they were growing louder, echoing through Gunner’s skull. A wave of energy, of power, washed over him so hard and fast, his knees started to buckle from the sheer power of it. Rocco caught him around the chest before he face-planted the ground.
His brothers closed in, fighting back the demons as Gunner fought to stay upright.
“Fight it. She’s waiting for you,” Rocco growled against his ear.
His words caused another spike of adrenaline, strong enough to propel Gunner forward. He followed what his female was sending out, as it grew stronger.
Oh god.
Her screams, her pain…no, it was agony, and it filled him to overflowing. He roared and swung his sword, slicing, maiming any demon who tried to get in his way, who tried to stop him from getting to her.
His brothers were behind him, finishing them for him as he ran, colliding with fucking walls, like a drunk man, snarling and growling, roaring with fear and euphoria the closer he got to her.
He reached the bottom of a set of stairs that took him deep into the basement. A door stood in front of him, and he smashed through it.
An elderly male demi-demon stood in front of another door beyond that, a kitchen knife in front of him, shaking his head furiously.
“Get out of my way,” Gunner roared. “Or I go through you.”
“I won’t let you hurt her,” he said, throat working.
Gunner wasn’t capable of articulating what this was, who he was, not this close, not when he felt her agony and fear so strongly. Not when she was calling his name. Screaming it. Screaming for him.
“She’s his mate,” Rocco said from somewhere behind him.
Then his brother was there, prying the knife from the male’s hand, moving him out of the way.
Gunner went for the door, trying to yank it open. Locked. He stepped back and charged it, smashing his body into the reinforced steel, over and over. It dented, started folding in on itself. Gunner didn’t let up, roaring so loud his vision momentarily blanked out.
With a metallic screech and a groan, the door finally gave out, and he gripped the buckled edge and tore it off the hinges, throwing it aside with a concrete-shattering crash—
Gunner froze at the threshold.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Backed into the corner, naked and motionless, she was nothing but skin and bones. One of her legs was bent at an odd angle, and her long black hair was matted around her drawn, skeletal face, but those violet eyes, so pale now they were almost white, were unmistakable. It was her.
All this time, she’d been right here. She’d been with a monster. She’d been suffering.
He’d wrapped his hand around her throat after she helped Grace escape. He’d touched her, and he’d had no idea who she was.
His gaze moved over her, and his heart cracked down the middle.
She should be dead. The condition she was in, she should already be dead.
Rocco cursed behind him.
Gunner ignored his brother and lifted his hands in surrender, somehow managing to shift back to human form despite the turmoil whipping through him. She whimpered, and tiny little fangs slid down.
Dhampir.
His female was half vampire.
“It’s okay, love,” he said as softly as he could and gently scooped her up.
Her head was on his shoulder, her face in the crook of his neck, and she whimpered again. He tilted his head to the side for her immediately, giving her the room she needed to feed.
He felt her fangs scrape his skin lightly, but she was too weak to break through. Cradling her head, he gently moved her away, brought up his blade, and nicked the side of his throat, then led her mouth to the cut.
Her lips latched on immediately, taking what he offered. She made soft mewing sounds, but she was still limp in his arms. Each pull on his vein, though, got stronger and sent shockwaves through his body.
His knees gave out, and he fell against the wall, sliding down.
“That’s it, love, take what you need. I’m here now. I’m here.” He cradled her to him, offering her everything. She could take it all, every last drop of his blood.
Moisture hit his cheeks. He was crying, and he didn’t give a fuck. Tears of joy, of relief, of agony for what she’d been through were streaking down his face.
He looked up at the door, to his brothers gathered there, big boots shuffling, pained expressions on their faces.
“She’s alive,” he rasped.
Chaos cursed. Zenon and Kryos looked down, stepping back to give him