Jacob’s boneless slide to the bloody floor sent the chill of death down Azrael’s spine. The werewolf barely managed to catch himself on the back of the couch, saving himself from hitting his head on the floor. His fingers couldn’t keep the hold and he slid the rest of the way in a hunched position. There was a grimace of pain on his face, his fingers pressing against the wound Alexandre had created with the knife.

Azrael scrambled across the floor, his limbs struggling to move correctly as he tried to make it to Jacob. Blood pooled around the werewolf in a crimson puddle, the sight of which made Azrael’s stomach twist. Jacob was still awake, but he looked like he was barely clinging on to consciousness. A layer of sweat coated his forehead and his breathing was harsh. His fingers were no longer holding the wound, instead they hung loose at his side as the life poured out of him.

“Oh shit, shit, shit,” Azrael swore as he tried to hold his hand to the wound and keep the blood from flowing out.

Jacob tried to smile. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“You’re dying, you’re not okay. Why the hell won’t you stop bleeding?” Azrael demanded as he fought to figure out what to do.

“Silver— can’t heal—heal it,” Jacob said between ragged breaths.

“Stop talking, conserve your energy,” Azrael told him.

If Jacob was a vampire, he could just give him some blood and he would recover. Vampires could survive just about anything, and recovery from a crippling wound was as simple as an infusion of fresh blood. Jacob wasn’t a vampire, though, and Azrael didn’t know what he could give the man to help. His friend, his lover, was bleeding out on the floor right in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Please tell me there’s something your people can do to make you heal from silver wounds,” Azrael pleaded.

Jacob shook his head with a weak chuckle. “I’m shit out of luck.”

“Quit saying that,” Azrael barked.

“Azrael,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

Dread and fear filled him as he recognized Seamus’ voice. He didn’t want to take his eyes off Jacob for a moment, but he turned to look at Seamus. The vampire was standing in the center of the living room, eyes shifting from Azrael then over to Alexandre. It was impossible to read the emotion in Seamus’ face, but Azrael was praying Seamus wasn’t here to finish the job that Merrick, Alexia, and Alexandre had started.

“Seamus,” Azrael whispered, begging the man with his eyes.

Seamus eyed Jacob with an air of distaste. “So it’s true, you really have been shacking up with a werewolf. I didn’t want to believe it, even when Alexia swore she spoke the truth to Merrick and Alexandre. All the stupid and foolish things you did, but I didn’t think you would go so far as to throw it all away for some random mutt.”

“He’s not some random mutt, dammit, he’s my best friend,” Azrael told him, his voice cracking as Jacob’s breathing grew steadily worse.

“We were supposed to be your family, Azrael. Alexandre was your sire, your master,” Seamus said stiffly.

“Fuck that, all we were to him was a source of entertainment. He didn’t even like most of you, found you all boring, he told me himself before he tried to kill us. The only reason he turned me was because he thought I was interesting, how fucked up is that? And he tried to kill me, for what? Because the only person I’ve ever trusted in my life, the man I loved as a part of me, came back into my life and I wanted him there?” Azrael demanded, growing angry alongside his fear.

“He’s not that man anymore, not when you found out what he was,” Seamus said hotly.

Azrael snarled. “He’s treated me better since finding out what I was than anyone else in my so called ‘family’ ever did. It wouldn’t matter how long I was in this stupid Camarilla, none of you would have accepted me.”

“I did,” Seamus told him softly.

Azrael reached out, clasping Jacob’s hand within his own, his fear rising when he realized Jacob was colder than he was. The life was draining too fast from Jacob and he was preoccupied arguing with Seamus. Yes, he knew Seamus had always treated him well, and had always tried to help him. It wasn’t always the help Azrael wanted, or perhaps needed, but it was an attempt to help anyway.

“Maybe you’re the only one who really gave a shit about me. Alexandre only had me around because he thought I would make the next several hundred years interesting for him. Everyone else could barely stand having me around but you, you were good to me. So please, don’t ruin that by taking the last moments I’m going to have to…” Azrael couldn’t finish, looking at Jacob fearfully.

