Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Quin
Quin shifted on the bed, arms reaching out for Kit, but only space greeted him. He opened his bleary eyes to a brighter room than he’d expected, catching sight of Kit where he stood at the window, curtains thrown wide.
Quin’s brain failed to process the indistinct shape that loomed behind Kit in the low light.
Light. Fear flooded Quin. He threw off the covers and sprang up, blinking as black dots flickered across his vision. From this angle, Quin could see that the sun hadn’t yet risen.
It was close, though.
Kit stood there alone, the shape that Quin thought he’d seen now gone. Or—more likely—had never been there at all.
“Kit?” he called out.
Kit didn’t move a muscle.
Goosebumps broke out all over Quin’s body at Kit’s unnatural stillness. “Kit,” he said, more insistent this time, but Kit didn’t respond. Quin rushed over, grasping Kit by the shoulder and turning him around. What he saw had him stumbling backwards.
Kit’s open eyes were fully black, like two deep pools of oil. Blood trickled from them, cutting down his pale face and onto his bare chest. Stains dotted the carpet. Kit’s mouth was parted, fangs out and grazing his lips.
But it was his blank expression that had Quin’s stomach roiling.
Quin glanced out of the window, knowing that he’d kept the curtains shut to avoid the morning light.
One second Kit was standing there in front of Quin, and the next, he crumpled. Quin almost didn’t catch him. Kit weighed next to nothing, but he seemed slighter than usual. Quin placed Kit on the bed, then drew the curtains closed. After putting on the bedside table light, Quin perched beside Kit.
It was as if Kit wasn’t there at all.
Quin cupped Kit’s face with one hand. “Baby?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing. Not a twitch of a muscle, nor the blink of an eyelid.
Quin pushed down his panic. Other than his eyes, Kit didn’t appear hurt. He was in no immediate danger, so Quin ran to the bathroom, wetting a dark washcloth with warm water.
When he re-entered the bedroom, Kit still lay there, unmoving. As gently as possible, Quin wiped Kit’s face and chest clean of blood. At least he looked somewhat normal after that, and he’d stopped crying.
If it weren’t for his open, unseeing eyes, Quin might have presumed Kit was sleeping.
Quin returned to the bathroom only to throw the washcloth into the sink and to wipe his hands clean.
When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, his skin had paled, and his eyes were suspiciously wet.
He refused to get emotional, though. Kit needed him to keep a level head, so that’s what he’d do.
He got back onto the bed beside Kit, the mattress dipping under his weight. With care, he turned Kit’s face towards him. “Kit,” he said. “Come back to me.”
Quin waited for a long moment. During the day, Kit would go into a deep sleep, but not like this. Not when the sun hadn’t risen. Kit had told him he could sometimes stay up beyond the sunrise before falling into his usual sleeping state.
Quin found the wait unbearable. He sat up, gathering Kit in his arms. Eying Kit’s slack mouth and sharp fangs, he wondered if fresh blood might rouse him.
Going with his gut, Quin pressed a tentative thumb to one of Kit’s fangs, hard enough to slice his skin.
Quin hissed as he pushed his bleeding thumb into Kit’s mouth, swiping the digit over Kit’s tongue.
The change was instantaneous. Kit had been as limp as a newborn kitten, but he snatched Quin’s hand up and sucked on his thumb, the sudden movement making Quin gasp in shock. The pressure intensified as Kit tried to pull Quin’s thumb further into his mouth.
“Kit?”
At Quin’s words, Kit’s eyes moved, his eyelashes fluttering.
“Hey, baby boy,” Quin said, beyond relieved. “Are you…?” He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask. Kit wasn’t quite back yet; darkness still swallowed his eyes, and he was mindlessly sucking on Quin’s thumb.
Kit blinked once, twice. The blackness receded. If Quin hadn’t been staring at him, he might not have noticed at first. As Kit’s eyes gained clarity, Quin tried to slide his thumb out of his mouth, but Kit’s claws dug into his wrist, keeping him there.
“All right,” Quin said. “You need more blood. That’s fine. You don’t need to take my whole hand off.”
Kit lessened his hold, but only a little.
Quin stretched his free hand over to the nightstand to get his phone, checking the time. Almost seven. The sun had risen. Kit would fall into his natural sleeping state soon, but Quin was determined to wake him fully from this trance before that happened.
He withdrew his thumb with enough force that Kit would either have to let it go or bite down to keep it there. Thankfully, Quin pulled it free without losing it to a fang, though Kit tried to take chase.
“Baby, I want you to listen to me,” Quin said, voice firm. He held his throbbing thumb out of Kit’s reach. “Fight whatever has a hold on you, please. For me. I’m worried about you.”
