It was far more painful than she ever imagined.

Rowan watched for as long as she could, eyes wide with horror as he gripped her limb firmly with his thin fingers and brought his teeth to her skin. When he bit down, she couldn’t help shutting the sight away though; it hurt too much, and he hadn’t even broken the skin yet. When she screamed in agony, it was muffled by his palm, the tears drowning the image and the sobs wracking her chest as her flesh finally gave into the pressure and tore apart under his teeth.

There was too much blood for him to drink it all, and through her blurred vision, she saw the red escape from under his lips and down her arm. Her shirt and hair began to soak it up, the rest creating a stain on the comforter beneath them. The smell made her feel ill: thick and metallic, heavy in the air, pushing down on her lungs.

He made fast work of her; she felt a particular weakness already overcoming her limbs. She tried to struggle again, but he had her held down firmly, her attempts just a waste of energy that made her heart beat faster, forcing the blood more quickly from her wound.

Maybe he would stop once he got his fill. Maybe he just needed a little, to feed the hunger that consumed him, and he would stop as soon as it was under control again. Rowan tried to comfort herself with the thought, but a part of her knew this was not just an innocent snack, and she couldn’t keep her chest from convulsing with uncontrollable sobs. He never stopped.

He’d never let anyone live.

Rowan’s screams silenced, no longer capable of drawing in enough breath passed her crying to yell. He removed the hand around her mouth as a result, using it instead to get a better hold on the limb he drained her from. With her lips free, she tried to speak to him, even though the darkness of his eyes was so deep she didn’t see Lyall anywhere in them.

“Lyall, you have to stop.”

With her free hand, she reached up and grabbed his wrist, gripping, tugging, until her arm grew too weak and her fingers fell away. “Please.” She could feel the numbness setting in. He was taking too much. “You’ll kill me,” she whispered, staring into his dark gaze, begging through her tears.

He wasn’t there, though. He was so far away. Lyall didn’t hear her, and the hunger didn’t care, closing his eyes to savor the taste as he pulled more blood from her veins.

Rowan began to shake, feeling a chill setting into her bones. She had no fight left, no chance left, no ideas left. She was going to die here. She looked away from Lyall, hoping she could forget, at least for a moment, how she was being killed. Soon enough, she would have lost so much blood that the wound wouldn’t even hurt anymore. Hopefully, she would just get too weak and tired to hold her eyes open, and she’d just fall asleep as he took the last bits of her.

She let a soft breath out, ready to go, and was surprised by a thought she had in her last moments. She hoped he wouldn’t feel too bad about what he had done to her when he finally regained control. She would hate to become a regret to him.

Rowan didn’t notice at first when Lyall removed his lips from the wound on her arm. It was only when he let go of her, putting one of his bloody hands up to his own throat, that she regained some consciousness and turned back to watch him.

He gripped at his neck like he was choking, until he fell forward onto his hands and coughed up some of the blood he drank. He pulled a few sharp breaths through his gritted teeth, stained red, then collapsed onto his side, holding his stomach and clawing at his throat and chest.

Rowan dragged her mangled limb across the bed and pulled a case off one of her pillows, using the fabric as a makeshift bandage and wrapping it tightly around her arm. The blood soaked through almost immediately despite her best efforts. She sat upright, leaning over to press her injured arm between her thighs and her stomach to make some pressure. It was all she could think to do to help slow the bleeding for now.

On the other side of the bed, Lyall tossed and writhed, overwhelmed with pain. He gripped at the comforter, pulling and scratching at his skin and hair. Eventually, another coughing fit hit him, and more of her blood came up. This seemed to settle the pain a little, long enough for him to get out a few words.

“What’s happening? It feels like my throat is raw.”

It sounded like it too. Every breath he took was ragged and broken, like his throat was seared with holes that his lungs were trying to get air passed.

Rowan was as baffled as he was, staring at him helplessly as he fended off the pain, fighting as hard as she could to not let her own aching arm get the best of her. She closed her eyes, trying to understand what was happening.

“The antiviral.”

Lyall gazed up at her. The skin around his eyes looked dark and bruised, purple veins stretching. The whites were blood-shot, but luckily, his pupils contracted back to normal.

“It was likely still in my blood. You drank so much, you must have gotten the dose you needed.”

With her words, Lyall’s gaze instantly fell, his forehead furrowing against the pain. He curled up into himself, suddenly looking so small and helpless. It took everything for Rowan to keep her distance, because he had just almost killed her, and she would have left the room entirely if she knew she wouldn’t pass out from blood loss. Yet, she still wanted to comfort him through the pain he was enduring.

After a little while, the coughing fits seemed to settle, and he was able to breathe easier. With his shoulders rising and falling slowly, his gaze staring off, unfocused and glossy, he asked on a whisper.

“Is it gone now? The virus?”

Rowan exhaled heavy, trying to shake her head but only getting dizzy when she did. “It won’t work that quickly. In a few hours, maybe.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. All this time, he fought so hard to keep the virus, and it was his own actions that lead to him losing it. The disappointment read on the creased line between his brows, but he pushed it away to glance towards Rowan, locking onto the wound she cradled. He let his head fall again, groaning with regret before twisting around to stand.

“What are you doing?” Rowan asked after watching him limp towards her dresser, opening drawers and sorting through her clothes.

“We need to get you some help, I went deep… It won’t stop bleeding on it’s own,” he replied, pulling out a pair of jeans and circling the bed to approach behind her. He helped her sit on the edge, getting down on his knees to guide her feet into the legs of the jeans.

