I felt the needle slide into my unsterilized arm. I remembered what I’d read in The Sanguinarius regarding disease: The humors that delight in causing sickness and death will not touch the vampire. He will not be affected by the plagues of Pandora.

I could only assume the same went for modern-day germs and bacteria.

The medicine stung as it entered my vein, but Nathan’s touch was gentle and reassuring. Even so, I fixed my gaze on his face to keep from looking at the needle in my arm—I was never good at being the patient. “So we can heal from serious injuries on our own?”

“The depth of severity is determined by age. If someone had done to me what I did to Cyrus, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I would’ve healed from your stab wound in an hour, whereas you’re lucky you didn’t need stitches. By the time I found you, though, you’d already started to heal. It’s a good thing you’d fed some.” He held his thumb over the injection site as he withdrew the needle, then reached for a Band-Aid. “There. That should take the edge off, and it will help you get to sleep.”

“What about me? How long will it take until I’m completely healed?” I really hoped the answer wasn’t two months.

“You’ll be fine in the morning,” he said as he recapped the needle.

I snatched it from him. “Don’t do that. It’s a universal hazard.”

He looked amused. “A what?”

“A universal hazard. It’s been in contact with body fluids, which transmit diseases that cause death. You could stick yourself in the process and end up dead. It’s a universal hazard, and not recapping needles is a universal precaution.” Realizing I sounded like one of my old professors, I pinched the bridge of my nose in embarrassment. “I can’t believe how easily I just rattled that off.”

“It was very educational.” Nathan laughed. He had a great laugh, deep and genuine. It was the best thing I’d heard all day.

He shrugged. “But I’m not worried about diseases. I’m more worried about a stake to the heart or an axe to the neck.”

“Is that all?” I teased. “I would have thought a strapping lad such as yourself would be concerned about his cholesterol levels.”

Suddenly serious, Nathan caught my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. “Your heart and your head. Lose either one and you’re dead.”

How will you kill me? I thought. “What about burning? Can you die from burning? Or drowning?”

As if horrified by the morbid conversation—or the realization that he’d started it—he removed his hand apologetically. “The short answer is yes, you can die from anything that causes more damage than you can heal in a feasible amount of time. But let’s not talk about this now. You need to rest.”

I wanted him to tell me more, but I just cried gratefully. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do all this.”