“Alfred?”
“Oh, Mr. Morgan, I am so glad I found you,” Alfred said, uttering words Devlin never thought to hear come out of the man’s mouth. A look of great relief filtered across Alfred’s face.
“What’s wrong, Alfred?” Devlin asked, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He remembered that someone poisoned his mate the last time he saw him. Fear filled him. “Has something happened to Zacarius?”
Alfred actually grimaced, his hands twisting together nervously. “He’d kill me for sure if he knew I came here, sir, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”
Devlin grabbed Alfred by the arms and gave him a little shake. “Alfred, what the hell is going on? Where’s Zacarius?”
“He’s in the car,” Alfred said as he glanced over his shoulder to the dark-colored SUV sitting on the street behind him. He looked back at Devlin, his face stricken. “I think he’s dying, sir.”
Devlin almost tossed Alfred aside in his haste to get to Zacarius. He ran across yard and ripped the door open only to cry out at the sight before him. Zacarius sat in the back of the car, if Devlin could call the sickly creature in the car his mate.
Zacarius’s eyes sank in his head so much that his eyes seemed huge on his face. His face was angled by bones and white skin. He seemed to have lost a good twenty or thirty pounds. His skin practically hung on his body.
He looked so fragile, Devlin was almost afraid to pick him up. Instead, he crawled in beside him, cradling Zacarius’s limp form to his. He smoothed dry, bland hair back from his face, saddened at the loss of Zacarius’s luxurious locks.
“Zac, honey,” Devlin whispered. He didn’t receive a response, not even a flicker of an eyelid. “Come on, baby, open your eyes for me.” There was still no response.
Deciding that he needed to get Zacarius into the house, Devlin picked his mate up in his arms, wincing when he hardly weighed a thing. He scooted to the door where Alfred, Reece, and Keeley hovered and slid out.
Devlin hurried into the house, heading straight for his room. He shared the house with Reece and Keeley like he did before they moved to Wolf Creek. His room was located on one side of the house, Reece and Keeley’s on the other.
“Keeley, can you pull the covers back?” Devlin asked the moment he stepped into the room.
Keeley rushed forward and pulled the blankets back. Devlin stepped forward and laid Zacarius down on the bed. He sat down beside him, his hands exploring, searching out every last inch of Zacarius’s body for injuries.
Except for extreme weight loss and white pasty skin, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with Zacarius. He just wouldn’t wake up.
“What happened, Alfred?” Devlin asked, his hands still skimming Zacarius’s body. “Did someone poison him again?”
“Again?” Alfred squeaked. “Someone poisoned him before? When?”
Devlin looked over at Alfred, flushing. “Yeah, remember those couple of days we stayed in Zacarius’s room? You came in complaining of rumors? Someone poisoned Zacarius’s wine.”
“He never told me.”
Devlin shook his head. “He didn’t want anyone to know. He said it made him vulnerable.”
“He’s right,” Alfred agreed. “At the first sign of weakness, his enemies would attack.”
“What enemies?” Devlin growled. “
Did
someone poison him again?”
“I don’t know,” Alfred said. “He’s been disheartened since you left, but about a week ago I noticed he started looking extremely pale. I offered to bring him a blood donor, but he’d have none of it. He got very angry with me when I insisted.”
Devlin froze as previous conversations with Zacarius filtered into his brain. He suddenly realized that Zacarius could very well be in his current condition because of him. Zacarius said that once a vampire mated, he couldn’t draw blood from anyone except his mate. Devlin was that mate, and he left.
“Everyone, get out,” Devlin grumbled. “I need a few minutes alone with Zacarius.”
“Are you sure, Dev?” Keeley asked.
“Yeah, Keeley,” Devlin replied. “I’d appreciate it if you would make him some warm soup and tea, though. And Reece? You might want to inform Daniel that two vampires will be staying here for now. He’s sure to want to know.”
“And then some.”
Devlin grimaced. He was bringing a lot down on Daniel’s head. He hoped the alpha would understand Devlin’s mate was involved, and he didn’t have a choice.
