tone was remorseful.

"If you choose to turn, you'll do fine. You taught Vanessa. She hasn't lost control, she's never killed. She's a protégé." I said, throwing out my hands in a big praise.

Phillip eyed me with hooded eyes, slowly cocking his head.

"Yeah, but I asked Rory for advice. She helped a lot." He paused. I knew he was swallowing a lump. "She's… gone now."

I barely contained the roar climbing up my throat—keep your temper in check, Leale. Delicate situation, I had to keep reminding myself every five seconds.

"I'm not gone. I'll be there for you every step of the way, as long as you need. And I know it wouldn't be just me—" There was a loud thump as I beat my hand on the door. "They'll help, too."

Taking a minute to focus on the vibes I was getting from Phill's pose—shoulders slacked, fingers only slightly flexed now—I decided he wasn't going to bolt out the door and suck someone dry, shriveling them into a prune. I walked toward the armchair. Ah, my body sighed, delighted.

"If I turn… I won't age. I won't ever… start a family… 'Course if I die, I won't do any of that, anyway. Pretty much a lose-lose scenario." He stated quietly, mournful.

"It's your choice." Okay, for someone who didn't want to make the choice for him, that came out extremely bitter-sounding.

A couple of hours ticked away. We sat together in silence. It wasn't comfortable for me or him. I knew me being here was what he wanted though, he hated the thought of being alone. Which I totally got when it came to matters of life-or-death. I was leaning next to the window, looking outside through the space between the blinders. I could see the ocean. Waves crashing on sand. The sun was dipping into the ocean, mingling coral hues and orange in the distance. People were walking along the shore without a care. What I wouldn't do to trade places with a human this second.

"Do you know what I've been thinking about?" Phillip asked huskily.

"Can't say I do, little brother." Anything ranging from hurting me to torturing the girl he loved, if I had to bet.

What he said next, though, stunned me into silence. Part of me throbbed because I hadn't been thinking it over myself, another part, thrummed with anger, red-rage poking ire.

"About how I teamed up with the person who murdered our parents." His eyes slid along the floor, climbing up my body, meeting mine. Black and blue. Stark contrast. Veins were poking under and around his eye sockets, the hollows of his cheeks were sunken deep. All of those, packed with his icy paleness, made him the poster boy for a living skeleton. "I knew it was him. I knew before you did. He bragged about it and I didn't care, I couldn't do anything. I could've chopped his head off—I was so close to him, so many times... But I didn't do it."

"Not wanting to disappoint you, or anything, but I faced off against that fucker and got my ass kicked every time. I can tell you I was pretty damn capable of doing something—and I still couldn't. He's strong, Phillip. He could have killed me last time—at the club—he didn't because you made a Deal with him. Remember?" I hadn't thought about it until now, but if it weren't for Dark-Phillip and his desire to torture me eternally, Cain would've killed me back there.

"You didn't have the element of surprise—I did. If I could've gotten control, resisted the poison..." His jaw clamped shut and he tilted his head, looking like he was fighting to stay in control. When Phill's eyes opened, I saw his pupils were pulsating like crazy. Hunger pains were setting in. Great, I mentally grimaced. "You know, this might be delusion creeping in, but I think Lucifer's got some humanity inside—anger, hate, loneliness, love, I mean, they're emotions. But when I was with Cain... There was nothing motivating him to do the things I saw him do. He did them for fun. Because he was bored." He spat. "I can understand lashing out, feeling betrayed by your family—but Cain? He's just insane. A monster," Phillip's hands were shaking with small coming-and-going tremors. Damn it, Phill...

Keeping from slicing my wrist and shove it into his mouth, forcing him to drink? It was taking self-control I had no idea I possessed. Wasn't he going to choose? Was he going to give up and spend his last moments talking about that pile of death-worshiping-garbage? I grabbed the windowsill behind me. Small crack. Wood splintered under my fingers, digging under my skin and nails.