“What about you?” she frowned at the dark, bruise-like coloring around his eyes and her blood all over his mouth. She reached out with her good arm, touching the discolored skin carefully.

He pulled himself away from her touch, wiping at the blood on the sleeve of his shirt, then looked up at her with a soft gaze. “I’ll be fine. At least, for the next few hours, according to you.” He stood, helping her to her feet. When she followed, her head swam and her vision went black. He held her up until the blood came back to her head, waiting anxiously until her unfocused sight came back. “You, on the other hand, need a hospital visit because of me.”

“No.” Rowan shook her head, blinking away the tunnel vision caused by her lightheadedness. “No hospital. They’ll know exactly who you are. And besides, we’ll never get out of here without the men outside seeing.”

Lyall objected, “I can take care of them.”

“They’ll know you’re in the city. They’ll have men all over looking for you.”

“So I’ll kill every one of them while I still can.” There was an angry note there, bitter with the impending outcome of the antiviral now in his system.

“No. I know where to go.” She used Lyall’s arm as a brace, leaning over to grab her phone from the bedside table. “First though, we have to go down and wake Cameron.”

“Damn. How long was I out?” Cameron blinked away his sleep after she gently stirred him, gathering from the darkness around them that night had creeped up during his snooze.

Rowan offered a guess. “About an hour.”

He rubbed his eyes, and once he did so, he settled to look at her, immediately frowning. “What’s wrong?” He always knew. He always saw right through her.

It was a blessing and a curse.

She looked down, nervous and ashamed. What would he think of her if she told him how easily she let Lyall back in, after she confided in him only a few hours before about how much it had hurt when he left? On top of that, how would he react to the fact that the boy who had already hurt her once by leaving, had also just almost killed her?

She gnawed at her lip, scared to say it, but knowing she had to. Time was not on her side, the wet, bloody cloth around her arm a reminder. Swallowing her nerves, Rowan sat up a little to show more of the limb she was hiding.

“Don’t panic, but… I need your help, Cam.”

His eyes widened, sitting up to take her arm into his hands. He swore repeatedly under his breath, going to unwrap the fabric on her arm, but then deciding against it when he saw the amount of blood. “Shit. Rowan, shit. What happened? We have to get you to a hospital.”

She moved to grab his arm, ready to protest, but Cameron stood too quickly for her to catch him, and once on his feet, he caught gaze with the cause of her injury. Lyall had his back leaned against the entryway to the living room, and when Cameron stopped in his tracks at the sight of him, the blue-eyed monster tilted his head.

“You,” Cameron said, a bitter note on his tongue.

He was looking at exactly what happened, seeing the blood on Lyall’s face and connecting the dots. Thanks to her, Cameron knew exactly who Lyall was upon first sight, and his opinion was already colored red, no need for the extra blood.

“Me,” Lyall replied, a simple confirmation. He didn’t say it in pride or cockiness or even sarcasm, though. Lyall knew what he had done, and he actually sounded ashamed.

Cameron gave one short nod, looking back at Rowan briefly before striding out of the room. Confused and unsure where he disappeared to, she used the coffee table to pick herself up, intending to follow. He wasn’t gone for long, though. He reentered the room only seconds later, his security guard issued pistol in hand. Before she could react, the hammer was pulled back, the barrel pressing Lyall’s jaw.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Lyall’s sarcasm was thick.

“Cam, please. Is that necessary?”

Rowan tried to reason with him, but she could tell he wasn’t even listening. Unfortunately, when it came to what Cameron thought was best, he didn’t often listen to reason, pigheaded and ready to defend her even against a greatly unmatched opponent.

Lyall was also stubborn, but unlike Cameron, he was stubborn simply for the sake. He smirked, pushing his face even harder against the gun, staring Cameron in the eye the whole time.

“Shoot me, then. If you think you can.”

She could tell it wasn’t a real threat; it was one of Lyall’s games. A dare, to play with Cameron and see how far he could push him. Cameron was not accustomed to being toyed with, though. He didn’t take kindly to it.

He grabbed Lyall by the collar of his shirt and pushed him hard against the wall, repositioning the gun on his cheek. His hands trembled, and Lyall’s eyes, even though they were tired and bloodshot and rimmed with purple, danced with laughter.

Rowan moved over to them as quickly as she could, putting her hand on Cameron’s arm. He was reluctant, but eventually gave in and looked at her.

“We’ll need his help,” she said, showing him her seriousness with a pointed, no words needed look, knowing he would understand because he always did.

He scowled, then turned back to Lyall, and shoved him hard against the wall one more time for good measure before removing his gun from the monster’s face. Rowan offered an appreciative smile, turning back to sit down on the couch with Cameron following.

“You would have been doing him a favor shooting him anyway,” she added sourly after a moment, glancing over her shoulder to confirm her suspicions. Lyall smirked as he rubbed at his cheek, caught red-handed in his little game.

“Why, got cancer or something, alien boy?” Cameron asked, even though he seemed uninterested in the answer.

Lyall’s lip curled. “Worse. In a few hours, I’ll be a completely healthy human being.”

“The horror,” Cameron said dull, and in response Rowan caught Lyall’s grin grow a fraction wider. “Why do we need this freak again?”

“Because, if I can get a hold of the person I need to talk to, we’re going to need someone to take care of our friends outside,” she explained, pulling out her phone and searching through her contact list.

“Shouldn’t we be getting you to a hospital? Who are you calling?”

She selected the number and held the phone up to her ear. “Phelps.”