She sighed. The sound filled Ryan’s head with the bitter taste of defeat. He didn’t know why. She’d fought valiantly; he was the one who had failed to protect her. And yet the sound he heard was painful in its darkness.
“The serum,” she said.
“What?”
She gestured weakly with a finger. Simon turned to look into the bedroom. A moment later, he stepped over Ryan’s body to grab something from the floor. A hypodermic needle.
“You shot him up with this?” Simon demanded, anger a tangible force in the air.
“You prefer him dead?” Her voice was stronger now, and she’d lifted her head. She looked first at Simon, but then to him. Her words were entirely for him. “You needed adrenaline. You weren’t breathing, and I couldn’t feel your pulse. It was the only thing I had.” Then she shrugged. “But it worked, right? You’re alive. You’re okay.”
The last words were as much a question as a statement. Was he okay? No. He couldn’t fucking move. But he was breathing, his mind was clearing, and truthfully, he felt stronger than ever before.
He curled his fingers. They were stiff, but they moved, clenching slowly into fists.
“Keep it together, Ryan,” Vic said. “We’re not here to hurt anyone. We came because she said you were dying.”
His tongue worked, as did his jaw. Which meant he was able to speak. “Stay away from her.”
“What does this shit do?” Simon asked as he held up the needle.
She swallowed, and her eyes never left Ryan’s face. “Amps them up. Like a thousand percent. But he did something more. Something I’ve never seen before.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. One second, he was dying. The next, he was on top of me.”
“He attacked?”
She nodded. “But not to hurt me.” She moved her arms to cover her breasts. Damn it, her upper body was naked, and they were looking at her.
Ryan growled, and Simon shot him a look. A second later, he pulled a blanket off the cot and draped it carefully around her shoulders. She clutched it weakly, and he saw that her feet moved. His did, too, but he held himself back. He wasn’t going to attack them yet. Not until he had more strength. Not until he could take them both down.
“Ryan,” she said, her voice soothing. “Can you talk? Do you know what happened?”
“Tased.” Then he glared at Simon and Vic. “Stay away from her.”
Vic threw up his hands. “We got that, man. We’re more worried about you. Where the hell have you been? First thing we heard from you in a day is her begging us to come save your ass.”
He sorted through his memories. Things were coming back in focus now. “Sewers,” he said. “Shot. Saved. Wolves.” His eyes narrowed on her. “Enemy.” No, that wasn’t right. “Mate.”
Well shit, that made no sense. And the looks on both Simon and Vic’s faces echoed the thought. He remembered specifically not trusting her. And then he remembered—still felt—the burning need to claim her.
“What did you do…to me?”
She shuddered as she breathed, her eyes completely on his. They held his, grounded him. “You were dying. I gave you a stimulant.”
He looked at the needle in Simon’s hand. “The poison?”
Her gaze slid away to the floor.
“Answer me!” he bellowed.
Her eyes locked back on to his. “Yes!” she spit back. “You were dying, and it was the only way.” Then she shuddered as she clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “It’s addictive,” she said softly. “You should know that.”
He stared at the needle, his mind revolting at the thought that she had shoved it into his arm.
Meanwhile, Simon dropped it into a plastic baggie that Vic held out. “How did you get it?” he asked.
