✔Kin of the Curse (Book 1: Bloodbound Chronicles)

33. Saving a Dying Light

Castor swore an angel had swept him away from those esurient rotters gnawing at his flesh like he was a fresh buffet.

Bite marks marred his arms and legs, and one particular freaky one got him just below his left nipple. Most concerning, however, was the black veins protruding from his muscles. His breaths came out in ragged spurts, his eyes barely forced open by some sheer force of nature as the world hazed around him like a watercolor painting.

"Stay awake for me, Castor." That voice did not belong to an angel. Despite how his battered body ached and desperately wanted to give up, he craned his neck slightly with a low groan to glimpse Sebastian's familiar features. Slanted, blood red eyes. Hair as dark as the midnight sky, much similar to his own.

It had to be a surreal dream. Perhaps his consciousness needed him to believe he was really being saved by a dear friend while the rotters feasted on his innards. Castor almost wished he'd died upon impact when Rishon flung him outside because Lucien's harrowing scream still haunted him, ringing in his ears even as he was carried off.

Agony clawed at his heart, and Castor wondered helplessly if the feeling was him experiencing the rotters munching away on his own ticker. Death was nothing like he'd expected. Part of him wished it would hurry up and end because he wasn't sure how much longer he could suffer through the death curse siphoning his strength and poisoning his veins. But the other half of him wanted to fight.

Lucien needed him. His desperate scream roared in his ears like the waves of the sea during a storm, pounding in sync to his own slowing heartbeat. It was like he was trying to summon him, and Castor ached to not be able to answer his call.

"I'm sorry." Castor rasped as the lids of his eyes fluttered. Bright lights blinded him, and his panicked breaths morphed into shallow breaths. Yet his body fought to hold on. Something deep within him begging to wait just a little long, as if by some miracle the Gods weren't reluctant to claim his soul.

"Castor!" Sebastian cried out his name with as much raw pain and agony that had echoed in Lucien's desperate scream. He called his name out again and again, pleading and praying for him to wait just a bit longer.

Not long after they'd met, Castor remembered how Sebastian had told him he'd given up on the Gods after they let his wife perish. It burned Castor to think of Sebastian's prayers going unheard again as tears rolled down his bruised cheeks.

Sharp pain lanced through his neck, and Castor's world faded to an abyss of black.

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The Gods had forsaken Sebastian many years ago, but he asked a favor of them once more. Don't take Castor away from him. He was too selfish to let him go. He'd been alone for far too long, and he refused to let go of his best friend. When the wizards deemed him a wicked devil and blood-thirsty beast, Castor ignored their prejudices and accepted him for who he was.

Despite how many times Sebastian had administered an IV with a steady hand, he trembled as he jabbed the needle into his own arm. A sharp sting pierced his skin, and he felt that familiar tug of his own blood leaving his body as the clear, plastic tube twisted down to a blood bag suspended on a metal rack beside them.

Watching his own dark-tinted blood flow into the bag was unnerving. Sebastian tried not to think much about it as he brushed out fallen leaves that had tangled up in Castor's hair. He tenderly touched his damp cheek, throat tightening at the sorrow painfully squeezing his own heart. "I won't let you die on me, Castor."

Sebastian sunk his fangs deep into Castor's neck, until his warm blood filled his mouth with a delightful tang. It was nothing like the addictive flavor of Lucien's, and far more pleasant than any he kept preserved in his clinic. His blood flowed deliciously down Sebastian's throat like molasses.

Drinking blood straight from the source was such an intimate act, not only because of the vulnerability of both participants, but because they were sharing a part of their body with them. Sebastian had heard stories of how vampires soulbonded to someone could see their most cherished and happiest memories, yet he'd never shared such a tender experience with his wife.

If they lost their soulbond, they would descend into a dark depression that many never could claw their way out of. Sebastian had witnessed it a few times overseas. None had ever recovered from the loss. So as Castor's childhood spent with Lucien played through his mind like memories of his own, he vowed to do everything within his powers to keep him alive.

Just the taste of his blood had Sebastian's worries floating away like forgotten dreams. There was only one other time he had fed directly off of Castor, and it was after that wretched vampire lady from overseas had nearly drained him dry. By some miracle, he'd gotten to him in time and kept his body alive with the venom from his fangs. Much like he had just done. Castor's heartbeat echoed in his ears, although faint, it signaled he was still alive.

Sebastian trailed his fingers up Castor's pale, muscular arm. Bite marks faded to mere scars on his skin as he found a vein with ease to insert the needle. Each pound of his heartbeat reverberated like the rhythmic beat of drums as his blood flowed freely into Castor's body to fill the loss.

As the transfusion continued, Sebastian closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of Castor's shallow breaths and slow-beating heart. When he reopened his eyes, he shot up to Castor as his blood streamed down his nostrils and pooled beneath his white bedsheets from his slightly pointed tipped ears. Sebastian yanked out some black towels from his bedside table to gently dab the old blood away, realizing his body was taking far more of his and needed to expel the rest of his human blood.

Sebastian kneeled beside Castor, his lips accidentally brushing against the new tender area of his ear as he sank his fangs back into his neck. A low groan rumbled in Castor's throat below him, but he had made no indication of consciousness yet. He couldn't remember how long it had taken during his own transformation all those years ago, but he knew everyone's bodies reacted differently. All he could do was hope Castor would turn with ease.