What was Alex doing? Why hadn’t he answered? But as they began the countdown, she let everything fall from her mind except the job at hand.
“One. Two—”
A blow to her back rocked her as blinding pain ripped through her chest. Her knees buckled, only she didn’t fall. Someone grabbed her from behind. She barely had time to register what was happening as she heard a grunt and searing fire erupted in her midsection.
Before her fading vision, explosions of bright red stained the dull gray paint of the building’s wall. Her feet tripped over something as she was propelled forward, toward the door.
She managed to get her hands up, protecting herself from the impact. The door burst inward to reveal three men, Alex amongst them, slumped against one wall. His shirtfront was soaked with blood.
Blood, she thought, looking downward and finally noticing something dark and wet coating the front of her vest and flowing over the arm wrapped around her waist.
Ryder’s arm, she thought, before blackness claimed her.
Ryder stumbled to the back of the apartment, past the dead and dying men.
His strength failed him. He’d been shot. He vaguely recollected the blow when he’d blocked her body with his. He’d failed to protect her.
He crumpled against the far wall of the apartment, cradling Diana in his arms. She was barely alive.
Taking a deep breath to control the pain from his own wound, he laid her on the ground so that he could get her stabilized until help arrived. As he gently placed her on the floor, he realized there was too much blood. His. Hers. That of the men around them. Sweet, rich and warm on his hands. Heat gathered in his belly and spread outward. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, summoning all of his strength to keep the demon away. A difficult battle. Almost as hard as mustering the courage to remove Diana’s vest and check the damage.
The blood soaking her shirt was all too obvious. He parted the vest further and muttered a curse.
The demon reawakened, bringing unwanted warmth throughout his body. He battled it back yet again, knowing that if the vampire emerged, he might not be able to control it. He might not be able to keep his promise.
He took a deep breath and looked back at Diana.
She was regaining consciousness, possibly running on pure adrenaline. Her eyelids fluttered open and she grabbed his hand. Sticky blood bound their palms together. She peered at him, confusion clouding the gold-green of her eyes.
“What happened?” Her voice was so low he barely heard her.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, but she didn’t hear his answer as she moaned and closed her eyes, agony evident in every line of her body.
He had planned to get her somewhere safe, but death would find them no matter where they went.
He cradled her in his arms and leaned back against the wall. He murmured soft words of love and reassurance in the hope it would comfort her as she passed. He had no doubt she would not survive the wounds. Already a large wet stain soaked her shirt and the top of her pants. The telltale blackness of the blood confirmed one bullet had hit her liver.
Her eyes opened again, glimmering with tears. She grabbed hold of his shirt, her hands fisted against the fabric. Her perfect white teeth bit her lower lip, drawing yet more blood as she battled the pain. Beneath his hands, her body vibrated with it, shaking as fresh waves of agony buffeted her body.
“Ryder…” she moaned. “S-s-sorry…wasted…time.”
“No regrets, darlin’.” He stroked her hair.
She surprised him by managing a smile. “No…regrets.” The smile faded, replaced by a grimace of pain. “Not…s-s-scared.”
He slipped his hand into hers.
“I’m here. I won’t leave you alone.” He kissed her. A hurried and labored breath came against his lips. Another followed, but not for some time, and even then, it was weaker, shallower. He knew this scenario all too well. He had seen more than one person die over his century of existence. But he had never watched anyone die whom he loved as he did her. Never felt their blood spill onto his hands and against his chest.
Her head tilted back. The hand in his stiffened a second before her body went slack. He pulled her tight against him, wanting her to spend these last moments in his arms, wanting her to not be alone.
Her life’s blood spilled out of her body. The heat of it bathed him. Her heartbeat slowed. Softer and less steady until just a slight, hesitant flutter, barely more than the beat of a butterfly’s wings, remained.
A sickening wetness bound their bodies from their mutual blood loss, and the smell, that sweet metallic smell, was strong. Too strong.
He didn’t have anything left in him to battle the change, nor did he want to. The woman in his arms, her heartbeat nearly gone, could only be saved by one thing and one thing alone.
“Do it, Ryder.”
At the words, he ripped his gaze from Diana’s pale face to the dark shadow lurking at the door.
“Stacia. What are you—”
“I followed your friends after you called them. You didn’t think I’d miss the party, did you?” She sauntered into the room, passing from one body to the next until she stopped by the man he had seen with Diana. “This one’s still alive. Unlike your friend will be shortly.”
“Leave.” Anger surged through his body at Stacia’s intrusion. With the anger came the beast, and Stacia laughed.
“Your true face, finally. Suck it up, Ryder. Literally. Turn her or you will never forgive yourself.”
“Leave, Stacia,” he said, his tone weaker.
