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192- recovery

Michael Gotham

My mouth tasted like a rat had curled up and died in it when I came to.

“Michael? Can you hear me?” The rogue’s scratchy voice made me drop my fangs instinctively.

Just how close was the motherfucker to me? Bloody hell if I didn't know any better I'd have sworn he had a crush on me or something!

My eyes rolled around in my head before I dared to open them, the black pinhole of my vision slightly easing as I glanced around the dark room and realized I was hissing.

What the hell was up with that?

My veins felt like they were filled with molten lava and it was all I could do not to claw at the beautiful woman that strutted into the room only minutes after.

“Could you get me more of this Markov? Please?” I whispered when he hesitated, still cradling Elena in my arms and watching his gaze flickered between the two of us before he snatched the blood bag from my hands, muttering curse words under his breath.

“I'm not your fucking butler Gotham, get your own fucking blood next
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