Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(102)

He drank more, greedy. Desperate. Her blood flowed through him, heating his body from the inside out and sending tendrils of power pulsing through him. Some humans tasted of wine. Some of the euphoria that came from drugs.

No one had ever tasted like her. Life. Sex. Pleasure. Everything he wanted was right there in her blood.

He drank deeper.

“S-stop.” Her voice was weaker than before.

He didn’t want to stop. He’d looked for this—he’d always wanted this taste. Craved it, when he hadn’t even known what he was missing. His body seemed to be growing stronger, the muscles expanding with every drop of her blood that he took.

She sagged against him, and Ryder scooped her into his arms, holding her even when her head fell to the side and her breath rattled in her chest.

More.

More.

At first, he thought the urging was just inside him, but then he realized that bastard Wyatt was the one urging him on.

And the woman … Sabine wasn’t fighting him any longer. She barely seemed to be breathing.

He jerked his head away. Stared down at her in disbelief. He hadn’t taken that much, had he?

But he couldn’t remember how long he’d been drinking. He only knew—

I still want more.

He lifted her higher against his chest. Held her cradled in his arms. There was no more weakness for him. Only strength. But she …

Her lashes were closed.

A fear unlike any he’d known before had his whole body tensing. He’d just found her. Ryder knew he couldn’t lose her so soon. Not. Now.

And sure as f*ck not by his own hand. Or teeth.

He brought his wrist to his mouth. Slashed open the flesh. He knew what she needed. “Drink for me.” She’d be all right once she drank his blood.

“No!” Wyatt’s voice thundered out. “Stop! Put Sabine down and back away.”

“Fuck off.” Ryder lowered them both to the floor so he could better tend her. But he kept her close as he put his wrist to her mouth. “Drink.” She’d just need a little of his blood, and she’d heal.

If she’d just drink …

An alarm began to sound. Voices shouted over the intercom. Then footsteps rushed outside his door. The guards were finally coming in to face him.

It was the perfect time to kill them. But if he moved away from Sabine, she’d die. She needed more of his blood. She needed him to survive.

His eyes narrowed on her face. What are you?

She’d been afraid. She’d fought him. She’d stared at a monster and had asked to go home.

Now she was almost at death’s broken door.

“Get away from her!” Wyatt was shrieking.

She wasn’t drinking. Ryder pried open her mouth. Forced drops of blood onto her tongue and then massaged her neck, trying to make her swallow. Live.

The guards grabbed him, trying to yank him away from her. Hell, no. He threw them back. Heard thuds when they hit the walls.

“You have to swallow the blood,” he told her, voice dark and rumbling with command. “Come on …” I didn’t mean … to do this. She’d been so afraid. He’d told her that he’d hold on to his control.

But the beast that he was hadn’t been able to hold on. The beast … Ryder … destroyed. That was his life. All he knew. And he’d destroyed her, too.

His vision seemed to blacken. She was the only thing he could see in that growing darkness. Beautiful, so still.

His head sagged over her. “Please.” He was the one to beg. He’d tasted heaven, and he’d tossed her to hell, all in one instant of time.

“Get away from her!” Wyatt’s voice wasn’t on the loudspeaker any longer. It was right there. In the room with him.

Kill him.

Ryder’s head flew up. He bared his fangs.

And … and felt her mouth move lightly against his wrist. She was trying to drink, to take his blood.

Sabine was fighting to live. Yes.

His gaze snapped back to her. “That’s it! Come on, just drink some—”

Gunshots blasted. Bullets drove into his chest. One. Two. Three. The force of the hits had him falling back even as his blood sprayed the wall behind him.

“I told you,” Wyatt raged as he lifted his weapon. Wyatt had fired? “Back away from the female subject!”

Ryder ignored the pain and reached for her again.

“Stop him,” Wyatt ordered.

Ryder realized the guards were back on their feet.

“Shoot him until he stops moving. The bullets won’t kill him, but they can put him down for a time.”

Bullets exploded, popping like firecrackers over and over again as they sank into Ryder’s body. His chest. His arms.

He hit the floor. Blood seeped from his wounds. Pooled around him on the stone floor.

“Enough!” Wyatt lifted his hand. His eyes went from Ryder to Sabine.

She wasn’t moving. Her head had turned and her eyes—wide open, still alive—were on Ryder. He could see the life in her gaze. She was trying to come back to him. Trying. She just needed more of his blood. Her hand lifted.

Was she reaching for him? Ryder gathered every single ounce of strength that he had. “My … blood …” Only a little more, and she’d be fine. He could save her. Her death—unlike all the others—wouldn’t be on him. He started crawling to her through the blood.