by Nell Stark
“It’s Sebastian,” he said. “His heart rate just jumped and now it’s accelerating steadily.”
“Good,” I said, opening more packages of line.
“Good?”
“His body is reacting. Producing antibodies.” It felt strange to be pleased that the deadly virus was already starting to affect Sebastian, but I couldn’t afford to look at that bed and see him as my friend. It was hard enough watching Alexa’s eyes move beneath her fragile lids, unable to tell anything about her mental state but fearing the worst. At that moment, her head thrashed once again on the pillow, as though she were fighting off some kind of nightmare.
“Her pulse just spiked,” Kyle said. “And now it’s increasing. Faster than Sebastian’s.”
“Keep an eye on it. Let me know when either of them hits one hundred.” I chose the number as a benchmark more than anything else, hoping I was right to believe that they weren’t likely to shift unless their heart rates surged close to two hundred. In the meantime, I knelt on the floor next to Sebastian’s bed, arranging the bags and the cooler in which they’d be stored as efficiently as possible. I might have to get his blood out of the room in a hurry, if one of them did end up shifting.
“Alexa’s at one hundred,” Kyle said into the terse silence. “And Sebastian’s getting close.”
“Damn it.” I had wanted to hold off for a few more minutes, but if Alexa’s condition was already deteriorating then I couldn’t wait. Working quickly, I secured a tourniquet around Sebastian’s right arm and ripped open another package of line. He flinched under my touch, and I did my best to keep my hands gentle, even as I slid the needle into his bulging vein. Within moments, his blood—hopefully swarming with antibodies—was running steadily into the first bag.
Now I was faced with a dilemma. Sebastian’s body was being attacked from two sides—by the virus flowing into his system and the precious fluids draining from it. Would it be wise to keep transfusing him so his blood supply didn’t drop precipitously? Or would it be best to halt the influx of the antigen? I had no idea, and making the wrong decision might jeopardize this entire operation.
As I watched, his lips grew taut, the grinding of his teeth audible beneath the accelerating beeps of the monitors. Swallowing down a surge of dread, I looked over him to Alexa. Her head twitched against the pillow and her hands seemed to be trying to clench into fists. I didn’t want to restrain her, but if I held off, she might hurt herself.
The first bag was almost full and I forced myself to stay put until I could change the line. But once Sebastian’s blood was streaming into the second bag, I hurried to Alexa’s side and wrapped the bed’s cuffs around her arms with as much tenderness as I could manage.
“You’re doing great, baby,” I said, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. When my hand came away moist with sweat, I knew we didn’t have much time.
A muted groan, low and animal, worked its way out between her clenched lips. Tears rose up to blur my vision and I dashed them away with one swipe of my arm as I entwined the fingers of my free hand with hers. But they felt more like claws, scrabbling against my palm in search of freedom. The alarm on her monitor pierced the air as her pulse surged over one-twenty, and her whole body flinched at the noise. I scrambled to turn it off, then bent to press a kiss to her cheek. Her skin was fevered.
“I am so sorry, love. So sorry.” The words came out a harsh whisper.
“The second bag, Val,” Kyle said. “It’s almost full.”
Reluctantly, I returned Alexa’s hand to the bed and went back to tending Sebastian. He had grown restless too, and subtle shudders ran beneath his skin every few seconds. This couldn’t go on much longer. I would have to stop at three bags. I switched the line and double-checked the integrity of the two full units before placing them into the cooler.
“Just hang on for a few more minutes,” I said. And then, suddenly, the door opened. I stood and turned.
And froze.
“Hey, Darren,” Kyle said.
Chapter Twenty-two
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Darren glared at me, the veins in his neck standing out like blue cords against his flushed skin.
“Whoa, take it easy,” Kyle said, stepping forward as he raised a placating hand. He probably thought that Darren had taken umbrage at what I was doing to Alexa and Sebastian. “Val is just trying to hel—”
Abandoning all pretense, Darren swept Kyle aside with one powerful shove that lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing into the wall, where he stayed, wheezing at the force of the impact. In another moment, I knew, Darren would set his sights on me. Or worse—Alexa, Sebastian, and the precious blood I had collected. I had to get him out of the room.
