Page 52 of Immortal Burden

There, sitting at an abnormal angle on the coffee table was Ryker, his sweatpants gone and now just clad in his boxers. His upper thigh was severely gouged, his blood pouring into a glass held beneath the wound.

I jolted upright, hissing with the effort.

My senses were truly compromised. I had neither heard what he’d been doing in the kitchen, nor had I scented his blood until he’d been right upon me. And my supernatural vision was next to none as I was having to strain to see what was merely a foot from me.

Terror tore through me when I realized exactly what he’d done.

Slicing a blade across his skin to achieve a trickle of blood would have been bad enough. But he’d committed far worse.

“You are bleeding out!” I cried. “At a rapid rate.” I concentrated. “Your pulse is straining.”

He drew in a shaky breath, grimacing in pain as he told me, “You won’t drink straight from the vein so this is the solution.” He grunted with the effort of holding the glass steady.

“You have severed your femoral artery!That wound is fatal, Ryker!”

“Then you’d better hurry up and drink this so you have the strength to heal me then.”

“You shouldn’t have done this.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and watch you suffer when I can do something about it.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, then studied his wound. “Now, I’d say there’s another ten minutes before it’s a one-way-trip to the spirit world for me, so get on with it.”

“You fool,” I admonished. “Your calculations are incorrect. You have far less time than you think.”

I was well-versed on the subject. Not only had I seen a great many battle wounds during my centuries spent as a warrior during more brutal times, but I’d drained many beings to the point of death. I knew exactly the rate and speed that it took each species to bleed out from every type of wound imaginable.

“Either way, drink this and heal, or let me die. Your call.”

Snarling at his extreme and dangerous actions, I snatched the glass from him. “Your impetuousness knows no bounds.”

He smirked weakly, then collapsed, sprawled out on the coffee table.

“Hell!”

He’d left me absolutely no alternative. In my current state, I was too weak to heal even the smallest wound, let alone the one he’d inflicted upon himself.

I hurriedly gulped down the glass full to the brim with his blood.

I had neither the time, nor the levelheadedness available to me to ease into it, to ingest his addictive, potent blood in a careful, measured way.

The haste of it, the current state of Ryker riling me up, had the demon surging to the surface, the vampire taking over me completely.

My talons broke free, my fangs dropping and scraping against the glass, my facial features contorting. I snarled, downing every drop ravenously.

But the demon wanted more.

Agitation borne from desperation had me crushing the glass in my hand, sharp shards slicing open my palm.

I released it and eyed my hand. It began to heal immediately. I could feel the pain from my wounds and burns all over my body doing the same. My strength returned swiftly.

Heal?

I caught sight of Ryker lying prone on the coffee table, his eyes barely focused as he looked my way, a weak smile on his face.

It was enough to pull the demon back, to check its bloodlust.

At least temporarily.

Snapping into action, I swept a talon across my wrist, then bolted forward, cupping his head to angle him. “Open,” I commanded, brushing my finger over his lips.

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