Forever Broken

“Ray.” The other man sounded uneasy. “Lookit his eyes. What the fuck? They were blue and now they’re yellow.”

“They’re both gonna be black by the time I finish with him.” Ray took a step forward. “Come on, faggot.”

“You asked for it.” Suddenly Paul was a blur of angry motion. Laurent felt the two men’s hands pried off his arms and then Paul punched the first one in the stomach and the second in the chin. Both of them went down like sacks of dirty laundry, hitting the floor hard.

By then Laurent was falling himself. He had no one to support him and no strength left to stand on his own. He would have ended up on the floor with his attackers if Paul hadn’t caught him and swung him up into his arms. “Paul?” He could barely make his eyes focus. “Where…?”

The wolf shook his head. “Taking you to a room. We need to get completely out of the sunlight and away from these cabrons so you can rest.” Doesn’t matter where we go. Too late. But Laurent had no strength to say the words.

Giving in to exhaustion, he let his head drop onto the were’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

*

When he came to himself again he was in a dim, cool room on a lumpy king-size bed. Paul was bending over him with a glass in his hand. “Here, try some of this.”

Laurent sipped obediently but the cold water did little to slake his thirst. Instead, it made him aware of how terribly thirsty he really was, setting his throat on fire with need. Moaning, he pushed the glass way. “No help. Makes it…worse.”

Paul frowned and set the glass down on the night table with a thump that slopped water over the side. “Water isn’t what you need, is it?”

Mutely, Laurent shook his head.

“What then?”

“You know…what.” The words were so hard to get out. He closed his eyes again, wanting to drift back to oblivion, but Paul snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Hey, stay with me. So you need blood, right?”

Laurent nodded.

“All right.” Paul stood up. “I’ll find you a hooker. Don’t know where at this time of day but there’s bound to be one around somewhere who won’t mind you snacking on her if the price is right.” He turned to go and Laurent mustered the strength to say something.

“Wait.”

“What?” Paul frowned and sat beside him on the bed. “You shouldn’t try to talk, ’mano. You’re too weak.”

“Dying. Don’t want…to be alone.” Laurent reached for his hand and was surprised and gratified when Paul allowed the touch and even gripped his fingers tightly.

“Don’t talk like that. You’re not dying. I told you, I’ll get you a blood donor—”

“Other blood…no good. The bond…need…” Laurent couldn’t go on but Paul went very still and from the look on his face, he understood.

“Dios, you need my blood. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Laurent nodded. “Forgive me…the bond…you are the only…only one…”

“The bond hooks us together and makes me the only one you can drink from?”

Paul frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Couldn’t.” Laurent shook his head. “You don’t…don’t have to feed me. Just…just stay with me. Don’t want to…be alone.”

“Dios, Laurent. Of course I have to feed you. What the fuck? You think I’m going to let you die?” A mixture of worry and anger radiated from Paul like heat. “Thought you said…not a blood donor.”

The wolf sighed. “Looks like I’ll be making another exception.” He pulled his shirt over his head and started to lean over and offer Laurent his neck. The scent of warm fur and spice was strong, making Laurent’s mouth water and his cock hard. Mon Dieu.

Want you, mon amour. Need you so much…

But just as his fangs were elongating in anticipation Paul pulled away.

Laurent moaned softly. Surely the were would not be so cruel. Better to die knowing there was no help than to be offered what he needed—Paul’s life-giving blood—and have it withdrawn at the last instant.

“Wait a second.” Paul was frowning. “Sorry, I know you’re hungry. But look, I don’t want you biting me where anyone else can see the marks. I had a hell of a time explaining your last little love bite and I don’t want to go back home looking like you’ve been using me as a fucking pin cushion.”

“Inner wrist?” Laurent looked hopefully at the other man’s muscular forearms.

“Elbow?”

Paul shook his head. “No good. I’d have to wear a long-sleeved shirt. And nobody would believe it was because I was cold. Not in fucking Miami.”

“No,” Laurent agreed faintly. He was rapidly running out of hope. “Thigh?” he asked, knowing that Paul was bound to refuse. But aside from the neck, the inner thigh offered the best access to large blood vessels.

Paul looked worried for a moment but then he stood up and began shoving off his jeans. “Fine. But no fucking funny business.”