Chapter 20
Eddie is finishing up at the gym when he gets a text from Hakeem.
Hakeem: Eddie, are you on your way home? I’ve got this sinking feeling. Jackson isn’t answering.
Eddie: Just got off work. What’s wrong?
H: I don’t know. I can’t leave the lab—we’re about to run something delicate.
E: I’ll be home soon. I’ll let you know if anything’s up.
H: Thanks. I hope I’m just being paranoid.
E: After everything that’s happened, it’s better to trust your gut.
Eddie pockets his phone and takes his bike off his keychain. Getting his helmet on, he feels his heartbeat begin to race. His hand began to shake, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Perhaps Hakeem wasn’t being paranoid.
Eddie needs to get home now.
When Eddie opens the apartment door, the lights are off. The sun had set over an hour ago—8:30 in the evening, leaving everything in darkness.
Was Jackson out?
He makes his way inside, closing the door behind him slowly. A hiss comes from the base of the stairs—Princess Bandit, on guard.
Making his way over to the small creature cautiously, Eddie bends down to her level. “Hey, Princess, what’s wrong?”
The raccoon startles, eyes going wide before she scurries to hide behind him.“Is Jackson upstairs?” The raccoon simply chitters, her voice small behind Eddie’s back.
“Jackson? You home, buddy?” Eddie is cautious as he goes up the stairs.
He can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong as he stops in front of Jackson’s door.
He hears movement inside—like Jackson is trapped in a nightmare.
Perhaps he needed a nap that went on for too long.
Then why wouldn’t this knot in Eddie’s stomach go away?
“Jackson, are you okay in there?” Eddie’s about to knock on the door when a scream tears through the air.
“NO!”
The scream is raw—rage and venom tearing through it. Princess bolts for cover beneath the couch.
Eddie doesn’t have time to react.
Blades of shadow rip through the wall of Jackson’s room, carving into the banister behind Eddie. Jackson’s door splinters and shatters as a tendril of darkness slices through it, hitting Eddie square in his chest.
Eddie has a split second to react—his body flaring with an aura of ocean blue.
His magic flares to life at the last moment to deflect the blow, not without tearing into his shirt where the slash connected.
Would Eddie have been able to withstand such an assault before his magic began to change?
Concern for his own well being is clouded by the thought of the man who lay behind the crumbling door before him.
His body moves before he can think. The air fills with the scent of copper.
Blood!
“Jackson!”
Eddie rams into the door, it gives way easily after taking damage from the shadowy blade.
The wood flies off its hinges, dust and debris dancing in the air as it crashes into the bedroom floor.
He spots Jackson sitting up in his bed, breathing reduced to short frantic huffs, sweat glistening on his forehead and eyes glowing a deep crimson.
* * *
Jackson wakes up from his nightmare, he can barely process what’s happening around him.
Is someone calling his name? It sounds like they’re calling out to him through water, his ears filled with the rushing of his blood.
Dust and debris fill his room, once pristine now a disastrous mess.
The smell of blood tickles his nose when he realizes someone has made their way to him.
His hands grab on the sheets of his bed, knuckles turning white from his grip.
“Jackson!” Eddie is beside him now, face filled with dread.
“Eddie,” Jackson huffs between words, his heart beating erratically, his mind racing after awakening.
“What happened? Your shirt-” Jackson reaches out, vision blurry.
He feels a warm, sticky wetness on his hand.
When he pulls back he sees red where Eddie’s chest is exposed by his ruined shirt. “You’re hurt!”
Jackson looks around his room, taking in the excessive damage. As if a wild beast went on a rampage, shredding through wood, stone, and glass.
“Jackson.”
He doesn’t focus on the voice calling out to him as realization dawns on him. “Eddie, you’re hurt. Did I do this? Gods, Eddie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Jackson!”
“This shouldn’t be happening, not again. I can fix this, I just need to -”
“JACKSON!”
Eddie grabs Jackson’s face in one hand while grasping his arm with the other.
“I’m not the one that’s hurt.” Jackson can hardly focus on what Eddie’s saying, not as searing pain travels down his arm.
“You are.” Jackson looks at the arm Eddie’s holding onto, he sees a trail of gore seeping from a cut on his wrist. Eddie was right, Jackson is hurt.
…and it isn’t healing.
Eddie rips off his shirt and wraps the torn fabric tightly around Jackson’s wrist, trying to stop the bleeding.