Jacob’s fingers stirred as he tried to hold his smile. “This is okay.”

“It’s not,” Azrael croaked.

Jacob rallied himself, eyes opening a little wider. “It is. I don’t even care that I failed in my duty. I did even better by keeping you alive. I found you all over again and got to have the best couple of weeks of my life. Now you’re alive, and you’re free.”

There was no time to tell Jacob that wasn’t enough. He’d been free before, when Jacob had moved away when they were boys. Everything Azrael had done from that point had been created by one destructive decision after another. His life as a vampire had been endless nights of the same repetitive existence. For all the life and color of the city at night, none of it seemed to penetrate Azrael’s life. He hadn’t realized how bleak his life had been until he held Jacob’s weakening fingers in his hand.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” Azrael admitted.

“You’re tough as hell, you can do it,” Jacob said softly.

Seamus drew closer, moving carefully. “You really care for him, don’t you?”

Azrael glared at him. “No, he’s just dying and I’m putting on a show for your benefit. He was my best friend when we were kids, and now he’s even more than that to me. I would die for him.”

Seamus’ face clouded over. “You could just walk away. With everyone else dead, you don’t have to run anymore. Stay here, with me, and we can both forget any of this ever happened.”

“I’m not living my life the way everyone else thinks I should. I’m not going to just pretend that—that Jacob didn’t exist. Just go away, Seamus,” Azrael snapped, turning from his friend.

Seamus took a deep breath before speaking. “Then turn him.”

Azrael froze. “What?”

“If you really would choose him above anything else we could offer you, turn him, into one of us,” Seamus said softly.

Jacob’s eyes opened a little more. “My blood will kill him.”

Azrael shouldn’t have been surprised that Jacob knew how the process of turning a human went, but he was. There were plenty of rumors and old wives tales about how vampires came to be and what could be done against them. Most of the stories were just that, stories, and vampires preferred to keep it that way in case they needed the upper hand. A few humans figured out the process of turning a human into a vampire, at some point. It wasn’t through a bite, or a series of bites, all it took was for the vampire in question to drain the human until the point of near death, and then have the human drink from their vampiric veins. Azrael didn’t remember the sensation in the slightest, but he’d heard it was generally a memorable experience most vampires remembered even after centuries of living.

Seamus snorted. “You’re already dying wolf. You’re bleeding all over his floor. He doesn’t have to drink your blood for it to work, you just have to drink his.”

Azrael shook his head. “We don’t even know if that would work. If his blood would kill me, who knows what my blood will do to him?”

“Why do you think Alexandre was so furious about finding out what you were really doing with this wolf? He’d had a child in the past do the same thing, though I don’t think it was a childhood friend. He slew both of them, but not before his child had made a vampire out of the werewolf. In a weakened state, the werewolf body can’t fight off the vampiric blood. Our blood takes over and washes away everything they were before and turns them into one of us, just the same as it does with humans,” Seamus explained.

Azrael looked at Jacob, conflicted. “I don’t want to do that to you. I don’t want to force this on you.”

“Is it forcing if he can still say yes?” Seamus asked.

Azrael growled. “I bet Alexandre said the same thing when he found me dying in an alley. A person at the brink of death, watching the possibility of their life slip away will say just about anything to get it back. I’m not going to coerce Jacob into changing everything he is to become one of us, Seamus.”

“Then he dies,” Seamus said simply.

Jacob stirred. “Look at me.”

Azrael did, still shaking his head. “I’m not doing that to you Jacob.”

“Is it so terrible?” Jacob asked weakly.

Azrael thought of the lonely nights, locked away from the sun for eternity. The feeling of being around humans but never truly being a part of them. The hunger that gnawed at him eternally, always seeking its next meal, no matter how much he’d fed before. There was great strength and speed, his senses were above a human’s, and he would live to see the course of history. Everything around him would move forward but he would be locked in time. There had been such a sense of helplessness as he watched the world, not sure how he could keep going for eternity.