Not going to make the choice for him. No. No taking it away. He'll hate me forever—and that's a long time. A long, long time. I'll spend the rest of mine regretting it...

"I'll turn."

"...what?" It left in a breathless whisper.

"I'll turn," Phillip repeated in a steady enough voice, gritting his teeth. "But you have to promise me something?"

"Anything," was out of my mouth before I reminded myself I never broke promises and that Phillip wasn't thinking straight.

"We hunt Cain down and make him pay for what he did to our family." Phillip must've seen the hesitation spreading as a brooding line on my forehead, because he got up—staggering. I would've shot forward to catch him, but he came to me, grabbing my shirt. "He ruined our parents' lives, he destroyed us!" He hissed and I could see his fangs slip out a little, tips glinting.

"Phillip, not even Lucifer..."

He swung a hand towards the bedroom door.

"He killed Nina's entire family!"

My lips twisted in a sneer, "You don't need to tell me that. What? You think him killing our parents—making me kill Dad—isn't enough of a reason for me to want him to pay?" I fisted a hand on the front of his shirt, keeping our gazes from backing down. "I want to carve out his insides and feed them to him."

"Then help me—!" Phillip growled in quiet desperation. I could see my thirst for revenge mirrored in his hammering eyes. "We're not Lucifer. We're not alone. We have each other, we've always had each other's backs. We've planned, we've killed Demons, Vampires—even Fallens. It's what we've always done. Cain's just worse than all the others, but he's just another freak."

"We survive," I muttered, lashes lowering, eying our hands fisted in each other's shirts. We're family. I couldn't let him die. This promise wasn't even that hard—I wanted to hunt Cain and dance on his grave. The primal instinct demanded it, memories of eight year old boys crying over their parents graves tormented me... Appealed to my Power, the very own monster inside of me. I lifted my dusk gaze. "I give you my word we'll hunt Cain down and kill him. No matter what it takes." It wasn't hard at all.

Phillip gave a nod, short, but decisive. We walked towards the bed, me pulling him gently, sitting down. I could see a flicker of confusion riding my brother's eyes, at least until I dug a nail deep enough and dragged it across the underside of my wrist. My Power sprung to life, ready to close the small cut. I stilled it, slowing my healing to a minimum.

I lifted the bleeding wrist to his face watching as veins became even more prominent. Fangs slipped out of Phillip's gums, clearly not under his control. He startled once they nicked his lips again. He opened his mouth a little more to prevent it from happening again. This was who my brother would be from today on out. It wasn't ideal, definitely not an option we'd ever considered for either our futures, but it was a way to keep him alive.

"Out of everyone in this house I'm your best option to feed on. I can stop you from going too far and my blood will pack a punch." Phillip was trying his best not to jump forward and gnaw on my wrist—or worse, my neck. He kept glancing. "And you know I have a flare for the poetics." Against the strain he must've been feeling, his brow pinched in cloudy disorientation. "Never mind," I smiled wryly, offering my wrist closer.

I'd been fed on before. The time when I protected Nina on Halloween night hadn't been the first time, either. All those times before, I'd been an unwilling donor. Phillip didn't waste any time once I pushed the bleeding cut to his face. His hands grabbed me—one my arm, another grabbed my hand—trying to work out a good angle. The first time he missed my artery—it stung. I had to convince my body this was okay—no recoiling—I was alright with the intrusive extra-sharp, canine teeth digging around, trying to pierce my blood vessels. Soon, it wasn't painful and Phillip was getting the hang of the technique. He was taking blood fast, but some was running down his chin and neck, I saw it through slit eyes.

Gauntness started to leave him. His skin inflated with each drop he drunk, getting his appearance closer to mine, even the skin went up a shade. The tremors he'd been experiencing for the past hours we'd been locked in were gone.

Blood brothers, I thought, finding myself enjoying the feelings of nourishment and content springing inside me.