Chapter Seven
Standing over Nick, Logan watched the shallow rise and fall of his mate's ribs. Sweat dampened the hair at his temples, and even though Nick was unconscious, tension pulled at the corners of his mouth.
A knock sounded behind him. Before Logan could respond, Zeppelin pushed through the door, filling the frame with his height. His alpha's gaze swept the room, landing on Nick then swinging to Logan.
“What’s going on?”
Logan ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the roots.
Where did he even start? “Met my mate at Frothy Pine yesterday. He collapsed during his shift.” The words came faster now, tumbling over each other.
“Took him to the hospital. They found nothing except low iron.
Same shit he's dealt with his entire life.”
Zeppelin moved closer to the bed, studying Nick with the kind of focus he usually reserved for mates. “Your slumbering revelation mate?”
Logan smirked. “Yeah, about that… Nick didn't know he was a vampire until last night when came to me for blood.” He touched the spot where Nick's fangs had pierced skin. It was nobody’s business that Nick had attacked him. “He’s been starving his whole life, Zep. No one figured it out. Not a single goddamn doctor found an anomaly.”
His alpha’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in those dark eyes. Understanding, maybe. “You fed him.”
“Multiple times.” Logan gestured at Nick's prone form. “He should be fine. That's how it works, right? Vampires drink blood, problem solved. Vampires drink preternatural blood, even better. Except he’s cramping worse than before.”
“And not a single doctor detected what he is?” Zeppelin asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
“They never find anything.” Bitterness coated Logan’s tongue. “Twenty-six years of tests and specialists and they've got nothing. Just keep pushing iron supplements like that'll fix whatever's tearing him apart from the inside. If it wasn’t his need for blood, then what’s causing the cramping?”
Silence stretched between them. Outside, someone laughed in the hallway, the sound muffled through the door. Normal pack life continued while Logan’s world had narrowed to this room, this bed, this man who kept slipping through his fingers.
Zeppelin crossed his arms, his gaze distant. “Maybe the problem isn’t human-related. Preternatural medicine might have answers their doctors don’t.” He pulled out his phone, thumbs already moving across the screen. “I know a vampire doctor. I’ll give him a call.”
Relief flooded through Logan’s system so fast his knees went weak. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet.” Zeppelin headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. “Keep him comfortable. I'll let you know when I hear back.”
After his alpha left, Logan sank into the chair beside the bed. He couldn't stop looking at Nick, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, the small movements that said he was still fighting even in sleep.
Another knock. Softer this time.
“Come in,” Logan called, not bothering to look up.
Jamie slipped through the door, moving with the quiet grace that came from living with Sloane. “Heard my friend was here.” He gestured toward the hallway. “You look like you could use a break. I'll sit with him.”
Logan’s first instinct was to refuse. Leaving Nick felt wrong, like abandoning his post. But exhaustion weighed on him, made his thoughts sluggish and his reactions slow. He was no good to Nick if he couldn't think straight.
“Just for a few minutes,” Logan said, standing. His legs protested, stiff from sitting. “He wakes up, you come get me immediately.”
“Deal.” Jamie settled into the chair, drawing his knees up. “Go. Breathe. I've got him.”
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like fresh coffee and something sweet. Logan made a beeline for the pot, pouring himself a mug and wrapping both hands around the warmth. He leaned against the counter, letting the heat seep into his palms.
A rush of air hit his face, followed by the flutter of wings. Newt sat on the counter next to the coffee maker, wings folded against his back. The fae was small, barely reaching Logan’s pecs when standing, with pointed ears and long, luxurious hair.
“Is it true?” Newt's voice came out hesitant and concerned. “Your mate's really a vampire?”
Logan took a long sip of coffee, buying himself time. News traveled fast in the pack house, but he hadn't expected it to spread this quickly. “Where'd you hear that?”
“Zeppelin told Vaughn, who told me.” Newt zipped to the ceiling, wings fluttering. “So? Is he?”
Worry gnawed at Logan’s gut. How would the other mates react? Vampires and fae had a complicated history, and bringing one into the pack house—mated or not—could stir up trouble. Would they treat Nick differently? Keep their distance? Make him feel unwelcome?
“Yeah,” Logan said finally. “He is.”
Newt's eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his blue-pink hair. Then he launched himself toward the entrance, wings buzzing as he zipped out of the kitchen.
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. Now everyone would know within the hour.
Footsteps approached from behind. Zeppelin appeared in the doorway, phone pressed to his ear. “Understood. We'll be here.” He ended the call and met Logan’s gaze. “Doctor can't show up until dark. He's vampire, so sunlight's an issue.”
Another wait. More hours of watching Nick suffer while they sat on their hands. Logan’s fingers tightened around his mug, ceramic warming against his skin. “How long?”
