A sudden ache stabbed at her, as if a knife had just been plunged into her stomach, and twisted. She sucked in a sharp breath and her nails sank into Ryder’s arms.
Her nails . . . her nails were turning black.
He bit me. The primal . . .
“Sabine?”
She pushed at Ryder. “It’s . . . happening.” The virus—whatever the hell it was—it was in her. She could feel it. Twisting. Cutting. She ran her tongue over her teeth. They felt normal, but her nails . . .
She held up her hands. “It’s happening,” she said again.
His face blanched. “No, no, it’s f**king not.”
Her gaze met his. She was so glad she’d taken the pleasure with him. So glad that they’d stopped in the rain.
The rain . . .
It was just a sprinkle now.
“You promised you’d help me,” Sabine reminded him. She fumbled, adjusting her clothes.
He had to help her.
But his face had locked into tortured lines. “I’m not killing you.”
The knife was stabbing her again. “It . . . hurts, Ryder.”
He shook her. “We can stop it.” He laced his fingers with hers. “Come on. Genesis made them. We can fix them. Hell, Wyatt said that you were the key—”
She wanted to tell Ryder that she felt more than lust for him.
But she couldn’t seem to speak. The stabbing was gone, but she felt as if she were burning up from the inside. Burning .
A moan slipped from her.
Ryder lifted her into his arms. “Hold on, love.” He started running then, moving so fast. “Please, hold on.”
Her vampire.
The fire built within her. Burning more. Hotter. Her hands curled around his neck. If she changed, he wouldn’t kill her. Sabine knew that.
Because she also knew, though he’d never said the words . . .
He loves me.
Which was only fair, since Sabine was sure that she loved her dark vampire.
Loved him and was very, very afraid that she might soon turn on him.
The others had no control. They killed.
Her black nails dug into his skin. Her teeth began to ache.
I don’t want to hurt him.
But when she turned fully primal, her control might not last.
It wasn’t midnight. Not even eleven o’clock yet. Ryder didn’t give a f**k. He kicked down the door at 49 Chartres, and when the humans turned toward him, he bellowed, “Adams! Keith Adams!”
Keith came running, his eyes wide. As soon as he got a good look at Ryder, and the woman lying so still in his arms, Keith stumbled to a halt. “Sabine?”
Ryder’s hold on her tightened. “One of the primals bit her. I thought . . . I thought the bite wouldn’t change her.”
“But it is.” A woman’s voice.
Keith backed up.
Ryder saw the woman walking toward him. Her hair hung in a long braid. Her eyes—green, focused—were on Sabine. “The virus is pushing through her body now.”
Clinical. “You’re the doctor Keith mentioned.”
She nodded. “My name’s Cassie, and I’m here to help you.”
He stalked toward her. “Don’t help me. Help her.”
Cassie’s stare drifted over Sabine. Worry flashed on her face. “Bring her to the next room. There’s a table in there that we can use.”
Ryder followed her, hurrying inside the small room. Keith shoved some papers off the table, and carefully, Ryder put Sabine on the table. He took her hand. Wanted to roar when he saw the dark nails.
The woman—Cassie—reached into a black bag.
Ryder swiped out with his left hand and caught her fingers. “She’s been sliced open enough.”
He saw the pulse jump in her throat. “Please, I-I’m not like Wyatt and the others at Genesis.”
But he didn’t believe her. There were secrets in her eyes. Lies.
“I just . . . I need to check her blood. Get it under a microscope.” She had a needle in her hand. “I need to see what’s happening on a deeper level.”
Sabine moaned. “Burning . . .”
Cassie frowned down at her. “How long ago was she bitten?”
“Thirty minutes.” He rubbed his fingers over her knuckles. Her nails. Shit, they were . . .
Not as dark.
His breath stilled in his lungs.
Cassie leaned over Sabine and looked into her mouth. “Her teeth aren’t changing.”
No.
He lifted her hand. He could see the pink in her nails now.
He could actually breathe again. Whatever was happening in Sabine’s body, she was fighting off the attack.