bite.

Chapter 2b

A/N - this is an additional chapter as part of the edit

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Michael's steely eyes paled as he press his firmly over the bullet hole. I made the mistake of looking down at his hand and seeing the blood, my blood, seeping from between his fingers.

"Don't look at it," he ordered.

I lifted my eyes up to his and saw the panic cracking through his stony expression. Blood was haemorrhaging everywhere and he couldn't control it. He pulled me closer to his chest and looked straight into a dark alleyway.

"What should I do?" He yelled.

"Is she one of them?" A nervous voice of a man called back.

"No, she isn't one of them. She's Francesca's daughter."

"Ah, shit! What have you done, Grayson!"

Two men came running out alleyway towards us. One of them was holding a revolver in his hand with a laser sight and silencer attached to it. When he saw me, he raised his hands in the air defensively and said, "I'm sorry, Mikey. I thought she was one of them."

"Does she look like one of them, Grayson?" Michael snapped.

"Shit, Mikey. I made a bad call."

"You fucking shot her."

"I know, but she moved so fast, I just thought..."

"She was scared, Grayson."

Grayson looked down at me, his eyes full of remorse.

"I just wanted to go home," I shivered.

Grayson put his gun away and dropped down next to me.

"There has to be something you can do. She's just a kid," he asked.

"There is nothing I can do. Those bullets are meant to kill vampires," Michael replied.

"Well, couldn't you give her your blood? It's supposed to heal any wound, according to your file."

"There are limitations to my blood."

"We can't let her die, Mikey!"

"I would need to give her a significant amount of blood. The kind of amount that would trigger an irreversible binding."

"If it saves her, then who cares?"

"You don't understand. What you are asking me to do is forbidden."

"What if I order you to do it?"

"Grayson, I don't think you understand what it would mean for her, and for me!"

"Mikey, as your superior, I am ordering you to save her life with your blood."

"Fine," Michael hissed, "But I want it put on record that I objected to this."

Michael gazed down at me and said carefully, "You will need to drink my blood to live. My blood is special and it will heal you fully."

He bit into his wrist and pressed the open wound against my lips. Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and let the warm hot blood drop down onto my tongue. It tasted strange, but not unpleasant.

I took a gulp and tried pushing his arm away.

"No, you need to drink more," he whispered, holding me closer.

I took another mouthful of blood and felt the heat sliding down my throat. Warmth spread through my chest and I started to feel better.

Michael pulled his wrist away from me and the pain in my chest faded.