Аманда Хокинг - Flutter

“I can’t eat. Not right now.” Ezra grimaced, as if he was in too much pain to even think of eating. I brushed his hair from his forehead, feeling how oddly clammy his skin felt.

After all that blood loss, I would think the only thing that would make him feel better was eating. I was about to say something to that effect when it dawned on me what was going on. The lycan had fed on him. That was something vampires never let other vampires do, unless they were lovers.

There was something sexual about the exchanging of blood, but it was more than that.

When Jack bit me, I could feel how much he loved him. It consumed me completely. I felt who he was flowing through me, and fortunately, he was all love and kindness. Ezra had just been bitten by a pack of disturbed, evil lycan. All their pain and anger had to be burning through him right now.

Physically and emotionally, they had drained and ruined him.

“Is it over now?” Peter asked quietly.

Ezra made a sound that resembled a pained moan but fought to suppress it. He had wrapped one arm around my back so he was gripping my side and the other was still on my leg. He gripped me so tightly, that had I been human, he would’ve broken bones and ruptured organs. As it was, I had to fight to keep from wincing. Instead, I stroked his back, doing everything in my power to comfort and ease the horrendous way he must be feeling. Despite the weakness that must be running through him, his muscles felt like concrete underneath my hands. He was tensed so tightly that his body had gone completely rigid, and his legs curled up a bit, closer to me. His breath came out ragged, pushed through clenched teeth. His heart beat was weaker than normal but also much faster than it should be a vampire. In order for him show any pain, it would have to be tremendous, but the fact that he was so obviously fighting it off as he openly clung to me meant that the pain he was feeling had to be worse than anything I could even imagine.

“My blood…” Ezra forced a few words, but he barely managed that.

“Just rest. We don’t need to talk.” I tried to reassure him, running my fingers through his blond hair.

Seeing Ezra like this, the strongest thing I had ever met, made me want to sob, but I swallowed it back. He didn’t need to deal with my blubbering at a time like this.

“No,” Ezra insisted, his voice sounding tight and weak. “My blood for your blood. It’s over.

We need to get out of here. Peter, can you…”

“I’ll make all the arrangements,” Peter said when Ezra trailed off. He was trying to keep his composure as much as possible, but his eyes burned with rage and pain. It killed him to know that Ezra was suffering so greatly because of him, that he had been forced to exchange his own blood for Peter’s life.

After a moment of staring regretfully at him, Peter went into action. He got his cell phone and started making phone calls, most of which I couldn’t understand because they were in Finnish.

“I’m sorry,” Ezra apologized quietly and tried to loosen on his grip.

“No, you’re okay,” I insisted. “Don’t worry.”

“I shouldn’t be burdening you with this,” Ezra insisted and started trying to pull himself away from me.

“No, stay.” I put my hand on his back, holding him to me. It hurt like hell the way he clung to me, but I would endure anything that made him feel better. Almost reluctantly, he gave in too, his hands clenching slightly less than were before. “Would anything help?”

“No. I just…” Ezra trailed off again, and a spasm went over his body. He gripped even tighter and I could barely breathe. The spasm passed, and he relaxed, as least as much as it had been before. “I’m sorry.”

“Ezra, stop. It’s okay.” Something occurred to me, and I looked up at Peter. He was still on the phone, but he caught my look and returned it curiously. He got off the phone hurriedly and waited expectantly. “This is because they drank his blood, right?”

“You’re a regular Sherlock,” Peter retorted tightly.

“It’s not just blood loss, though, right?” I continued, ignoring him. “There’s that too, but it’s because he had to feel all their hate and evil and everything. But when I drank Jack’s blood, I felt all his love-”

“No,” Ezra cut me off.

“But if you drank my blood, it would solve everything!” I persisted. “You’d get the blood you need and it’d erase your negative feelings.”

“No,” Peter said flatly. “That’s too excessive. You can’t do that.”

The way he looked at me, I knew it was more than that. Ezra drinking my blood would help, but Peter didn’t want him to do it because it was me. Even though we weren’t bonded anymore, Peter apparently wasn’t eager to share my blood with anyone else, even if it meant that Ezra would still suffer.

“If it makes him feel better-”

“No,” Ezra repeated. “I can’t do that to you. You would feel of some of this.” With that, he gripped me even tighter, and I had to admit, that it terrified to me feel any of what he felt. If it could do this to Ezra, the most powerful vampire I’d ever met, then it would desolate me.

“I can handle it,” I lied.

“No.” Ezra grimaced again, and I realized that fighting me over this was only making it worse.

“The best thing for him to do is rest,” Peter said, staring at us both with a severe expression on his face. “The feelings will fade, with time. Our flight leaves in seven hours. He can get some rest and eat, and then he ought to feel good enough to at least make it home.”

“Are you sure?” I whispered to Ezra, and I saw Peter stiffen out of the corner of my eye.

“You’re already doing too much,” Ezra insisted. He opened his eyes, trying to look at me through the pained sheen that covered his eyes.

“I’ve hardly done anything.” I pushed the hair from his eyes so I could get a better look at him.

“Right now, you’re doing everything.” He closed his eyes again, and buried his head deeper into my lap.

I didn’t really understand what the meant, so I looked to Peter for help, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

He watched Ezra for a moment as Ezra struggled to keep his breaths even. I felt him biting back screams, and I tried to whisper words of comfort to him. I held him to me, rubbing his back, and promising him that this would be over soon.

Peter set about packing our things and getting us ready to go. I felt like I should help him, but I couldn’t very well get out of bed and leave Ezra alone. For some reason, this had made him desperate for physical contact. Eventually, Peter suggested we get some sleep. Ezra seemed to be going in and out of consciousness. I managed to doze off a little bit while sitting up, but it was frequently interrupted by Ezra moaning or writhing or squeezing even tighter.

When Peter finally woke me in the evening, I had somehow moved so I was lying down.

Ezra was still tangled up with me, his head resting on my stomach, but the fierceness in his grip had disappeared. Peter helped Ezra to the bathroom to eat and get cleaned up, and I got up to stretch. I would never admit it openly, but my whole body ached terribly from the way he held me.

Peter came out of the bathroom to give Ezra privacy. I was standing next to the bed, feeling more emotionally drained than I ever had before. Comforting him had been more exhausting than I had thought anything could be. Peter looked at me knowingly, but I didn’t feel like I deserved any concern, so I tried to busy myself with straightening up the room.

“Alice,” Peter gently said and placed his hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “How are you holding up?”

“Better than Ezra,” I gave a hollow laugh.