I vaulted over Sebastian’s bed, marshalling every ounce of strength and speed at my disposal, and barreled into Darren. When I made contact, I wrapped my arms around his thick waist and forced him out into the hallway. Sebastian’s monitor erupted into shrill alarm, and I had a split second in which to wonder whether he and Alexa could sense Darren’s presence, before I was preoccupied with defending myself.
“Get that needle out of Alexa’s arm!” I shouted to Kyle, then slammed the door shut in the process of dodging Darren’s heavy fist. But his next punch was already incoming and caught me squarely in the stomach. My breath left me all at once, and I barely evaded being put into a headlock.
I backpedaled, but not fast enough. Darren’s knuckles caught me just under my left eye, and as I staggered backward, tasting blood in the back of my throat, he kicked me in the sternum. I went flying down the hallway, landing hard on my tailbone and gasping for air. My stomach and chest cramped and my lungs refused to fill. I would faint soon if I didn’t manage a clear breath.
He advanced deliberately, and even through my blurred vision I could tell he was gloating. Fortunately, that bought me some time, and I focused on taking shallow breaths until my muscles relaxed.
“I have no idea what Helen sees in you,” he said as he loomed over me. “You’re pathetic. A shadow of what you could be. Blood prime, and a member of the Order, but I don’t even have to shift to tear you to shreds.”
“Why?” I choked out, needing to keep him talking. Gradually, my strength was returning. The pain in my face was sharp, but my chest felt worse, and I suspected a bone might be fractured.
“Why?” He crouched down to snarl into my face. “Your kind should have died out centuries ago. Why the Consortium was ever created is a mystery to me. And to him. It’s survival of the fittest, Valentine. And we are the fittest.”
When a cruel grin spread across his face, I realized just how good an actor Darren had been. In all the time I’d known him, he had seemed reticent. Taciturn, even. His loyalty to Helen had been automatic and unquestioning. And a total farce.
“When I’m finished with you,” he said, “I’m going to do our entire community a favor and put your bloodsack of a girlfriend out of her misery. She’s a disgrace to all of us.”
Darren’s words were like his fists, hitting me precisely where it hurt the most. Streaks of red shot through my vision at his threat, and at the adrenaline surge, I could breathe freely again. How dared he appoint himself the arbiter of who lived and who died?
Tensing every muscle in my battered body, I pushed off the floor as hard as I could when I saw him reach down to grab me. I darted beneath his grasp and spun behind him, then leapt onto his back, wrapping my arms around his thick neck to close off his windpipe. Pain spiked through my chest as my injured breastbone clashed against his shoulders, but I didn’t let go. Roaring in outrage, he reached over his shoulder and yanked at my hair, trying to pull me off. Beneath my hand, his pulse beat a furious staccato.
The last time I had fought a man hand-to-hand, that man had been the Missionary. Like Darren, he had threatened to kill Alexa. Like Darren, he’d had superior strength—delighting in pummeling me and breaking my bones before moving in for the kill. Then Alexa and I had worked together
, alternately engaging and distracting him until I’d been able to fire a kill shot. Now I was alone. Now I was weaponless.
But now I was the Missionary.
Darren crashed backward into the wall, smashing me into the plaster. My grip loosened at the dizzying spike of pain that pierced my chest. Scrabbling for purchase, my nails raked furrows into his neck, and he bellowed again, taking a step forward in preparation for another pass against the wall. Beyond thought and reason—beyond anything but the instinct to preserve myself and defend Alexa—I bent and sank my sharp teeth into his jugular. He howled in pain and rage, slapping and scratching and pulling at every inch of me that he could reach. But I didn’t let go.
I drank.
His blood was hot and thick, liquid strength sluicing down my throat. I was always careful with Alexa, but I didn’t have to be cautious now, when my thirst was also my greatest weapon. I delighted in gorging myself—in the coppery tang that liberally coated my throat; in the temporary cessation of the thirst that was my constant goad; in the power, the raw potential, that seeped into my starving muscles.
