Page 79 of Havenfall Harbor
“Shit,” he curses.
“She’s probably eating breakfast, she gets up early.” My words come out as if I’m offended on a personal level.
“Well, let’s go get her then.” Griff jerks his door open and stalks out into the hallway. His head tips back and he inhales deeply. When he lowers his chin, his eyes are damn near pinpricks, the freaky blue is so bright it looks like they’re glowing.
His head turns to the side, examining Quinn’s door. Her bag is on the floor, tucked into the corner. “Should have given her the key last night,” I comment.
Griffin resumes his prowl down the hall with me by his side, neither of us even bothered with shoes. “She shouldn’t have left. We should have woken up.”
“Don’t be pissy when we find her,” I warn.
“I’m not pissy,” Griff snarls as we bounce down the stairs, hitting the main floor quickly.
“Ah, yeah, you are. She’s not going to understand why you’re freaking out, so rein it in, Griff.” A little irritation seeps into my tone as we turn down the hall that would take us to the dining room. I stop mid-step. This entire time I’ve been following Quinn’s scent. It wasn’t even a conscious decision, but as we turn the corner, I realize her trail is no longer fresh. She didn’t come this way. “Wait.” I grip Griff’s shoulder to stop him. “Not that way.” I shake my head, certain Quinn didn’t go to the cafeteria.
“Where?” Griffin demands.
I head in the opposite direction, confused why she would go this way. I end up in a near jog as we head farther away from the common areas until we’re all the way at the back of the building. When an exit door looms before me, I pause. “She must have gone outside. Don’t be a dick.”
Griff hits the door with his shoulder as he turns the knob. I end up slamming into his back when he comes to a dead stop, the doorknob still in his hand. “Blood.” He says the word so low, I think I didn’t hear him right. Before I can ask, Griff is gone, moving much faster than even I can track.
That’s when it hits me. Quinn’s scent, strong and coppery, floats by as if carried on a breeze. There’s no time to think or wonder, I burst into action, and my hands grow heavy as a partial shift overtakes me from the perceived threat.
Caught somewhere between man and beast, I bound forward, half running, half clawing my way to get to her. Just short of the balcony, I find Griffin crouched on the ground, his back to me. It takes my mind a moment to process the rest of the scene.
Quinn’s lying on the concrete, with a halo of blood around her head which is now cradled over Griffin’s arm, and the ends of her light hair are stained red.
I take note of the black pants she went to bed in, one shoe is on her foot while the other is bare, her painted toes as perfect as they were when I last spied them.
With lumbering steps, I move closer, afraid of what I might find. “You can’t move her.” The voice is mine, yet not. Griff curls his back over her more, and when I finally step around him, I get the full picture.
Quinn is embraced in Griffin’s arms. If it wasn’t for the blood in her hair and the crimson liquid oozing from the side of her head, she would look like she was sleeping. Her eyes are closed, her lips just barely parted. I drop to my knees, already reaching for her.
I can hear her heartbeat, slow and sluggish, but it sounds like a fucking drum in my head. “Is she breathing?”
Griff’s face is pale as he clutches Quinn to his chest. His eyes are locked on her face. I don’t even know if he knows I’m here. The perceived calm is shattered in the next second when Quinn starts convulsing. Griffin falls on his ass and rearranges his hold on her. Quinn’s head is tipped back over his shoulder while he tries to force her body into submission.
I look around the empty balcony. There’s no one to help us. I reach forward and grab the sides of her head, holding it tightly. The slick blood under my hand is still warm as it gushes over my fingers when I apply pressure.
I watch in horror as Griff opens his mouth and snaps his head down on Quinn’s neck. He gathers her impossibly closer, a growl leaving his chest. Quinn’s body jerks a few more times, but not nearly as violently.
Almost as fast as it happens, he releases her. Blood now slowly trickles from the bite on her neck he was careless to seal. But it’s not much, the flow is way too slow and thick. Bringing his arm up to his mouth, Griffin rips into his wrist. The sound is like nothing I can remember hearing—fleshy and wet. Uncontrolled, his blood spurts forth, spraying in an arc all over Quinn’s shirt and me.
I blink, too shocked to even wipe my face as Griffin forces his ravaged wrist to Quinn’s mouth. Jumping into action, I release her head and pull down her jaw. Her blood on my hands stains her chin.
Griffin’s wide eyes jerk up to mine, his mouth hung open like it’s the first time he’s realizing I’m there. “She’s hurt,” he rasps, and I don’t even recognize his voice.
“Is she breathing?” Panic wells up as it dawns on me this is really happening. I lower my head to her chest. Even with my heightened senses, it takes a moment for me to hear the rattle of her lungs drawing in a shallow breath.
Blood starts to drip in twin rivulets down the sides of Quinn’s mouth, so I tilt her chin up a bit. Griffin brings his free hand up and slowly starts massaging the column of her throat. “Swallow, sweetheart,” he coos softly. Quinn doesn’t make any indication she heard him, but he keeps rubbing gently.
After only a handful of seconds, which feel like an eternity, Quinn’s eyelids flutter as if she’s trying to open them. Her right arm lifts an inch or two off her lap, but falls back like it’s just too much. The beat of her heart quickens, but it’s still too sluggish for my liking.
Griffin stops stroking, but he doesn’t remove his hand from her neck. “A little more.” His words are slow and measured.
I look around, but all I see is her blood. How did this happen? A few feet away, I see her lost shoe with a single drop of blood right over the toe, marring the white sneaker.
Movement draws my gaze back to Quinn as her chin juts up as she takes her first real swallow, but she chokes, sending Griffin’s blood spewing forward like a small fountain from her mouth. Her eyes tighten as she squints. I pull Griffin’s arm away from her mouth as she gasps for a breath. Quinn’s shoulders start to shake again, this time as she’s racked with a cough.
