“Blood.”
Divine glanced down at that word as Marcus suddenly caught her ankle in a hard grip. Easing the door closed, she knelt next to him again. “How bad is it?”
“Blood,” Marcus repeated.
Divine sighed, but nodded. “I’ll find someone.”
“No.” His hand tightened on her ankle. “My SUV.”
“What about it?” she asked with confusion.
“Blood . . . there,” he gasped.
Divine frowned, her confusion only deepening, and then she recalled the bags he’d carried into her RV and that he had even slapped one to his mouth and drained it. She asked with amazement, “You mean that bagged stuff?”
He grunted and Divine shook her head.
“We can’t survive on that, Marco. The nutrients die the moment it leaves the body. You need—”
“No,” he hissed. “Bagged.”
“Your bagged blood is in the refrigerator in my RV,” she said, and then added dryly, “And I am not going in there to get it.”
“More,” he gasped. “SUV.”
Divine clucked impatiently. Bagged blood would not help him through this. He needed live blood to give him strength and help him heal. However, she knew without question that the man was stubborn enough to refuse to feed from a mortal if she brought him one of the carnies. Besides, the trailer was tiny and hot and stank of burnt flesh. Getting him out of there and to his SUV was rather attractive just then. And once she had him in the SUV she could take him elsewhere to find donors to feed from. It was never a good idea to feed where you lived. Divine avoided that as a rule.
Decision made, she bent and scooped him up.
“What . . . doing?” he almost moaned the unfinished question, but Divine got his drift.
“Taking you to your SUV,” she said grimly, turning to the door and cracking it open with the fingers of the hand at his shoulders so that she could peer out.
“Bring . . . here,” he gasped.
Divine snorted at the very suggestion. “I’m not bringing anything here. You need blood to heal, but once you get it, you’re going to scream your head off and thrash like a landed fish. I’m getting you the hell out of here and somewhere you can’t alert the whole town to the agony you’re going through.”
Marcus groaned but didn’t protest further so she supposed he thought that was the right decision. It didn’t matter if he did or not, though; it was what she was doing, Divine thought grimly and slipped out of the trailer once she saw that the way was clear.
The first problem Divine encountered was that she had no idea where his SUV was. It took some hunting to find it and then she only knew she had the right vehicle because it had Canadian plates. That should have raised a lot of questions with the carnies. The only way it couldn’t have was if Marcus had controlled some minds and such, she thought as she finally paused beside the vehicle.
“Keys?” she asked, glancing to the man in her arms.
“Pocket,” he said, or at least she thought that was what he mumbled. Using the back of the SUV to help hold him up, she quickly patted him down until she found the keys in his pocket, his jeans pocket of course. Rolling her eyes, she slid her hand into the tight space to snatch the keys out, doing her best not to feel anything but the contents of his pockets. Dear God, she was an old woman, she shouldn’t be shy about digging around inside a man’s pocket . . . should she?