“Alfred,” Devlin said, using his authoritarian voice, “go with Keeley and prepare some food for your prince. I’m sure he will be hungry when he wakes up.”
Alfred nodded and hurried after Keeley. Devlin knew the manservant needed something to do. He seemed beside himself with worry. Devlin was too. He only had an inkling of what might be wrong with Zacarius. He could be wrong, but he didn’t think so.
The moment the bedroom door shut, Devlin turned back to Zacarius. He was still out cold. Devlin carefully pulled Zacarius’s clothes off, folding them and setting them on a nearby chair. He walked back to the bed, pulling the covers over his mate.
Devlin stroked Zacarius’s face. “Oh, Zac, what are we doing to each other?”
Zacarius moved. Devlin’s breath froze in his throat. “Zac? Honey?”
Zacarius’s turned in his direction. His eyes fluttered then finally opened. They seemed dazed, unfocused. As they began to clear, a smile worked its way across Zacarius’s face.
“Dev, my Dev,” Zacarius whispered, reaching a trembling hand out to Devlin. Devlin froze, unsure if he should take it or not. When he made no move to take it, the hand fell limply back to the bed. A single blood red tear fell down Zacarius’s cheek as he turned his head away.
Devlin, suddenly feeling like a fool for his resistance to his mate, moved closer to Zacarius. “Zac, honey,” he said softly, “look at me.”
Zacarius didn’t give any sign that he heard Devlin. “Zacarius, this is ridiculous. You obviously need to feed. I’m right here.”
Zacarius shook his head. He still wouldn’t look at him. Devlin stuck his arm out and held it under Zacarius’s nose. The only sign Zacarius gave was pressing his lips together and turning his nose up.
“Damn it, Zacarius,” Devin snapped. “Stop playing the martyr.”
When Zacarius wouldn’t take blood from him, Devlin grabbed a knife and sliced a cut in his wrist. He held his wrist over Zacarius’s mouth, watching as his blood dropped onto the man’s lips.
Zacarius didn’t react at first, the blood dripping down his chin. Then suddenly he turned and bit into Devlin’s wrist. Devlin cried out at the ferocity of the bite. A feral look came into Zacarius’s eyes as he began sucking the life essence from him.
When Devlin began to feel lightheaded, he tried to pull his arm free, but Zacarius wouldn’t let him go. He growled, holding on tighter, sucking harder. Devlin could feel himself start to weaken. He yanked again.
“Zac—Zacarius,” Devlin cried in desperation, “honey, you have to let go.”
Devlin finally pressed his hand against Zacarius’s head and pushed to get the prince to release him. He jumped up and wrapped his other hand around his still bleeding wrist, cursing silently at himself. He walked to the bathroom to clean and treat his wound.
He stuck his hand under a stream of cold water then wiped away the last trickle of blood. As he wrapped gauze around his wrist, he realized he liked the idea of providing for his mate on such a basic level. It made him feel needed in a way that he never did before.
Devlin rested his hands on the sides of the pedestal sink as he gazed at himself in the mirror. Could he be honest enough with himself to know that Zacarius’s lying paled in comparison to not having his mate? Could he take that chance?
He wasn’t sure, but he needed to try. He couldn’t just leave things the way they were. Someone was still after Zacarius and Devlin couldn’t let anything happen to his mate, even by his own hand.
When he walked back into the bedroom, Zacarius leaned back against the pillows. His color remained pale but not deathly white. The hard angles on his face softened just a bit and he had just a little more of a healthy glow to him.
Devlin sat down on the side of the bed and waited. He was determined to discover why Zacarius had been in such bad condition, why he hadn’t come before now. Devlin might be angry with him, but they were still mates.
* * * *
“You should have let me die,” Zacarius murmured without looking in Devlin’s direction. He could feel his mate staring.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Devlin replied. “I’m not going to let you die.”
“Why not?” Zacarius snorted. “It would have been kinder.”
“Zac—”
Zacarius turned to glare at Devlin, his narrowing. “Do you think I want to come to you every few days and beg for the rest of my life? I’d rather be dead.”
