Bane's Choice (Vampire Motorcycle Club #1) - Alyssa Day Page 0,61

caught sight of Hunter, huddled in a far corner.

“It hurts so much, Bane.” The man raised his head, which Bane was shocked to see looked like a skull barely covered with skin. Hunter’s eyes glowed a dark red, and his nails had grown out, which made sense, given the deep, scoring claw marks on the walls and, in one corner, on the ceiling.

The ceiling that was twelve feet off the floor.

“Maybe basketball will be your superpower,” Bane said, attempting a feeble joke, but any humor faded as he looked at what was left of his friend.

“Hurts. You didn’t tell me it would hurt so much,” Hunter growled, and Bane felt every single word as a black mark on his soul.

He’d done this.

And now it was up to him to fix it, when he had no idea what was wrong.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t how the Turn should be happening. I know that is no comfort to you, but—”

Hunter lurched up to stand, staring past Bane. “Blood. I smell—it’s so good. Want. Need. Need! Now!”

Hunter shot across the destroyed room, and Bane braced for impact.

“Need!”

“No,” Bane commanded. “No, you will not go near her. Take my blood. You only want my blood now.”

“Want your blood now,” Hunter said, so brokenly that a spear of self-loathing sliced through Bane. If he’d left his friend to die, as humans did, the firefighter would be at peace now.

But he’d be dead.

No.

Bane’s fangs descended, and he bit into his own wrist before Hunter could savage it. “Here. Take what you need.”

Hunter lunged, grabbing Bane’s arm with newly enhanced strength. He drank and drank, gulping in the blood that he shouldn’t have even been awake to need for another two days. And then, mid-gulp, he glanced up at Bane, eyes widening, and then slowly toppled to the floor, dislodging his new fangs from Bane’s wrist as he fell.

Just like that, he was asleep again.

Bane bent to feel for his pulse and was relieved to find it steady. Inhumanly slow, which meant the Turn was in fact taking effect, but still steady. He bent and lifted Hunter into his arms and put him down on what was left of the slightly shredded mattress lying up against one wall.

When he looked up, Ryan was in the doorway, horror stamped on her expression. “What have you done to him? He was better off in the hospital than like…like that.”

She didn’t add “you monster,” but the words hung, unspoken, in the air between them.

He’d known she’d one day look at him with horror and disgust. He’d just hoped it would be some day far, far into the future.

Not today.

Not now.

“I wanted him to live,” he began, but she cut him off.

“No. Not now.” She rolled up her sleeves and walked into the room.

Shock froze him in place. After seeing that—seeing what Hunter had become—she walked into the room instead of running away.

She was a warrior, and he wanted to worship at her feet.

Instead, he rose and silently watched her approach.

“Now,” she said. “We figure out what’s wrong and how we can fix it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mr. Evans—Hunter—had destroyed the room. It looked like a tiger had been let loose in it. She glanced at Bane’s wrist. No, not a tiger. A feral vampire. But she’d think about distractions like that later, when she wasn’t in the room with him.

When the scent of freshly spilled blood wasn’t thick in the air, carrying with it such a heavy weight of ancient superstition and very modern fear.

“I need my kit,” she mused, crouching down to examine him.

Bane blocked her from touching Hunter by the simple expedient of lifting her bodily and flashing across the room and out the door.

“Not now,” he growled, his eyes twin blue flames. “I don’t know if he’s truly asleep again or just taking a brief respite before he continues to dismantle the room and anyone who enters it.”

She made a growling sound of frustration right back at him. “I need to examine him, Bane. And at least let me bandage your wrist.”

But when she looked again, she saw the wounds fade to fine, white lines on his skin.

“We heal pretty quickly. Even those marks will be gone tomorrow.”

She inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. Well, if we can discover what property in your blood drives your metabolism—your healing—imagine the implications for the rest of the world.”

He held up a hand before she could get any more carried away. “Maybe, and I still agree to let you try—only on me—but