I felt the moment when his wolf began to enrage; Darren’s movements became clumsy, and tremors crawled up his spine like the shocks of an earthquake. He fell to his knees, his entire body shuddering as his wolf surged to the surface. Reluctantly, I withdrew my teeth from his skin. Helen had said that the blood prime’s appetite was enhanced, and I wondered if I could have drained him entirely. I would never know. There was only one imperative now: to put him down before he could change.
Shifting the position of my hands on his neck, I called upon my new reserves of strength, and then I twisted. The audible snap was satisfying. Darren’s lifeless body crumpled beneath me, but I didn’t so much as stumble, leaning forward into the pitch of his corpse to land on the balls of my feet. Blood still trickled from his neck, and I watched the flow grow sluggish, then stop. His heart was motionless, his spinal cord severed. He was dead.
Alexa.
I threw open the door, barging in on a scene of chaos. Both Sebastian and Alexa were convulsing in their beds, writhing like creatures possessed. Alexa’s heart rate was pushing two hundred already. Kyle had taken the line from her arm, but clumsily. The crook of her elbow was covered in crimson. He knelt next to Sebastian, frightened but trying to concentrate on disengaging the line from the third bag, which was almost full.
When he saw me, he jumped up. “Oh my God, Val! Are you—”
I ignored him. I had no doubt that I looked terrible, but I felt strong. Already, the pain in my face and chest had eased, muted by the high I had found from Darren’s blood. My vision was clear. Even the metallic grays and blues of the room’s décor seemed vivid.
As quickly as my sharpened eyes took in the facts, my brain was processing them. Alexa would die soon if she couldn’t shift. Sebastian was on the verge of the change himself. Only his blood could free her panther. In an instant, I was next to Kyle, bending to detach the line from the final unit of his blood. I pointed to a package in the box of supplies next to the bed.
“The syringe. I need it.”
Kyle fumbled with the plastic but finally ripped it open, handing me the barrel. I connected it to the line, and when it had filled, jammed a needle onto the threads. “Now. Help me hold her.”
I was at Alexa’s side in two seconds. Her convulsions were increasing in magnitude now, and her eyes had rolled back in her head. My heart contracted painfully, but my head remained clear. Kyle’s human movements were ponderous, but finally he was next to me, pressing down on Alexa’s shoulders as I found a vein in her unbloodied arm. “Stay with me, baby,” I said, pushing down steadily on the plunger.
The seizure that shook her as the syringe emptied was the strongest yet, and would have broken the needle off in her arm if I hadn’t been able to react so quickly. She threw off Kyle’s grip, but when he tried to restrain her again, I waved him away. Her body was starting to blur around the edges.
“Get out of here!” I shouted, tossing the used syringe to the floor. “Before they both change!”
He ran for the door as I gathered her into my arms, praying I hadn’t been too late and that a vial full of Sebastian’s blood would be enough. Alexa thrashed against my chest and her fingernails scratched my face, but I clung to her and darted for the hall. I had to get her away from the wolf that Sebastian was on the verge of becoming.
Once outside, I dropped to my knees and released her. Her face was a mask of agony as the seizures grew stronger. “Come on,” I said, clenching my fists hard enough to break skin. And then, a memory intruded—dusk falling on the Serengeti, the scent of blood on the air, and Alexa summoning her panther to fight the threat. Calling her forth, with a single Swahili imperative.
“Uje!”
Her body stilled. No breath, no heartbeat, not even a muscle twitch. Gone.
As the seconds ticked by, despair sliced me open like a blade. I had killed her. Again. As I stared at her twisted, motionless form, I returned to the night, nearly a year ago now, when I had taken too much of her blood. When I had believed her dead. And now she truly was.
The air suddenly shifted as her body arched into a perfect, impossible bow, like a marionette wrenched up by its strings. Her mouth opened in a scream of primal pain and rage, only to be choked off as her limbs collapsed in on themselves, giving way to the panther. Dark fur bristling, she rolled fluidly onto her paws and loomed over me, snarling.
