Page 33 of From the Shadows
“They’re silver. What’s going—” Dr. Oliver’s eyes widened. “Oh. Shit!” He reached out and grabbed the tube that ran from Shay’s leg to Diego’s mouth and quickly removed the needle. “Shay, I need you to move to the farthest corner of the mansion. Or have someone take you out of the house entirely and drive far away.”
Lethargy swept through Shay as he struggled to sit up. It was as if his body was rebelling against him. “What? Why?”
“Because Diego is calling to you. He’s desperate and needs someone he trusts to help him. That’s why your mind is fuzzy.”
Diego was calling tohim? Then that would mean Diego needed Shay, right? He peered at the doctor. “I can’t leave him! I have to help him.”
“And you will, but only if you’re out of the house.”
“What will happen to Diego?” Dr. Oliver looked away, and somehow Shay knew the truth deep down. “You’re sending me somewhere so Diego can die.”
“It’s a mercy,” Dr. Oliver insisted. “He’s embedded in your mind, and right now he only wants you. I don’t even know if other donors will be able to help him now.”
What the hell did that mean? “What are you saying?”
“There are rare cases where a vampire blood-ties himself to someone he trusts. We don’t understand the how or why, but on some level, even if Diego didn’t want to admit it, that’s you.”
“Then how can I leave him?”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll both die. Blood-tying is for a healthy vampire only because they won’t need as much. But someone like Diego who is weakened? Tying to someone means they won’t get proper nutrition from any other source. Even the bagged stuff will be less effective. In short, the vampire could diesimply because they can’t get enough blood from the one they’re tied to without killing them. That’s what Diego would need to do, Shay. He’d have to drain you dry, but even that won’t sate the hunger anymore.”
The words echoedin Diego’s mind. He didn’t want Shay to die. He’d actually come to care for him. His sweet and gentle way had helped Diego get over much of the guilt he’d been holding on to since that night in the hospital. Then there was seeing how Shay was with Jeremy, which showed Diego that despite how shitty his attitude had been, Shay continued taking care of his kid.
And, of course, Diego himself.
No way would he let Shay die. That wasn’t going to happen. He forced himself to rise up from the darkness, the same as he’d been doing for the last three hundred years, ignoring the gnawing hunger that demanded to be sated.
He’d done it for three centuries for people he didn’t know, but now? He would do what he had to in order to protect Shay. He’d promised that he’d keep him safe from the world, and Diego would never break a promise.
“Shay, you have to?—”
“No, he doesn’t,” Diego groaned, sitting up.
The pain was worse than anything he’d ever felt. It was as if iron shards exploded through his skin, then were ripped out.
“I’ll be fine,” Diego said, trying—and failing—to stand.
“Diego, lay back down,” Dr. Oliver ordered. “You need?—”
“I said I’m fine,” he snarled, pushing to his feet to prove his point. He had to center himself to keep from falling on his face, though.
“Diego, I?—”
He turned to Shay, who stood there, his shiny eyes wide, looking as though his heart was breaking.
“I’m okay, Shay. Promise.”
And then he found himself with arms full of a sobbing young man. “I thought you were going to die. I—I don’t want to lose you.”
In his far-too-long life, no one had ever expressed that sentiment. Most people—usually the ones they caught—were more than willing to see Diego shuffle off his immortal coil, especially if they had a hand—or talons or blades or whatever—in it.
“I’m fine,” he repeated, stroking Shay’s hair to comfort him, but loving the feeling of the silky strands as they slid through his fingers. Had he blood-tied himself to Shay? What did that even mean?
“You’re not,” Dr. Oliver insisted. “Look at your arm.”
Diego knew what he was talking about. Yes, he’d been starving himself for centuries because he refused to take a life, even if it was that of a murderer. Still, to assuage the doctor’s insistence, Diego took in a few deep, bracing breaths to center himself, then lifted his arm. It was mostly the same color as his skin, with only a slight discoloration. Definitely not something to get worked up about. Right?
“H-How?” the doctor sputtered. “I know what I saw. What weallsaw. That’s not possible.”
