Lips to Lips [manxman]

Chapter One

Quiet.

There was something about the earliest hours of the morning when the world went black and the humans fell into the deepest slumber that made the world appear more peaceful than it was. Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the living room in silver, ethereal hues. Moments like those, however brief they might have been, were the events I lived for now. Before, when my life had been loud, bloody, and violent, I'd craved the silence of the night.

Once I finally had it, I felt reluctant to relinquish it, but I didn't get much of a choice.

It neared 3 o'clock in the morning when the tranquility shattered. I'd been sitting on the sofa, a glass of wine in one hand with a book in the other when a large thump drew my attention toward the front door. Visitors weren't an option, not at that time of night. If it was a visitor, I had to assume it was not a friendly one.

Wetting my lips, I rose from the chair and made my way to the window to peek through the sheer blue curtains. What appeared to be a man sat slumped against my front door, blood pooling around his body, staining the cement stoop. Right about that time, I smelled it. Sharp and full—it was a Hunter's blood. It wasn't as savory as a human's, but it also wasn't as nearly as sickly sweet as a vampire's. Moving from the window, I went to the door and opened it a sliver so he wouldn't fall over.

"Can you stand?" I asked, watching him through the crack.

He grunted, shifting up and away from the door, but never getting to his feet. Opening the door wider, I shuffled outside, through the puddle of blood he'd left, and got a better look at the front of him. The black ensemble and Conclave insignia made it clear he was not only a Hunter, but a Hunter on duty.

The blood soaking the front of his clothes made my stomach churn. My throat burned. Despite the concern I held for the man on my porch, I couldn't ignore the hot, full scent of the blood that'd spilled... There was a sweet smell too. Perhaps not all of the blood was his. Some of it likely belonged to whatever vampire he'd gotten into a squabble with.

And then, when I looked at the man's face, that pinprick of thirst that'd seized my throat vanished.

"Rory?" His olive complexion was washed out, and his steely eyes had gone vacant. I wrapped one arm under his shoulder and used the other to support his back as I hauled him to his feet. "Come on, I'm taking you inside." He was heavy, but I managed to get him through the living room, down the hallway, and into my bedroom.

I laid him on the bed. "I'm going to take off your shirt so I can get a look at your injuries, okay?"

He blinked, but didn't say a word.

Gritting my teeth, I worked my fingers down the buttons of his shirt and pushed it back, exposing his chest. He'd been stabbed in the shoulder. There were claw marks all down his neck, and a few burns marred his chest. God, he looked awful.

"Hold on, I have something that should help." Hurrying back through the house, I went to the kitchen to grab a sedative. The only thing I knew that'd get him back to full capacity was something that he couldn't be awake to see, because I sure as hell wasn't prepared to come clean about my dirty little secret. Not when I'd kept it hidden so well for so many decades.

Sedative in hand, I returned to Rory's side. "I'm going to give you this medicine. When you wake up, you'll still be sore, but you'll be okay."

His eyes were hazy and unfocused. I'd be surprised if he even knew he was in my home with me at his side. Opening the bottle, I positioned the mouth of it at his lips and poured in just a bit, just enough to put him into a light sleep. Waiting for the medicine to take over, I closed the bottle and put it in my back pocket so I wouldn't forget to put it away, lest Rory found out that I'd put him to sleep instead of him passing out.