There was so much blood, and more was coming. Monroe didn't know what to do, it was just flowing out of his friend, around his hands and onto the floor. Nick was obviously in shock; he kept trying to move the Blutbad's hands from the viscous tear across his abdomen. Monroe had already killed the cat creature that had done it to the Grimm, but now his friend was in danger of him. He was fighting the wolf instincts that were telling his to just snap the Grimm's neck and have a quick meal.
The blood was smelling more and more delicious with each pump, each push of his heart working against him, the blood seeping out rather than circulating. Monroe felt his face shifting, and the hands holding his friend closed grew claws. He turned his face away for a moment to take a breath, and clear the iron smell from his nose. Nick's slippery hands pried at Monroe's, the detective murmuring something about being completely fine.
Monroe took a few more deep breaths and tried to think of what he could do. Nick wouldn't survive if he tried to move him, but he also wouldn't last much longer if he continued to bleed like this. Monroe had heard stories—legends—when he was younger about other Blutbads, Blutbads with human mates. They often got attacked by pack members mistaking them for food on full moon nights, when it was harder to control the urges. Those Wolves were rumoured to have changed their mates into Blutbads using their own life blood. Monroe wasn't sure he believed it but hey, Blutbads used their blood to heal their Wolf mates all the time anyway so maybe it wasn't complete bull. Nick didn't have much of a chance anyway, so even if it didn't heal him it was better than sitting here and doing nothing…
Monroe had felt the stirring last mating season, but had figured it was just because he was around the Grimm so much. He had everything that a Blutbad looked for in a mate; he was strong, fast, a good provider, a loyal friend, and a good fighter. Then, as the weeks went on, he realized it wasn't so much settling as desire. Somewhere along the line Monroe had fallen in love with his best friend.
And so, he sat here as said friend bled out considering shoving Wesen-hood on the unsuspecting Grimm. He looked at Nick through his red-tinted eyes. Every breath was getting shallower and each spurt from the wound thinner. Monroe whined uneasily and lifted his wrist to his teeth. He dripped some of the blood in Nick's mouth, and smeared more over the wound in his abdomen. Nick murmured softly, bright tongue coming out to swipe the thick liquid smeared on his mouth, and then the detective lay far too still.
Monroe growled softly and nudged at his friend. He could no longer hear Nick's breathing, or heartbeat. He reached out a stained, clawed hand to brush Nick's head back from his forehead. As soon as he touched the other man, Nick's eyes shot open. He sat straight up as the wound in his abdomen knit itself together. Monroe saw a flash of light in which Nick's eyes were red, his face furry and his ears pointed. Then it was gone and Nick was feeling his stomach where the wound had been in awe.
Monroe surged forward, wrapping his arms around his friend and shouting with joy. Nick was safe, and not a Blutbad (as far as he could tell). And this, this meant that he was meant to be Monroe's mate! Surely Nick must understand what this meant! He had read the books…
But Nick didn't understand. He leapt up and ran to his car to rush home to Juliet, leaving Monroe alone once again. But Monroe knew that he could feel it now. Whenever they were alone Nick sat a little closer to him, touched a little longer. And so, Monroe waited for the day when his mate would come back to him.
And the day he did Monroe welcomed him into the pack.