Gleaming, white teeth curved over her crimson gums, but I felt no fear. She could tear me to shreds in the next moment, and it would be no more than I deserved. She was alive. That was all that mattered.
But then I heard the growl. Low and canine, it rumbled from behind me, and I knew Sebastian had also transformed. Tearing my gaze from Alexa, I took in the sight of the huge black wolf crouched just beyond the threshold of the doorway. Hackles raised and trembling, his red-gold eyes gleamed under the harsh artificial lights. He was truly formidable. And he was fixated on Alexa.
As she focused on this new threat, her belly brushed the floor and her tail lashed dramatically. When the muscles beneath her sleek fur quivered in anticipation of the pounce, the rumble in Sebastian’s throat grew louder. His hind legs flexed, and I knew what would happen next. They would meet in midair, snapping and snarling in a fight to the death. A battle that Sebastian, a born Were and powerful alpha, would undoubtedly win.
I lunged for the door, slamming it home just as Sebastian leapt forward. The force of his impact made the hinges groan, but they held. As I watched through the small window, he lay on the floor panting heavily, ears flat against his head. He would recover soon enough, and I had to get him tranquilized before he tore the whole room apart—including the units of his own blood.
Turning so that my back was against the door, I faced Alexa once again. Her tail still quivered, but now her attention was divided between me and Darren’s corpse, several yards away. I smiled grimly. The thought of her tearing into his body to gain the energy necessary to make the change was satisfying. Poetic justice.
“That’s right,” I said, hoping that my voice would penetrate to wherever Alexa’s human consciousness resided. “Take him. And come back to me.”
She padded on silent paws to where Darren lay prone. The sounds of her feasting didn’t turn my stomach, and I watched dispassionately as she rent the meat from his bones. I had taken my own sustenance from him, after all.
But at that thought, the first trickle of guilt seeped into the front of my mind. Twice now, I had taken blood from someone other than Alexa. The first time had been Clavier’s doing, but drinking from Darren had been wholly intentional. Entirely my decision. And I hadn’t so much as hesitated.
What did that mean?
“Valentine.”
I blinked. Where moments ago the panther had crouched gorging herself, now Alexa stood naked. My mouth went dry as I took her in—jet-black hair brushing her shoulders; the delicate arches of her collarbone that gave way
to perfect, rose-tipped breasts; the pale expanse of her stomach enticing my gaze lower to the dark triangle of hair between her shapely runner’s legs. A wash of heat engulfed me, rising from my gut to set my throat aflame.
Exquisite. Alive. Mine.
“You’re hurt,” she said and quickly moved forward, her hands closing around my forearms as she inspected the damage Darren had inflicted on me. My whole body trembled at her touch.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” I freed one of my hands to stroke the curve of her cheek. “You’re alive.”
She smiled. It felt like forever since I’d seen her smile. “I feel wonderful, actually.”
The memory of her motionless body intruded, making me flinch. “You almost died again.”
“But I didn’t.” She rose to kiss me and my arms automatically threaded around her waist. I could feel the flutter of her heartbeat against my own chest. So warm. So vital. Alive. A groan escaped me at the softness of her mouth over mine, and I pulled her against me, ignoring the flare of pain in my chest. I returned her kiss with everything in me, needing her to claim my very soul.
Behind me, a throat cleared. I spun to face the sound, shielding Alexa’s body with my own.
“I thought you said they were in danger, Kyle.” Karma’s expression was serious, but her voice was rich with amusement.
“I…but…” Kyle’s jaw worked soundlessly.
Trailing them, Helen and Malcolm looked wary. Leon Summers stood close to Helen’s side, his palm resting on the butt of his gun. In the ensuing moment of silence, our collective attention was drawn to the sound of scrabbling at the base of the closed door.
“Darren is dead,” I said, maneuvering myself and Alexa to the side so that our visitors could have a clear glimpse of the mangled corpse. I heard Kyle swallow hard. The others didn’t so much as flinch.
“Sebastian?” Malcolm’s normally smooth voice was tight with anxiety.
