Blood Mate: The Project Rebellion, Book 2 (28 page)

Mutual kill. No winners in that game.

“God no…please, no.”

Darce shoved Sanders out the way to race past, making the other wolf stumble backward against the mesh. The Lieutenant yanked the guy off the Blood and hauled her into his arms, a terrible keen of utter despair ripping from his throat. It was a sound that raised the hackles on the back of Sanders’s neck and reached right down through his body and into the connection he had with his wolf, touching both their souls. The sound of a pain and loss so complete anyone hearing it knew the owner would never be whole again.

“Please, Toni…sweetheart. Wake up,” Darce begged, his voice a broken whisper, the once proud man humbled. He held the slender body of his mate in his arms, tears running down his face. “Please…don’t leave me. You can’t leave me.”

Oh fucking hell, the poor guy. Tears of pity for Darce’s pain welled in Sanders’s eyes. No one deserved that. To find their mate, the one special person who completed them utterly…only to lose them. To not be able to save them. Sanders let his wolf recede, the bigger form folding back into his human body.

A moment’s pride filled him that he’d finally found the key to the change, but it was quickly gone at a new sound. The guy Darce had pulled off his woman groaned, and rolled to his back with a cough. Blood stained his lips and dribbled down his cheek. Training took over and Sanders was down on his knees next to the guy in a heartbeat. Tall and broad, with a head of dark hair and heavy stubble, the injured man had a strange scent. Not wolf, not Blood but somewhere in between. The Hybrid, it had to be.

Sanders checked the guy over, his movements swift and efficient. He was breathing, which meant his airways were open. He’d turned over himself, one knee bent up, and even now his toes wiggled against the sand so his spine was good. Reaching out, Sanders placed his hands on the guy’s chest to sweep down and check for broken ribs that might compromise the abdomen, but things didn’t go quite to plan. The moment Sanders’s hands touched down, black-on-black eyes snapped open to focus on him with pinpoint accuracy.

Sanders’s fingertips stilled just below the collar-bones. Silken skin over muscles that seemed carved from steel invited him to explore, but Sanders kept the temptation strictly in check. Lower down, terrible wounds marked where the female Blood had ripped into him to get to his heart. Literally through his stomach. So much damage…surely even whatever-he-was couldn’t survive that?

“Hey there, bud.” Sanders smiled in reassurance. “You’re safe now. I’m Joe… Just gonna check you’re okay to move, then we’ll get you out of here. Sound good?”

Whatever response Sanders had expected, it wasn’t the one he got. Between one breath and the next, the Hybrid moved. Hard hands closed around Sanders’s arms, and a second later Sanders was flat on his back, pinned under a hard, very male body.

“Better.”

Shit shit shit.

Sanders froze at the feeling of razor-sharp claws across the front of his throat. No one should be able to move so damn fast, especially not wounded like this guy was, but somehow he had. Within a heartbeat, he had Sanders locked down and immobile under him. One arm hooked under Sanders’s shoulder, a hand clasped around the back of his neck to both brace the Hybrid and control Sanders’s upper body at the same time. Sanders’s legs were pinned down just as effectively. Hard thighs covered his and the Hybrid’s feet hooked into his ankles. He wasn’t going anywhere fast.
 

“Holy crap.”
 

The pack around them froze, tension and wariness high in the air. As if they hadn’t had enough to deal with recovering Foster, tangling with a wounded and pissed off Hybrid was just an extra kick in the balls.

“Joe…you okay bud?” Jack asked carefully, the others fanning out in a loose semicircle around Sanders and the man hunkered over him. The pack would go to war and back for one of their own and he knew they would willingly take on a host of Hybrids. Whether Sanders himself would survive such a confrontation was another matter entirely.

The Hybrid crouched over Sanders, his lips curling back to reveal vicious fangs just inches from Sanders’s throat—like the smaller man had become his new favorite possession. Sanders just hoped he hadn’t been cast as a chew toy. That could end badly. But the claws didn’t slice. Instead, callused fingertips stroked over the skin of his throat, almost like a caress.

