Once Bitten, Twice Burned

Wyatt’s face was red, mottled. And when he lifted his hand to swing at Ryder, the move was slow, uncoordinated. Ah, the gas was kicking in. “Won’t . . . kill . . .” Wyatt muttered.

“Hell, yes, I will,” Ryder snapped right back. He’d take extreme pleasure in gutting the guy.

But Wyatt shook his head. “The gas . . . won’t . . . kill . . . me . . . just . . . sleep . . .”

Wasn’t that f**king fabulous to know. “Where is Sabine.” Not a question. A snarled command.

“Dead,” Wyatt whispered, his voice hoarse. “Dead . . . over and over . . . dead.”

Ryder sank his teeth into Wyatt’s throat. Why waste any more time? He’d take his blood and make the bastard lead him to Sabine.

The instant that Wyatt’s blood slid onto his tongue, Ryder knew something was wrong. His body began to shudder, no, to spasm. He couldn’t control the spasms. Couldn’t stop them. Ryder tossed Wyatt across the room.

Wyatt slammed into a window, breaking the glass with his head, and the guy sucked in deep gasps of breath. Fresh air that came through the broken window.

Ryder spat out the man’s blood. It didn’t help. His body continued to spasm and he fell to the floor. What the hell?

“Told you . . . before . . .” Wyatt gasped, “I’m . . . poison.” Wyatt rolled over to face him. “The others . . . the en-enhanced ones could . . . smell the poison. Knew to . . . stay away.”

Fuck. The story the guy had spun about the primal vamps was true. But then, deep down, Ryder had suspected it was.

I’d just hoped like hell that it was BS.

Ryder’s hands flattened on the floor. It felt like his insides were ripping open, but at least the spasms had stopped.

“And that’s what . . . h-happens . . . with just a few . . . drops . . .”

Ryder lifted his head. Found Wyatt smiling. “Guess what would . . . happen,” Wyatt said, “if you took . . . more?”

Using every bit of energy he could drag up, Ryder pushed to his feet. “I don’t have to use my”—hell, he hurt—“fangs to kill you. I can do it with my bare hands.”

And he would. Each step was brutal, but Ryder made his way across the room. He grabbed Wyatt and yanked the bastard up toward him. “Sabine.”

“Want . . . her, do you?” Satisfaction rolled in the words. The mad scientist, pleased with the results of his experiments.

“What did you do to me?” The question burst from him. His claws slashed into Wyatt. “Why do I need her so much?” So much that when he closed his eyes, he saw her. He couldn’t escape from his need. Not in dreams. Not in blood.

There was no place that she didn’t reach. That she didn’t haunt.

“I did . . . nothing . . .”

Bullshit.

“The beast . . . did it all. You don’t know what you are . . .” Wyatt’s voice rose in pain when Ryder drove his claws into the guy’s side. “I . . . do. The first.”

“I’m gonna be the first one to send you to hell, that’s for sure!”

“She’s your match. Without her . . . you’ll . . . insane . . .”

What? He’d go insane? Now it was Ryder’s turn to laugh. “I’m already there.” The pain in his gut had lessened, but he wasn’t about to make the mistake of letting Wyatt’s blood anywhere near his fangs again. “So tell me where to find her or you’re about to see just how it feels to have your skin peeled away.”

Then Ryder heard a scream. Long and high. And he smelled smoke.

“You don’t have to find her.” Wyatt’s head sagged. “She’s coming. Vivian and I—we set her after the other . . . phoenix. Got to see . . . which stronger . . .”

“Always experimenting, aren’t you, bastard?” Ryder put his hand over Wyatt’s chest. Without his heart, he’d like to see how the guy kept living. “You won’t experiment anymore.”

Wyatt’s lashes lifted. His body stiffened, and suddenly, he didn’t look nearly so weak.

Wyatt shoved Ryder back. “If you kill me, you won’t find out which of your own damn vampire group sold you out to me.”

No, definitely not so weak. Had he ever been weak? Had the jerk just played him?

Ryder’s body tensed.

“Do you think it was just chance that you were taken? You? When there are so many vampires out there?” Wyatt’s voice mocked him. No more weakness. No more stutters. The guy was a damn good actor. He’d just been delaying . . . until what? Until he smelled the smoke. “Your own kind sold you out. Some didn’t want to be monsters. Some wanted a cure.”