Page 53 of His Eternal Temptation

“It’s too bad you’re not their sire,” Jack said. “Then you could track one of them through your bond.”

Lane hadn’t realized such a thing was possible.

“I’ll ask Nicole for a tracking spell. Unless, Lane, could you—” Rowan cut off just as Jack’s attention sharpened, and they both pulled their phones from their pockets.

“Fuck,” Jack muttered, face paling as he checked the screen.

Rowan’s hard expression didn’t change. He tapped the phone, bringing it to his ear. “Are you still here? Meet in the clinic. Jack will fill you in.” He hung up and said to Jack, “Call Hunter.” Without waiting for an answer, he strode down the hall.

Lane followed, dread weighing each step with increasing intensity.

Rowan was already making another call. “I have an emergency. We need burn tonics, salves, potions, anything you have.” He paused. “Whatever gets you here fastest.” He hung up.

Burns. No, this wasn’t good.

They reached the empty clinic, and as soon as they were inside, Rowan braced against the counter and hung his head.

“What can I do?” Lane asked.

Rowan closed his eyes. “Stand with me.”

Lane pressed in close, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m here.”

Rowan turned to face him. “It’s Emile. Cecile doesn’t know if he’ll make it.”

Lane laid a gentle hand on Rowan’s back. “I’m so sorry.”

Hunter burst into the room, arms full, not acknowledging them as he began organizing supplies.

Rowan straightened, tucking all his anguish behind a careful mask, and Lane dropped his hand. “I have an apothecary with potions on the way,” Rowan told Huner.

“Good. I’ll pump Emile with blood and treat his burns, but it sounds like we’re going to need the extra magic.”

Fire was one of the only ways to kill a vampire permanently, besides beheading, removing their heart, or draining every last drop of their blood. An unwelcome image of the man in the van filled Lane’s mind, and he swallowed against it.

At least that hadn’t happened to Emile. He had a chance. Maybe he hadn’t been in the fire long enough to be permanently killed. Lane suspected his heart or brain needed to be destroyed by the flames to end his immortal life. He tried not to imagine the state the poor vampire would be in, or how much pain, if they feared the worst.

There was shouting in the hall, and Cecile burst into the room, her eyes glowing. Lane got out of the way, tucking himself into a corner. Rowan moved with him and let Hunter take charge as a stretcher was brought in by two others.

It was bad. Lane looked at the floor. Out of fear of seeing too much or respect for Emile, he wasn’t sure. He had no business here. All he could do was try not to hinder anyone who could help.

“His heart isn’t beating, but I don’t know if that means…” Cecile choked, clearing her throat. “He could be temporarily dead. Untouched on the inside.”

“Agreed.” Hunter’s voice came out steady and authoritative. “I’m getting an IV going so he has a steady supply of fresh blood. We need to maintain his magic’s strength so he can heal.”

Rowan’s breath hitched, and Lane looked up. His eyes shone, gaze distant. He looked haunted. Lane grabbed his hand on reflex, and Rowan didn’t respond. Should he not do this in front of others? Would Rowan pull away?

Rowan’s grip clenched around Lane’s fingers, pressure increasing until it hurt, like he was holding on for dear life. Lane didn’t let go.

Once the IV was set up, Hunter erected a privacy screen, for which Lane was grateful. Cecile, Kai, and the other vampire, a blonde who was presumably Evangeline, came to stand with Lane and Rowan.

Rowan didn’t let go of his hand or make any move to hide their interlocked fingers from the others.

More noise came from the hall, and two men burst in, one tall with brown hair and skin, the other shirtless, his blue hair as shocking as his exposed pale chest.

“I have potions,” the taller man announced, his gaze finding Rowan.

“Give them to Hunter.”