Sanders waved the pack off with his free hand. The Hybrid moved with him, reaching to capture Sanders’s wrist and tug the limb back in against his side. The Hybrid then hissed at Jack and covered Sanders with his own body. Almost like he were protecting the smaller man.

Sanders closed his eyes, a wave of longing washing over him. This must be what having a mate would be like. That was the dream—to have someone there to protect and be protected by, to have someone to lean on… To have a guy feel like that about
him.

The Hybrid’s scent wrapped around Sanders when he crowded closer. Warm skin, male sweat and blood overlaid the feral smell of a Lycan, but it was laced with something deeper and darker, which stole Sanders’s breath. Liquid heat flooded his body, racing down his spine to circle his balls then drive into his cock. He was stiff in a heartbeat—the rampant length of his dick pressing up into the other guy’s toned stomach. The hairs there teased against the tip of Sanders’s cock and he bit back a whimper, wincing when the Hybrid drew back to look at him.

Dark eyes met his, a question in their black on black depths. Sanders held his breath. Fuck. He was so getting the shit beat out of him now. Possibly worse given the claws that had stilled on his throat, right over the jugular. In his experience, even men who said that they were cool with the gay thing struggled when it was up close and personal. And it didn’t get more personal than another guy’s dick rubbing a trail across your stomach.

Then, impossibly, heat filled the darkness in the stranger’s eyes. Heat and a feral lust so intense it sent a shiver of weakness from the top of Sanders’s head all the way down to his toes. A weakness which turned to an inferno as a small growl rolled up from the depths of the Hybrid’s chest. Strong fingers closed around Sanders’s throat and turned his head to the side. Bared the length of his throat. The Hybrid leaned down, his warm lips whispering over the pounding vein under the skin, the prickle of stubble making Sanders bite back a whimper.
 

“God…yeah,” he whispered in agreement, wanting nothing more than to feel this man’s fangs in his throat even though the thought of being bitten by a Blood, even a half-Blood, should have filled him with revulsion. Suddenly he realized what Foster must have been going through. He needed it more than he needed his next breath and he’d do anything to have a guy—this guy—look at him in that way again. With fascination and wonder, as though he was everything.

The Hybrid struck, his fangs piercing Sanders’s skin and into the vein beneath. Sharp pain sliced through Sanders, drawing his spine into a hard arc. The fangs retreated and warm suction took its place. Each hard pull rolled through his body like a locomotive, drawing a direct line right down to his cock. He groaned and tried to stop the automatic roll of his hips but it was impossible. The Hybrid growled and pulled Sanders closer but gently, not like a rag doll, and continued to feed. Shouts and the scent of panic clued him in that the pack was freaking out. Unable to do anything about it, Sanders closed his eyes and opened himself completely to his fate. Even if the guy killed him, it didn’t matter—he’d already given Sanders a taste of heaven. And that was all he’d ever wanted.

Chapter Nineteen

Agony. Numbness. Despair.

Darce felt all three and more as he rocked the limp body of the only woman he’d ever really loved in his arms. His heart shattered right there in his chest, the ache so complete it felt like there was a physical hole in the center of his body and soul, the jagged edges seeping his lifeblood out onto the unforgiving floor beneath. He rocked back and forth helplessly, not knowing what else to do.

Toni was clasped close in his embrace, her body cold and lifeless. The eyes that had flashed with heat and humor, or irritation with his cocky answers, were now closed. The energy which had made her seem larger than life was all gone, leaving him with nothing more than a delicate shell to hold. Fresh agony stole his breath. He bent his head over her, burying his face against the slender curve between her shoulder and neck, not caring who saw him cry.

“Oh God, babe. Why?” he whispered against her skin. The Hybrid had had him beat, a few more blows and it would have been all she wrote, but Darce hadn’t cared about that. He’d have done anything—
would
do anything—to ensure her safety. But instead she’d given up her life for his. Taken on the Hybrid when he was down and it had killed her.

He slammed his head back against the mesh panel, hot tears scalding his face.

