Devon sat unmoving, staring at the still figure on the bed. It had been twelve hours since they had made love and he had drained her and given her his blood. Nothing had happened yet, and he didn't dare leave in case she woke.
Why wasn't she waking up? Devon was terrified he had made an awful mistake, carried away in the moment. Instinct had taken over and it had felt right, but now, looking at her pale motionless form he wasn't so sure. And if she didn't stir soon... Well, he couldn't let himself even think of that.
He looked away toward the window, sighing deeply. It was light out now, but his thoughts were dark and jumbled.
A small sigh drew his attention back, and he stood and walked slowly over to the side of the bed, afraid to let himself hope. He looked down at her but saw no change. Maybe he had imagined it out of desperation. Then he saw her eyelids flutter and open slowly, looking directly in his eyes.
Before he could even process the relief that flowed through him, he leaned over and reached down, pulling Mary into a tight embrace. They remained like that for several minutes, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Finally, Devon forced himself to pull back, sitting on the bed next to her. Still touching her arm, he looked closely at her to make sure she was really alright.
"Geez, do I look that bad," Mary said, smiling slightly.
Devon felt the weight of the last several hours of waiting fall off his shoulders, and he couldn't stop himself from pulling her tightly against him again, his hand tangled in her soft hair. She had survived.
