Chapitre 88: Transfusion

Caitlin washed thoroughly, pulled on sterile gloves and a surgical mask. When she would have put a mask over his face, too, he warned her off with a silent show of fangs and a wrist lock he couldn't budge. It was the same when she tried a needle. Hack eyes blazed at her. She shook her head at him. "Please don't make me do this, not like this. I'm not a butcher. I won't do it this way." She tried to sound tough and not tearful. "I won't do it." 

They stared at one another, locked in a strange mental combat. His black eyes burned into her, demanded obedience; his rage, always seething, was beginning to surface. Her tongue touched her lower lip; her teeth followed, scraping nervously. Satisfaction crept into the black ice of his eyes, and he lay back, certain he had won.