Lora Leigh - Primal

“What is it?”

His grip at my waist tightened. “It’s your blood. It didn’t kill me, but it’s messing me up. I feel it.”

Shit. “What does that mean?”

He brought his hand to his temple and rubbed as if he had a headache. “I don’t know. My head’s all cloudy, and I don’t think it’s simply from the tranquilizer.”

I was used to Declan being so strong and capable. Seeing him in this weakened condition scared me even more than I already was. And since my blood caused it, I felt that it was my fault.

My jaw set. “I’d rather not have to carry you up those stairs, but I will if I have to.”

His lips curled. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“I’ll let you know when I do. I’m not quite there yet.” I froze when I saw the outline of someone standing in our path. No, he wasn’t standing; he was moving quickly toward us. It was a vampire, his glossy black eyes almost glowing, the veins throbbing on his pale face. He looked like a monster straight out of one of my nightmares.

He hissed, baring his fangs, and his chest hitched as he inhaled my scent. Declan had told me that vampires didn’t actually need to breathe. They did it more out of habit from having once been human than out of true necessity. I wouldn’t exactly call them undead—they were still a strange and unnatural form of the living—but they were no longer human.

And this particular nonhuman wanted a taste of me. I guess he hadn’t gotten the memo about Jillian Conrad, Nightshade carrier. Tasty death on legs.

The vampire grabbed me and dove for my throat, no conversation, no explanation, just a need to feed. Jackson had said that the vampires were kept near starving so they’d make for better test subjects.

This one wanted blood, my blood. Buckets of it. And he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Before I felt more than his cool breath on my throat, Declan grabbed the vampire and threw him against the wall. I heard several bones crack with the impact, but he leapt to his feet immediately as if he felt no pain.

He hissed at me. “I . . . need . . . blood.”

“Too bad.” I staggered back as he drew closer again. I’d let the thing bite me so my blood would kill him, but then I’d run the risk that he’d kill me, not to mention that a loss of blood weakened me. I needed my strength.

He didn’t get the chance to bite me. Declan grabbed the vampire’s head and twisted it sharply to the side. There was a sickening crack. He fell to the ground in a heap only inches from my feet, his black eyes staring upward. Cold sweat slipped down my back.

“Is—is he—?” I stammered.

“No. He’d be ash by now if he was dead. It’ll take him a few minutes to recover.”

“Recover from a broken neck?”

“Yeah. So let’s move.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me along the hallway with him.

The fluorescent overhead lighting flickered out completely, plunging us into complete darkness. A couple of seconds later there was a whirring sound as the emergency system came on. There still wasn’t much light, only enough to see the vague outline of where we were going.

We came to the elevator. Even though Jackson said not to use it, I jabbed at the up button anyway, hoping for a miracle. Not surprisingly, nothing happened. The stairway was another fifty feet down the hall. It was so quiet now. All I heard was our breathing, the sound of our feet against the floor, and my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Fear was useless to me at the moment. It was an emotion that only worked to freeze one in their tracks, like a deer in the headlights. Easy prey to be picked off one at a time.

Paranoia was another thing. That was helpful—a survival instinct that kept me moving, kept me holding tightly on to Declan’s hand as we walked swiftly to our only escape route.

“So this is your life,” I said. “Danger and death around every corner.”

He eyed me. “Enjoying yourself, are you?”

“I can barely contain my glee.”

“And you thought I got all these scars from having a cushy desk job?”

“You might want to consider a change in careers.”

He snorted. “That’s doubtful.”

“No interest in settling down?”

“Only when they lay me down in my coffin. That is, if there’s anything left of me then.”

I grimaced. “That’s a charming thought.”

“This is a regular day’s work for me—maybe a bit more fucked up than normal—but fairly regular. You deserve a safe and happy life where your neck isn’t constantly on the line.”

I met his gaze. “So do you.”

His jaw tightened. “This is my life.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. I know where I belong.”

“Two hundred feet underground with a dozen hungry vampires running amuck.”

His humorless grin returned. “It pays well.”

He could laugh it off—gallows humor, I supposed—but my heart still ached for him. He’d never been given the chance to have a normal life. Being what he was—a dhampyr—left him with few options.

I thought about the Declan in my dream, the untouched one, the unscarred one—the one who hadn’t experienced violent battle like this Declan had. Dream Declan was somebody I could see myself making a life with. He was normal. He was handsome. He was as close to perfect as it got.

But he wasn’t really Declan; he was just some guy who sort of looked like him. And that was enough to give me second thoughts about my previous ideas of perfection.

We reached the stairwell, and I was disturbed by the sounds I could now hear—screams and crashes—they were coming from the level lower than we were.

Declan looked at me. “Probably not a good idea to go down there.”

“That’s where Jackson is—if he’s still alive.”

His expression turned grim. “I need to get you out first. Then I’ll come back for him.”

Fear knifed through my gut. “Like hell you will. You’re hurt.”

“I can’t leave him here.”

“I feel the same way about that woman.”

He eyed me. “The woman you don’t know. That you’ve never met.”

“I don’t care. I have to help her.” I stopped climbing at the next floor, the one above where we’d been. This was where she was being kept—at least, that was the impression I’d gotten. “Come on.”

I pushed open the door. The hallway seemed identical to the floor we’d been on. It felt a bit like a hospital hallway, and it smelled hyperclean, as if it had been recently flushed with antiseptic.

It was dark here and very quiet—too quiet—as if everyone had already escaped. If there had been anyone here to begin with.

I stopped walking and listened hard . . . and heard something. A steady pounding noise. “That might be her.”

“Might be.”

“Worth checking.” I picked up my pace and moved down the hall until I reached the door from which the sound was coming. I pressed my hand up against it. “Is somebody in there?”

The pounding stopped. There was silence for a moment and then, “Help! You have to get me out of here! I’m locked in!”

I tried the handle, but she was absolutely right. I looked at Declan.

He nodded. “Step aside.”

“Stay back,” I told the woman through the door. “We’re going to break the door open.”

Declan kicked the door hard. It only took a few good kicks with Declan’s heavy boot—not to mention his dhampyr strength—before it flew inward.

The woman was dressed in a pink hospital gown, her face pale with fear as she stared out at us with wide eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Now let’s get the hell out of here. We can do the meet and greet later.”