Elias's hands reached for the hotel room's telephone, his heat making every movement feel like wading through quicksand. The vanilla scent of his pheromones still hung in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of Nathan's blood, creating a disorienting haze. He dialled the front desk, his voice tight but controlled.
"Hi, I need an emergency first aid kit," he said, trying to sound casual despite the urgency.
The receptionist's voice was sharp with concern. "Are you hurt, sir? Do you need an ambulance?"
Elias forced a laugh, though it came out strained. "No, I'm fine. Just need the kit. Please."
"Room number?" she asked, her tone sceptical.
"214," Elias replied, glancing back at Nathan, who was slumped on the bed, his face pale and his breathing shallow.
"We'll send someone up right away," the receptionist said, and Elias hung up. He shuffled back to Nathan, kneeling beside the bed to check his condition.