Jackson’s eyes slowly return to forest green, his breathing easing.
He’s lost too much blood—his head growing fuzzy, his vision clouding with dark spots.
He sways where he sits in bed, eyes fluttering as he falls into Eddie’s arms. His head lands against a strong, bare chest, a light scattering of dark hair across the otherwise smooth skin.
He takes in Eddie’s scent, that grounding aroma that manages to quell the storm in his heart.
“I’m not ready to change. Someone, please…”
“I’ve got you. Let’s get you cleaned up.” The larger man whispers in his ear, sending a ripple of unreadable emotion through him.
Eddie carries Jackson in his arms down the stairs, his eyes widening when he sees the collateral damage.
The railing cracked in half, the floor scarred by deep cuts.
The couch is torn and tattered at the back but the blades of darkness don’t seem to have reached past the living room.
He makes his way down the stairs carefully, holding Jackson tightly against his bare chest. Lying him down gently on the couch, Eddie makes his way to the kitchen for the first aid kit they keep under the sink.
Sitting Jackson up, Eddie undoes the hastily made bandage.
He tries his best to clean the wound, the sticky gore seeping out relentlessly.
Reapplying pressure to the wound, Eddie reaches for his phone to call emergency services, he can’t help Jackson on his own.
He should be healing but he wasn’t. Eddie needs a professional with more than just first aid training.
A destroyed phone is what he pulls from his pocket. Likely from the impact.
“Eddie,” he turns to face Jackson whose body sags against the end of the couch. The elven man’s eyes flutter open, mouth hardly moving as he tries to speak, voice hoarse and weak. “My room… mini fridge. Blood—for emergencies.”
Eddie’s expression darkens, recalling the state of Jackson’s room when he barged in.
In the corner there was indeed a mini fridge, now lying destroyed, the vials inside crushed by the force of the shadow blades.
Jackson needs blood, could emergency services even get here in time to help?
He can’t risk Jackson getting worse, so Eddie makes a choice he hopes Jackson will forgive.
Pulling Jackson close, angling his head into the base of his neck, guiding Jackson’s arms around his bare frame, Eddie offers himself to help Jackson. “Your mini fridge was wrecked, take what you need from me.”
Jackson would never accept this type of offer, he hated taking blood when he had to. But he’s weak, his magic failing him, body trembling from cold encroaching from his core.
And he is hungry.
Jackson bares his fangs. With as much control he can muster he pierces Eddie’s skin, slowly, in hopes to lessen the pain.
Eddie holds on tighter, a strange tingle spreading from the bite—but it isn’t pain that follows. It’s a bizarre pleasure, an odd sensation that spreads through his body as he offers himself to Jackson.
Eddie’s taste is addictive, sweet and spicy.
It enthralls Jackson’s dulled senses as he drinks in the crimson liquid spilling from Eddie’s neck, careful not to waste a single drop.
He can feel the energy returning to his body, the pain melting away with every sip.
He feels his skin stitch and fuse back together on his wrist. His heartbeat steadies as he withdraws his jaw from Eddie’s neck, tongue tracing over the puncture wounds.
Jackson threads a trace of mana through his tongue, stopping any more blood from spilling from Eddie’s neck, allowing the punctures to heal faster.
Eddie loosens his grip on Jackson, just enough for him to pull back for their eyes to meet.
Their eyes are glazed over, their breathing syncing into harsh, deep rhythms. Jackson hangs onto Eddie’s shoulders, eyes taking in the half naked man in front of him.
He realizes he’s straddling his waist, bodies clinging together. Neither of them noticed the shift.
Jackson traces his bottom lip with his tongue, then across his extended fangs to collect the lingering taste of Eddie’s blood. “Thank you, Eddie. I’m sorry if I took too much.”
Eddie’s eyes are locked with Jackson’s, hands anchoring him in his lap by holding onto Jackson’s waist. “Don’t apologize. I offered myself to you because I couldn’t bear to see you suffer a moment longer. Are you okay now?”
Jackson lowers himself down, arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck as he places his head back where it had been whilst he fed. “I am now, thanks to you.”
Eddie returns the embrace, tightening his bare arms around the small of Jackson’s back. They can feel the strong beats of each other’s hearts, the warmth of their bodies blending together. He breathes Jackson in deep, the scent of a pine forest blanketed in winter snow fills his lungs.
“I’m glad.”