Then Jacob had come into his life and given him something to strive for, something to hope for. He’d had no idea how he was going to survive the inevitable day when Jacob would die from his own mortality, but he’d wanted the time with the man all the same. His nights had stopped being the same gray monotony he’d been afraid would last forever. Only a couple of weeks with Jacob had reawakened a zest for life within him, a need to go out and experience the world. He’d so hoped he would be able to walk the world with Jacob by his side.

“With you there? It wouldn’t have been terrible at all,” Azrael said softly.

“I could be,” Jacob whispered.

Azrael sagged. “And if you regret it?”

“Then we deal with it,” Jacob said, his lips attempting to smile and failing.

Azrael smiled. “One problem at a time, huh?”

Jacob didn’t answer, but his head nodded slightly. The last of his breaths were coming quickly, and Azrael knew he didn’t have much time. He hadn’t wanted this for Jacob, hadn’t even thought of offering it to him before. If Jacob hadn’t been awake to give his answer, Azrael wouldn’t have dared to try to change him. He prayed, for the first time in his life, that their decision was the right one, and they weren’t setting themselves up for disaster further down the road.

Making up his mind, he plucked the bloodied blade up from the ground beside him. After making sure it was clean of any of Jacob’s blood, he drew it across the flesh of his wrist. When the wound pressed to Jacob’s mouth, nothing happened at first. Azrael’s fear spiked to newfound levels before he felt Jacob’s lips move ever so gently against his skin. He almost yanked his arm away when Jacob’s body jerked as if electrocuted. The man’s mouth closed over his wrist with a strength he shouldn’t have had, holding tight with one hand and drinking greedily.

Fire burned from Azrael’s self-inflicted wound, the pain lancing up his arm as if following the path of his veins. His heart began to pound, as if the organ had come to life once more only because it knew Azrael’s life was in danger. There was no pleasure, like there would be if a vampire had been feeding from him, only the growing burning sensation filling him. His whole body felt as if it were alive with the pain, and his skin pulsed with every desperate beat of his heart.

“That’s enough,” Seamus said hastily.

Azrael managed to pull his arm free from Jacob’s desperate grasp, barely having the strength to do so. The power he’d gained from drinking from Alexandre was only just enough to save him as weakness settled into his limbs. He sagged backwards, unable to keep himself upright as fatigue took over his body.

Jacob was twitching on the floor, beginning to thrash as he heaved for breath. Soft growls began to emanate from the man’s lips, his eyes pinched shut. His limbs bent, his muscles working constantly, and it looked as if he were fighting an inner, silent battle. Azrael couldn’t tell if Jacob was in pain or if it was simply the effects of the blood pumping through him.

“Jacob?” Azrael asked hoarsely, his fear growing once more.

A hand lay on his shoulder, with Seamus’ voice above him. “Stay still. You gave him a great deal of your blood and have weakened yourself. Let it run its course.”

Azrael watched in fearful fascination as Jacob turned and rolled, his skin sliding over the blood on the ground. His body gave another hard twist before he grew completely still. His chest did not rise, and his fingers were no longer moving. Azrael could no longer hear his heart beating, and a low moan rose from his chest. He had killed Jacob with his blood, giving the warrior a painful and slower death than if he’d just let him slip quietly into the void.

Jacob’s eyes flashed open, the brilliant color falling on Azrael’s face immediately. There was a look of confusion, then wonder, on Jacob’s handsome face. Then his arm twitched, his fingers curling into fists. His legs slid along the wet floor, trying to slowly find purchase to help him stand up.

Azrael watched, hope catching in his throat as the man stood, towering over both Azrael and Seamus. Jacob looked down at himself, nose wrinkling at the sight of his own blood smeared all over him. His fingers ran over the place where the knife wound had been just moments before, and Azrael realized it was completely gone.

“Wow,” Jacob whispered, looking around him with wide eyes.

The resonance in Jacob’s voice made Azrael smile, the last sign he needed to know they were okay.