“She’s almost gone, beloved. Death is calling unless—”
“Stacia, if there ever was a heart in that cold, lifeless body, leave.”
A shocked look crept across her features, but she immediately schooled it. “If you love her, you’ll keep her with you.”
Stacia’s parting comment proved hard to ignore. Especially with the demon strong in him, barely leashed. So hard to let her go. So much easier to turn her, the demon argued.
But selfish, the human countered.
That didn’t keep him from burying his head against the barely perceptible pulse point at Diana’s neck. Her breath was almost nonexistent, even to his now awakened vamp senses. It wouldn’t be much longer, he thought, her pulse lessening while he hesitated, his fangs poised over her artery, over the faint erratic tremble of her blood, sluggishly moving with death so close.
Only a little pressure would be needed to prick through that delicate skin and taste her. Then she’d feed on him, drawing undead life from the cursed blood flowing through his veins. And yet…
With a loud, hurt-filled moan, he raised his head, nearly howling his frustration. He couldn’t do it, even if it meant losing her.
She had asked that he not turn her. Even while knowing she was dying, she had told him she wasn’t afraid. Somehow he tapped into that courage. To her strength.
The tears came then, blurring her face, making it easier to imagine life remained. It was the way he wanted to remember her, filled with a vigor and spirit that for a short time had made him happy. Had made him human once again.
Pain colored her world. Each breath required more effort than the one before. Wrong that it should be so draining, that her hands refused to cooperate, losing their tenuous grip on Ryder’s shirt, on his hand tucked close to her heart. The edge of her torment was lessened by the strength of him nearby, by the warmth of his body.
&nbs
p; Slowly, however, as her breathing became more and more laborious, a chill set in. She forced herself to draw another breath, but a heavy stone sat on her chest, making even the simple beat of her heart nearly impossible. She struggled for only a little while, and then came a blissful peace that eliminated her agony, ending her useless efforts.
Suddenly she found herself on a beach, the sun glaring brightly. The light called to her, whispering her name until she realized it was no sun. A bright, whirling tunnel of brilliance opened in front of her. From the center a figure emerged, one hand held out in welcome. The light limned the edges of the shape until he left the tunnel and stood before her.
“Papi?” Her father came to her, as young as the day he had died.
“Mi’ja.” His voice, soft and soothing, dulled the edge of her pain. “I wish it wasn’t your time—”
“It can’t be, Papi.”
“Hija,” he began in that voice she recognized from her childhood, the one he had always used with her stubborn side. “I’m here to guide you. We are all waiting for you. Your grandparents and—”
Diana shook her head in denial and took a step back. The pain increased with the movement. Despite that, she retreated from her father’s figure. He continued his entreaty, but she balked, turned away and witnessed for the first time the scene below her.
Ryder held her in his arms, his head buried against her neck. The demon. Howling with a pain that sank its teeth deep into her, transferring its anguish. Engulfing her in his loss and yet…
A sense of completeness filled her. She had needed to understand what would make her happy for so long. His love brought the call of her destiny. It wasn’t her time. Not yet.
Her father summoned her again. She turned and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Papi, but I can’t go with you now.”
She once again looked at Ryder’s face, with its elongated fangs and inhuman features. But instead of running from it, she plummeted downward, back into the blinding pool of pain.
Back into his arms.
Chapter 23
S tacia hurried from the room, the tortured energy emanating from Ryder driving her to rage. She had never felt such love, such devotion.
She flew upward onto the roof only to discover she was not alone.
A man stood there, holding some kind of weapon. He whirled, the pleased look on his face vanishing when he noted her vamp features. He was a handsome man, tall, able-bodied. He raised the weapon to his hip and pointed it at her, which only made her laugh.
“Do you think that can hurt me?” She sauntered toward him, moving until the barrel of the weapon nestled against her stomach.
He looked down at the barrel against the bare flesh of her midriff. The heat from the muzzle branded her skin, perfuming the air with the smell of burned flesh.
“It seems to have done fine by me tonight,” he said with pride.
Stacia followed his gaze and noted the large fire on one floor, clearly the result of an explosion. Two figures moved along the hallway. Blake and Diego. She had followed them here earlier, but now they were fleeing the flames, dragging someone along with them. She returned her attention to the human.
“Is that your masterpiece?”
A sadistic smile on his face, he replied, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
She thought of Ryder and the woman in his arms, likely dead by now. Another accomplishment of this man.
“You’ve been a naughty boy.” With a quick swipe of her hand, she tore his throat out.
He staggered back, shock on his features as he grabbed at the shredded flesh and cartilage that remained. He tried to speak, but air only whistled through his fingers accompanied by the gurgle of blood. His eyes went sightless while he stood. It took a moment for gravity to drag him to the rooftop.
