Page 41 of Colin

Fox’s tense features softened as he sensed Dane’s capitulation. “Are you kidding me?” He let out a laugh. “He sought us out, without ever having seen us, because his friend told him offhand there were vampires in town. He wantsmore. He’s looking to turn, whether he knows it or not. It won’t take much convincing.”

“I don’t want to convince him.” Dane held up a hand, halting Fox’s protest. “Not when we don’t know for sure what we’re offering him. He needs to ask himself. Unprompted, uncoerced. It needs to be his idea.”

“It’s a deal, then.” There was a manic gleam in Fox’s eyes. “If he asks, we turn him.”

“Really?” Dane arched his brows. “A deal with the devil, Fox?”

“Why not?” Fox’s grin was a wicked thing. “The first one worked out for us so well.”

Dane shivered uncontrollably, despite his many layers and the bright sun beating down on the little patch of park grass they’d set themselves up on.

He couldn’t control the trembling any more than the dry, racking cough, although he’d been trying all morning with the latter. But the choked, strangled noises he made when he tried to suppress it only caused Fox’s brow to furrow even deeper with concern, so Dane had given up.

Speaking of…

Dane doubled over, the force of his cough wrenching through his body, making every ache and pain in his muscles let themselves be known several times over.

“F-Fuck,” he stammered once it was over.

Fox’s hand landed on his shoulder with a strong grip. “Dane…”

“No hospital,” Dane said as firmly as he could, already anticipating what Fox was going to say.

They’d tried it already. He’d been sent back out with antibiotics, a turkey sandwich, and a bill they had neither the intention nor the means to pay. And in the end, it hadn’t helped any.

Plus, he hated the shitty fluorescent lighting.

“No shelter either,” he grumbled, knowing already where Fox would go with his demands next.

He might have been freezing on the inside, but it was plenty warm enough to sleep outside, and that was where he’d rather be. Somewhere he didn’t have to worry about his ridiculous fucking cough keeping everybody else up at night.

Well, anyone other than Fox, but there was no way in hell he was leaving Dane’s side, no matter how much sleep Dane cost him, so it wasn’t worth bringing up, was it?

The warm weight of Fox’s hand settled on his cheek, pulling Dane’s eyes to his. Identical eyes, or at least they should have been, except Dane knew his own were glassy and red-rimmed from fever. That wasn’t the only difference between them anymore either. Dane’s skin had grown pale and dull, and he was pretty sure he’d lost a fair amount of muscle, what with how he hadn’t been able to keep anything down the past few days. Or had it been weeks?

Either way, he knew it wasn’t a good sign.

None of it was a good sign. It all pointed to a bad end for him.

And then what would happen to Fox?

The irony was they’d been doing sowell. For years, they’d managed better than anyone could have expected, considering they’d been teen runaways without so much as a high school degree between them. But then the place they’d been squatting in had been raided and boarded up, the few nights they’d spent in jail had cost them their jobs, and then it had been in and out of shelters and sleeping on the streets ever since.

Which would have been fine. They had each other still; what the fuck else did they need? But then Dane had gotten sick, like a complete asshole, and now he was mucking it all up for the both of them.

Fox’s hand was still on his cheek. “I’m worried about you,” he said slowly. Deliberately. As if Dane wouldn’t hear it otherwise.

“As you should be.”

The two of them jumped at the unknown feminine voice, turning in unison to see they’d been joined by a stranger. They hadn’t even heard her approach. Dane blinked bleary eyes—she looked vaguely familiar. Dirty-blonde hair. Sharp, fox-like features. He’d seen her around, he was pretty sure, her clothesthe right style to blend in but too clean for someone living on the street.

“Who the fuck are you?” Fox asked, hostility in his voice, defensive as ever in the face of someone unknown butting into their business.

“He’s dying, you know,” the stranger said in lieu of answering, her tone conversational. “I don’t think a hospital would even help him much, at this point.”

Fox sneered at her. “And you’re a doctor, are you?”

“No.” She gave them both a secretive smile. “I’m something much better.”

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