Once inside, Merritt locked the door behind them and snapped his fingers, making the sign flip around to Closed.  The blinds fluttered shut as well to bathe the room in dim lighting.  

His boss stumbled into his office with Merritt following close behind him, easing down into his chair with a soft grunt.  “Come here,” he rasped.  

“I-I’ll call for a medic.” Merritt reached across his desk for his crystal ball on the cradle, but Bloodworth grabbed his hand to stop him.  “Sir?”

“Listen to me, Merritt.” His blood ran cold at the way Bloodworth’s vibrant crimson eyes dulled in shade.  Even his skin took on a grayish, deathlike pallor. “I need you to pull the dagger out.”

“Are you batshit?” Merritt shook his head. “No, you need a doctor who can retrieve it without damaging your organs.  I never went to medical school, but I know just yanking objects out like that does more damage than good.”

“Do you know how long it’ll take a medic to get here?” Bloodworth snapped.  “A human one at that.  This is a Hunter’s blade.  Vampires can’t touch it without it trying to burn their fingers off.  Gloves don’t help either, not even magically enchanted ones.”

“Son of a witch,” Merritt cursed, then with a shaky breath asked, “This won’t kill you if I do it, will it?”

“If I truly had a death wish, I’d just sit here and die, Merritt.”

“Fair enough.” Merritt crouched down at his chair, shaky fingers wrapping around the dagger’s handle.  It pulsed with potent power against his skin, and even the touch alone told Merritt it would be quite difficult to remove.  

“Well, looking at the damned thing won’t do anything,” Bloodworth rasped, choking on a strangled groan when Merritt did just as he asked.

“Sorry, sir.” Merritt channeled his own magic into the blade, forcing it to bend to his will and expel itself.  Such blades were crafted with the intent to slowly kill a vampire, leaving it as nothing but a husk of themself.  

What his boss didn’t know was that he kept one stashed away in his own briefcase bag in case he ever needed it.  He’d learned to wield it and where to strike, and judging by the placement of the blade, Merritt suspected his attacker had been aiming for his heart, narrowly missing it.  

Bloodworth reached out and braced his desk, clenching his jaw with a low groan as Merritt tugged one final time.  Blood sprinkled them both as the dagger shot through the air and landed across the floor from Merritt’s magic.  He flexed his sore fingers with a grimace as Bloodworth instructed him to reach down in his cabinet for a first aid kit.  

“Don’t worry, I’m not dying on you.” Those words did little to ease Merritt’s anxieties when he propped open the first aid kit, handing his boss the tiny bottle he desired.  “Sir, is that magic glue?”

“Works wonders on wounds.” Bloodworth peeled his bloodied shirt up to expose the gnarly gash the blade had left behind.  He simply squeezed some drops of glue onto the site, then pressed his skin close together with a groan.  “Not my first time being stabbed.”

“You make a habit out of getting stabbed then?” Merritt laughed nervously. 

Bloodworth scoffed. “Something like that, I suppose.  Listen, I know you’re not comfortable with blood and all that, but would you mind digging me out a fresh batch from the fridge?” He gestured toward his mini fridge in the corner of the room.  “You don’t have to open the pouch or anything.  Just pretend it’s red wine.”

“Yeah, sure.” Merritt had lived on campus with vampires, so the sight of a fridge full of blood wouldn’t have shocked him.  It was the lack thereof that unnerved him.  “Um, sir?  You only have about half a pint here.” 

It certainly felt weird holding onto a blood bag, all properly labeled with the date, blood type, donor sex, and race.  Merritt certainly wasn’t focusing on how it wasn’t his blood type on the bag or wondering what his boss’s type might be.

“Wonderful,” Bloodworth grumbled.  “Give it here.  It’ll suffice.”

“Is it enough?” Merritt asked softly.  “You lost quite a bit of blood.  I know you need more to compensate for it.  Not to mention, the date on this isn’t very fresh.”

“It’ll have to do.” Bloodworth held his hand out expectantly.  “To be honest, it’s not my preferred blood type. I was hoping we could have had dinner together and I could have gotten something more to my standards.”

Heartbeat pounding in his chest, Merritt thought back to moments ago when Bloodworth used his magic to protect him over himself.  Yet that wasn’t the only thought floating through his mind.  Dark and dangerous desires stirred in his chest as he recalled his previous blood donor in that very office, at his desk, in his lap.  

Goddesses, strike him.  He should not be lost in such carnal, wicked thoughts when his boss was literally just injured.  

“How do you feel about O negative blood?” Merritt murmured, placing the undesirable blood back in the fridge.  

“That is not part of your job description, Merritt.”

“I can assure you that if it had been, I would not have applied.” Merritt slipped off his robe and rested it on Bloodworth’s desk, a shiver rolling through him when he met his boss’s gaze as he rolled up his sleeve.  That look of hunger, pure desire, should’ve scared him.  But oddly, it did not.  “You will not touch my neck.  Understand?”

Bloodworth parted his lips like he wanted to argue, yet he remained in his seat, dumbstruck and staring at him like he’d sprouted a second head.  Although he had to be starving, the man mustered the energy to summon some paper from one of his drawers.  With a little coaxing of his magic, a quill and inkwell appeared on his desk.  

“Sign here.” Bloodworth pushed it over to him.  “I draw up a form for all my blood donors.  This does not bind you into a contract to continue providing me blood either. There’s a blank space at the bottom for you to fill in any extra clauses.”

In normal circumstances, Merritt would’ve thoroughly gone over the paperwork.  However, he trusted Bloodworth not to use him and didn’t hesitate to sign at the bottom.  

Merritt instinctively rubbed at his wrist, nerves swarming in the pit of his stomach as he quietly said, “Don’t be too rough with me.”

“I promise, I won’t.” Bloodworth gently took his arm, ice cold fingers trailing along a prominent vein.  The smile he gave him, exposing those sharp fangs made him blush, but Merritt found he couldn’t look away.  “I don’t want you to feed me to Bandit, after all.”