A human without any humanity. “And they call me a demon.” She gave him one final nudge with the point of her black boot to make sure he was truly gone. Satisfied with her handiwork, she leaped to an adjacent rooftop, eager to find a bit of fun to drive away the unpleasantness of the night.
She was sorry that she had ever followed Ryder and his friends.
Ryder rocked back and forth with her in his arms, comforting her as he waited for her to pass, only her heart continued to beat.
Had it stopped? Even for a moment?
He listened. Faint, but still beating. Hanging on.
The delay had given him time to regain some strength, but he wasn’t sure he could get Diana somewhere safe, away from whoever was trying to kill her. Somewhere she could receive medical attention.
The sounds of sirens piercing the night told him he didn’t have time to linger. Using the wall behind him as a counterbalance, he pushed with his legs and managed to get upright. A wave of weakness swept over him. He’d lost a lot of blood. If he fed from one of the dead men, could he recover the strength he needed?
“You okay, mate?”
At the doorway two figures stood waiting for him. Diego and Blake. He’d called for their help when he’d decided to follow Diana after she’d left his apartment. He’d forgotten about them in all the chaos.
“I can’t do this alone.”
The two vampires rushed forward, but stopped when they saw his condition and that of the woman in his arms.
“She’s in a bad way, amigo.” Diego moved to take Diana from him, but Ryder pulled her close, unwilling to give her up for even a second.
“Need to get home.” His voice was weak.
Blake laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be a stubborn bloke. We can get her to a hospital.”
“No hospital. She won’t be safe at a hospital.” Whoever wanted her dead would search for her and finish the job if they knew she was still alive. He had to leave here. But he couldn’t get started, losing his footing from his frailty.
“Bullocks, I knew this was going to be tough,” Blake said. He looped an arm around Ryder’s waist and Diego did the same, giving Ryder the stability he lacked on his own.
Somehow he managed to put one foot in front of the next until they were at the door. Footsteps charging up the stairs urged them to make their escape quickly. His friends used their combined power to get him on the ledge and then up to the roof.
He barely noted the bloody body sprawled on the rooftop. Diego and Blake moved too rapidly, propelling them from one rooftop to the next while he held on to Diana, counting each heartbeat as she clung to life, every second that passed keeping alive his hope that she could somehow survive her injuries.
She was still with him when they reached the balcony and stumbled to the kitchen, where he laid her on the table and dropped into a chair.
“Get Melissa.”
Blake left while Diego opened the refrigerator and pulled out a few bags of blood. “Feed,” he commanded, and Ryder wasn’t about to argue. To keep the demon under control, he needed sustenance.
As he held the bag to his mouth, he grabbed Diana’s limp and bloodied hand, breaking contact only when Diego slipped the vest and clothes off her body to expose her wounds.
Maybe it was Ryder’s imagination, or possibly his weakness, but it seemed as if the bleeding had slowed. As if the wounds weren’t as serious.
Diego balled one towel against her midsection and placed it over the gunshot. “Tight pressure,” Ryder instructed. “Tighter.” But before Diego could do anything else, Melissa raced into the room, her doctor’s bag in hand, Blake and Sebastian behind
her. Sebastian cradled something to his chest and Ryder realized it was the baby.
So much for not involving that innocent in his undead life, he thought with disgust. He looked at Diana’s still body, wondering why he had ever involved her in his savage world, only…it hadn’t been vampire violence that had done this. It had been humans. If not for him and his friends, she’d be dead. Was nearly dead now, he thought as Melissa evaluated Diana’s wounds.
“Liver’s been compromised. Possibly an artery in the chest region. I can’t deal with this here,” Melissa said, shaking her head.
He tossed aside the empty blood bag and said, “You have to. She won’t be safe in a hospital.”
Sebastian swung around to challenge him. “She’s an FBI agent. Of course she’d be safe—”
“Someone on her team did this. They wiped out the two agents with her,” Ryder said angrily, the rumble of the animal in his voice.
Sebastian gripped his sister’s arm. “Diana,” he said softly, but she didn’t stir. He looked up at his wife. “Is she going to die?”
“I don’t know, but you need to help me.” Almost as an afterthought, she said to Ryder, “You need to feed some more. Now.”
He was loathe to leave Diana for even a second, but he sensed that his keeper and her husband didn’t need his undead demands distracting them. He entered his bedroom and Diego closed the door behind him.
“Feed, and then we must talk, amigo.”
Finally releasing the tenuous control he’d been exerting over the demon, Ryder greedily plunged his fangs into another blood bag. As soon as he devoured it, Diego provided yet another. It was only after that last feeding that Ryder finally felt restored.
Falling back against the pillows he had shared just that afternoon with his love, he met Diego’s concerned gaze. “I didn’t turn her. I promised her I wouldn’t.”
Death Calls Page 15