It should have been him. Not her. What kind of man was he if he couldn’t protect the woman he loved?

No man. Nothing worth the name.
 

Darce drew a shuddering breath. He was done. There was nothing—no fight, no anything left in him. They’d just have to leave him here to die. At least then he could finally be with her.

“Fuck! He’s feeding. Joe…shit, Joe!”

“Someone get the bastard off him…he’s gonna kill him!”

A warning growl and the panicked cries of the pack got Darce’s attention. He lifted his head and frowned, squinting to bring the scene in front of him into focus. Richards was off to one side with the woman who’d been shoved in the cage with Toni, while in the middle of the sand Sanders was pinned under Steele, the latter with his teeth buried in the smaller man’s neck. As he watched, Steele disengaged and looked up, directly at Darce.
 

A snarl of rage spilled from Darce’s lips. How the fuck had Steele survived? How
dare
he survive when Toni lay dead in Darce’s arms? Anger fed agony which rolled back and forth between wolf and man. The change welled inside Darce, ready to burst from his skin. His hands clenched, the urge to bury his claws in the Hybrid’s throat almost overwhelming.

“Blood, you idiot. She needs blood. Your blood—it’s how Hybrids work.”

Darce’s eyes shot open wide. Fucking hell! He
knew
this from last time. She was a goddamned Blood—of course she’d need the stuff to repair damage. His hands shook as he lifted his wrist and tore into it. The pain was nothing compared to panic. Blood poured down his arm from the torn flesh but he didn’t care. Instead, he lifted her head and shoved the damaged wrist against her lips.

“Come on sweetheart, drink,” he urged, settling her against his shoulder and arm so he could tilt her head. If he had to pour his blood down her throat, he would. He’d stop at nothing to make sure she lived, even hand her his still-beating heart on a plate if she needed.

“C’mon, babe. Swallow some, please.”

There it was, slowly at first but definitely a ripple of movement, as though she was trying to drink. His heart sang. It was working. Encouraged, Darce held her tighter, crooning in a soft voice when the ripple became more defined, until she started to swallow weakly.

 
“That’s it. Attagirl. That’s great. Just a little more.”

He watched her like a hawk, relief replacing the panic in his heart as she took more and more, the pull on his wrist stronger and stronger. Warmth started to seep back into her limbs, radiating to him wherever they touched. Deep within him the wolf paced, feeding more and more power without asking anything in return. Darce knew he was beat—his body riding the keen edge of exhaustion and blood loss—but he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

Her eyes flicked opened and she disengaged her fangs, then swept her tongue against his wrist to seal the wound. She lay back in his arms, and looked up at him.

 
“Hey.” Her voice was croaky, tight with pain, but she was speaking. Alive.

“Hey yourself. How do you feel?”

She coughed, the spasms wracking her body but when he looked down to check her stomach, the vicious tears were all but closed over. He blinked in surprise. That was some serious mojo right there. Finally she stopped coughing, resting her head against his shoulder as the other members of the pack surrounded those on the floor. Steele had sat up, watching the very pale-looking Sanders with an expression of concern. The sparks flying off them held enough warmth to heat the room.

“Cold,” she admitted, and burrowed a little closer. Darce’s heart sang and he brushed his lips against her forehead. His eyes closed for a second. He was clawed and bitten, weak with blood loss and they were all well behind enemy lines. But he couldn’t have cared one jot—wouldn’t trade places with anyone else in the world.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll keep you warm. Forever.” He reached down and picked up her hand, placing it over his heart. “It’s yours. Now and always.” Sudden doubt assailed him and he added, “If you want it, that is…”

She snorted, the soft sound turning his heart over. “Of course I want it, you idiot. I swear, Lycans…all balls and no brains.”

A couple of the wolves around them grumbled but Darce ignored them, the smile already spreading over his face. “Hey, I resemble that remark.”

She looked up and he was lost. Honest emotion—love—shone in her dark eyes. Eyes which now sported a soft ring of amber around the edges. The same color as his wolf.