“Few hours.” Zeppelin moved to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. “He's good. It’s worth a shot since Nick is vampire too.”
Logan nodded, draining his coffee in three long gulps. The caffeine hit his system but did nothing to ease the knot in his stomach. He rinsed the mug, set it in the sink, and headed back upstairs.
Jamie still sat with Nick, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when Logan entered, offering a small smile. “He stirred once. Didn't wake up, just shifted positions.”
“Thanks.” Logan reclaimed his chair, and Jamie slipped out without another word.
Time crawled. Logan counted Nick's breaths and watched shadows lengthen across the floor as afternoon bled into evening. His mate didn't wake, but the tension in his face eased slightly, the pain giving way to something closer to rest.
Finally, as darkness claimed the sky outside, a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Logan called.
A man stepped through, carrying a black leather bag. He was tall, with pale skin and dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Dark eyes swept the room, landing on Nick with professional interest. “I'm Dr. Thorne.”
Logan stood, positioning himself between the doctor and the bed. Protective instinct flared hot in his gut. “Logan. This is Nick.”
“Your mate, I understand.” Dr. Thorne set his bag on the dresser, opening it with practiced efficiency. “Zeppelin briefed me on the situation. I'll need a blood sample to run some tests.”
On the bed, Nick stirred. His eyes cracked open, unfocused and hazy. “Logan?”
“Right here, baby.” Logan moved to his side, taking Nick's hand. “There's a doctor here. He's going to help.”
Nick's gaze found Dr. Thorne, and something flickered across his face. Recognition, maybe, of what the man was. “Okay.”
“I need your permission to draw blood,” Dr. Thorne said, pulling supplies from his bag.
“Go ahead.” Nick's voice came out rough, strained.
Logan’s stomach clenched. Watching someone approach his mate with a needle felt wrong on every level. His wolf paced restlessly, wanting to intervene, to protect. But Nick needed answers, and this was, hopefully, the only way to get them.
Dr. Thorne worked quickly, tying a tourniquet around Nick's arm and swabbing the inside of his elbow. The needle slid in smoothly, blood flowing into the vial. Logan forced himself to watch, to stay calm, even as every instinct screamed at him to stop this.
After filling the vial, Dr. Thorne removed the needle and pressed gauze to the puncture site. “Hold this.”
Nick complied, his other hand still gripping Logan’s.
Opening his bag wider, Dr. Thorne revealed an array of strange instruments. Vials of colored liquid, small glass slides, and what looked like a miniature centrifuge. Logan stared, trying to figure out what a vampire would need with half this equipment.
Dr. Thorne's nose twitched. He paused, head tilting slightly, then glanced toward the door.
Logan’s gaze cut to Zeppelin, who'd appeared in the doorway. Their eyes met, and understanding passed between them. Newt. The doctor had caught the fae's scent.
But Dr. Thorne didn't comment, just went back to his work. He used a small dropper to add Nick's blood to a clear solution in a test tube. The liquid swirled, changing from clear to yellow then deepening to pale pink.
Dr. Thorne studied the results, his expression unreadable. Then he looked up, and a smile crossed his face. “Congratulations.”
Logan blinked. “What?”
Nick looked equally confused, propping himself up on his elbows. “Congratulations for what?”
“You're going to be fathers.” Dr. Thorne's smile widened, genuine warmth in it.
The words didn't make sense. Logan’s brain tried to process them, fitting them into some kind of logical order, but they kept sliding away. Fathers. Nick. Him. Fathers.
“I don't—” Logan started.
Nick's eyes rolled back. He collapsed against the pillows, out cold.
“Nick!” Logan lunged forward, catching his mate before he could slide off the bed entirely. “What the hell just happened?”
“Shock, most likely.” Dr. Thorne moved around the bed, checking Nick's pulse. “He'll be fine. His body's been through significant changes.”
“What changes?” Logan demanded, arranging Nick more comfortably on the mattress. “What's wrong with him?”
“Nothing's wrong.” Dr. Thorne packed his instruments back into his bag with careful movements. “Your mate is forming a temporary womb. The pain should ease up considerably over the next few days as his body adjusts.”
Logan sat down hard in the chair, his legs refusing to support him. A womb. Nick was growing a womb. They were going to be parents.
“How?” The question came out strangled. “He's male. Vampire. How is any of this possible?”
“Male vampires can conceive with their mates, regardless of species.” Dr. Thorne's tone remained calm, clinical. “He must be a direct descendant of Prince Christian. His body recognized the need to carry your child and began adapting.”
Logan stared at Nick's unconscious form, trying to reconcile everything he'd just heard. Yesterday, his mate had been a human suffering from mysterious episodes. Now he was a vampire carrying their baby.
Their baby.