Willow dragged Declan into the barn and over to a pile of straw at the far back of the large, gray barn. There were no animals in the barn, but the scent of horses and leather lingered on the air. She wished there were animals here; she could have fed on them instead of leaving Declan to hunt, but now, she had no choice.
She settled Declan onto the bed of straw and knelt at his side. When she brushed back the strands of his hair to reveal more of his face, dread coiled in her stomach when she saw none of the colors had eased from him.
With trembling hands, she turned her attention from him and to the rest of his body. The bleeding had stopped, but she didn’t think it was because the wounds were healing. In fact, when she looked closer, she saw his flesh hadn’t sealed around the bolts as it usually would. Instead, he’d stopped bleeding because he no longer had enough blood left to shed.
The beat of his heart was so languid she barely breathed as she waited for each beat to be his last. She was reluctant to leave his side, but she had to get him blood soon.
She pushed herself up and hurried to the front of the barn, where she slid the ten-foot-high door further open. A nervous glance around the field and paddock revealed both were still empty as she jogged toward the pickup.
After driving the owner of the truck twenty minutes to his house, she fed on him and gave more of her blood to Declan. He was the first human she ever fed from, and though she hated doing it, Declan needed the blood.
Afterward, she left Declan in the truck while she followed the man inside. He had no other vehicle, so after learning more about him, she left him with instructions to call his son in three days. That was when he could report his truck stolen. Willow would have made him wait longer, but he didn’t have much food in the house and no way to get any more.
She called Vicky from the man’s home and listened to her sister sob with joy while she held back her tears. It was tempting to stay at the man’s house and wait for the cavalry to arrive, but they were still too close to Culver for her liking.
Unable to give Vicky a destination of where she would go, she told her she was going to put more distance between them and Culver. She couldn’t stop somewhere to buy a new phone because of cameras, so she didn’t see them getting their hands on a burner phone anytime soon, and the man didn’t have one for her to take.
Vicky told her that Abby and Brian were back, and Brian was looking for them, but Willow made her promise to call him off. She didn’t want anyone else tangled up in this mess or for something to happen to Brian. She promised Vicky she would do everything she could to make it home.
She asked about Lucien, but Vicky said there was still no sign of him. Unwilling to spend any more time on the phone, Willow told Vicky to pass her love on to her family and hung up.
That brief contact with her sister had reminded her of the world beyond the blood, death, and terror she’d been residing in, and she hated relinquishing her only tie to it. But she’d hung up the phone, left the house behind, and returned to the truck and Declan. She put the sword back in the bed of the vehicle before climbing behind the wheel.
She kept to backroads in the hopes of discovering a place where they could hide until Declan recovered. They traveled over fifty miles before she spotted this barn. The windows of the house two hundred feet away were broken out. The charred roof sagged in one section, and in another, it had collapsed into the burned-out home.
Whoever once lived there was gone; she didn’t know if they would be back to rebuild, but that wasn’t a concern for today. She would be out of here before then, or at least she hoped she would.
She longed to go home, but she didn’t dare make the journey while Declan was still so vulnerable. With all the cameras between here and there, the Savages might spot her. Or the assholes could turn to the media for help with hunting her and Declan, so it was best if they stayed low until he was stronger.
She drove the truck into the barn, climbed out, and closed the barn door behind her. Leaning against the door, she took a deep breath as she took in the shadowy interior. The sun’s rays spilled through the slats of the walls, and dust particles danced in the air. The ladder to the loft was five feet in front of the pile of straw Declan lay on.
Willow stepped away from the door and removed the sword from the truck bed before returning to Declan’s side. Setting it into the pile of straw, she knelt beside him as she bit into her wrist and held it to his mouth.
“You have to feed,” she coaxed, but he showed no sign he heard her.
She pushed her wrist between his lips and tilted his head back. Her blood filled his mouth until he swallowed. Running her fingers over his face, she memorized the feel of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, and the shape of his brow as she tried not to think about the possibility she might have already lost him.
He’d acted normal the last time they spoke, but the continued discoloration of his skin indicated he was far from under control.
“Stay with me,” she pleaded.
When her skin healed, she removed her wrist from his mouth and bit into it again before wedging it back between his lips. Lifting her head, she stared into the rafters and the bales of hay stacked above. On this level of the barn, three stalls lined each side; some of the doors were open, but others remained locked.
She was about to pull her wrist from his mouth to bite it again when his fangs pierced her flesh. Her relief was so profound she nearly wept when he started feeding on her.
Leaning closer to him, a few tears slid free when she pressed her cheek to his. “Come back to me.”
***
After Declan finished feeding, Willow knelt over him and held her breath as she waited for some sign of life. She’d given him a fair amount of her blood, but he remained unmoving. Inspecting his injuries again, she saw some of them were starting to close; unfortunately, that meant they were closing around the weapons still embedded in him.
Unable to leave the bolts in, Willow rested her hand on his shoulder and gripped one of them. Her teeth ground together as she tore it from his chest. Declan’s body followed the bolt a couple of inches off the ground before it came free, and he fell back again.
Willow groaned at the pain she’d inflicted on him, and there were still so many to go. She didn’t want to be the one who did this, but there were no other options. Fresh blood trickled from where she’d removed the bolt as her shaking hands gripped another one and pulled it free.
Judging by the location of the bolts, at least six of them had pierced organs, which was part of the reason he was struggling to heal. She’d never seen anyone sustain this much damage and keep going. The fact he’d remained conscious and fighting for so long was a miracle—one she suspected had to do with the color pulsing through him.
Willow couldn’t think about what she was doing and how much it hurt him as she methodically pulled the rest of the bolts free and tossed them into the closest stall. If she thought about it, she’d never finish her task.
When she finished, she bit into her wrist and held it to Declan’s mouth. At first, he didn’t feed again, but after a few minutes, his fangs pierced her flesh and he started draining her.
While he fed, she inspected the bullet holes. Most of the bullets had already worked their way free; the other ones were moving toward the surface. With nothing to help her dig them out, she had no choice but to let them do their own thing.
When she couldn’t take any more blood loss, she pulled her wrist from his mouth and lay in the straw beside him. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face as he lay sleeping beside her.
Resting her hand on his chest, she cherished the beat of his slower-than-normal heart. The blood seeping from his freshly reopened wounds eased, but at least this time, it wasn’t because he didn’t have enough blood in him. Instead, it was because he was finally healing again.
Exhausted, famished, and battered herself, Willow tried to stay awake, but at some point, she lost the battle and passed out.