Kit frowned, his eyes laser-focused on the bead of blood that formed on Quin’s finger. Before Quin knew it, Kit switched their positions. Quin’s head spun with how fast Kit had him on his back. Before he could protest, Kit dived for his neck, fangs snapping.
Quin shot his hand out and fisted Kit’s hair in a last-ditch attempt to stop him from biting. Kit hissed like a cornered cat, but the pain seemed to shock realisation into his eyes.
Quin disentangled his fingers from Kit’s hair, holding both hands up. “Kit?”
“What…” Kit’s eyes widened as he looked down at Quin and then around the room. “What’s happening?”
“Do you remember anything from the past ten minutes?” Quin asked, knowing the answer already.
“No—i-it’s morning, isn’t it?”
“It’s around seven, yeah.”
Kit ran his tongue over his teeth. “I can taste you in my mouth.”
Quin showed Kit his thumb. “You took a little.”
Kit’s brow creased. “Why am I awake? What happened?” he asked in a small voice.
Quin’s gaze flitted across the room and back again. “You were standing at the window, with the curtains thrown open. Your eyes were black.” He didn’t want to upset Kit, but he needed to be told the truth.
Kit jumped off Quin and stood at the edge of the bed, looking between Quin and the window. “What?” he asked, voice threadlike. “Why would my eyes look like that?”
“I don’t know, baby. Come here, please. Don’t run away from me.” Quin sat up, his heart racing. If Kit tried to escape in his panic, he’d get caught in the sun. Quin’s forehead beaded with sweat, even though the room was cool.
“No, Quin, I don’t understand.” Kit sent an anxious look at the window. “I don’t want to do that. I’m normal; I’m fine.”
Quin got up with deliberate slowness, making sure that Kit had plenty of time to reject his touch once it came. But Kit stood there, statue-still, gaze fixed upon the window. Quin put his arms around Kit and drew him close. “It’s all right,” he soothed.
“No, it’s not,” Kit said, choking on a sob.
“Hey, hey,” Quin said, stroking his hands over Kit’s bare back. “I’m here. I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Quin, I’m going insane.”
Quin used a couple of fingers to tilt Kit’s chin upwards. “What do you mean? Has this happened before?”
Kit shook under his touch. “I’ve been having dreams. At least, I think they’re dreams. Sometimes they feel so real…”
“What happens in them?”
“It’s not about what happens in the dreams, Quin. It’s about what happens when I wake up. I keep finding myself in places I shouldn’t be. The other night I woke up in the bathtub.”
“Lots of people sleepwalk,” Quin reasoned.
“How many people sleep-drown? Because my tub was full and I lay underneath the water.”
Quin blinked hard. Before he could interrogate Kit any further, Kit continued.
“I fed on a kid the other day. I don’t even remember leaving the house, but before I knew it, I was fangs deep in someone who looked maybe fifteen.
And that’s not to mention all the marks.
I thought I was doing it to myself, but now I’m not so sure.
How else could they get there, though?” Kit buzzed with frantic energy, his eyes blown wide in distress.
Quin held Kit’s wrists, rubbing little circles into his skin. “The marks that I saw that night, you’re saying that you woke up with them?”
“Yes. I had them on my ankles too. And around my neck. They were just dreams. But—” Kit broke off, shaking his head. “I’m going nuts, amn’t I? Did you know they killed the old vampires for this, for going insane with age? It’s just happening to me a bit earlier than expected.” He laughed hollowly.
Quin’s mind raced, running through all the possibilities and explanations. “You’re not crazy.”
“Quin. Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Crazy people rarely question if they’re crazy or not.”
Kit gave him a blank look that was more like his usual expression than the manic one he’d been wearing. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I forget you have a degree in psychiatry, Doctor Rheon?”
Quin’s adrenaline drained from his system all at once, leaving him light-headed.
“Baby, I’m just glad you’re back with me.
And—please listen to this—but I don’t need to have studied psychiatry to know that someone dealing with PTSD can have nightmares.
” He held a hand up to stop Kit when he opened his mouth.
“But you’re right. That doesn’t explain why I found you standing catatonic at the window. ”
Now that Quin was lucid, he remembered the shape he’d sworn he’d seen hovering near Kit. In his panic, he’d almost forgotten. He looked around the room, as if it might appear again.
“What are you looking for?” Kit asked.
“When I first saw you, it was like someone else stood there, too. I thought I was making things up since I was half asleep, but I’m not so sure.”
Kit looked like he might be sick. “Someone else was in the room with us?”