“You really can’t drink from anyone else now that we’re mated?” Devlin sounded surprised. He probably thought Zacarius lied about that, too.
“No!” Zacarius shouted, angered. Devlin wasn’t the only one that felt betrayed. They were supposed to be mates, to take care of each other above everything else. Devlin didn’t seem to care.
“Puts you in quite the pickle, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck you, Devlin.” Zacarius couldn’t believe that Devlin took his life so lightly, but he guessed that showed him how his mate felt about him. Devlin didn’t care. Zacarius knew he would never have the mate he wanted, the mate he dreamed of for five hundred years.
“I’m just saying, Zac, you can either swallow your pride or shrivel up and die.”
“I’ll shrivel up and die, thank you very much.” He would never beg for something from his mate that wasn’t freely given. He
would
rather die.
“Do you hate me that much?” Devlin whispered.
“No, I don’t hate you,” Zacarius replied softly, suddenly feeling very sad and resigned to the loss of his mate, “quite the opposite in fact. That still doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t choose me to be your mate.”
“Of course not. Fate chooses our mates.”
Zacarius waved his hand at Devlin. “You know what I mean, Devlin. You didn’t choose me to be your mate. You don’t want me to be your mate.” Zacarius snorted. “You made that more than clear.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to be my mate. It’s just that—you lied to me, Zacarius.”
Zacarius stared up at the ceiling. He thought over this again and again in his head. He lied to Devlin any way he looked at it. There wasn’t even any wiggle room to try and pretend he hadn’t. “I know,” he whispered.
There wasn’t anything left to say. He lied to his mate and now his mate would never forgive him. He could spend the rest of his life hoping Devlin might forgive him one day, begging for his attention and his life giving blood. Or he could choose not to.
The choice seemed rather simple to Zacarius. He knew he couldn’t live without Devlin and not just because he needed his mate’s blood. He needed his mate’s love and affection too, and those seemed forever lost to him.
“I’m really tired,” Zacarius whispered, the fight going out of him. “I’d like to sleep now.”
“Do you need anything?” Devlin asked.
Zacarius wanted to pretend he heard concern in Devlin’s voice, but he knew he’d be lying to himself. And lying got him into this position in the first place. It was better to accept that Devlin was just being kind, as he would be with anyone.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
Zacarius waited until Devlin left the room and shut the door behind him before reaching for his clothes. As weak as he still felt, it took him more than a few minutes to get dressed. He piled some pillows under the blankets then made his way to the double doors leading outside.
He cast one last look over the room he shared with Devlin for such a small amount of time then turned and walked out. He didn’t know where he headed, just as long as it was away from here and the one person he wanted above all else and could never have.
Chapter 6
“How is he, sir?”
Devlin smiled. “He’ll be fine, Alfred. He just needs a little more blood.”
“You got him to drink?” Alfred asked, quickly scanning Devlin’s body until his eyes landed on his wrist. He grimaced at the white gauze covering Devlin’s wrist.
“It’s okay, Alfred,” Devlin said. “I got him to drink enough that his color is better and he doesn’t look quite so gaunt. He’s going to be fine.”
“Do you know what happened to him, sir?” Alfred asked. “Did someone poison him again?”
Devlin shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so, Alfred.”
“Then why was he so sick?”
Devlin frowned, glancing down at his hands. Anyway he stated it, even in his own head he looked like a jackass. Zacarius explained about mating and blood drinking to him. He knew before he left that Zacarius would be in danger. He’d left anyway.
Zacarius’s current condition was his fault. No wonder the man wanted nothing to do with him. He wouldn’t if he were in the same position. Lying seemed small in comparison.
“Sir?”
“He just needed some blood, Alfred.”
“But I tried to get him a donor, sir,” Alfred said. “He got so angry with me. Tossed me right out of his suite and refused to open the door for anyone.”
“Yeah, about that,” Devlin hedged. He dipped his head for a moment then looked up at Alfred, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m the only one that can give him blood now.”