Embraced By Darkness (Riley Jenson Guardian 5)

The vampire's head rolled to one side, and his body stopped moving.

I was safe but not out of danger. I blew out a breath and pushed into a sitting position. The entire length of my left leg was a mess. Thankfully, the bullet had smashed through the fleshy section, not bone. Blood still pulsed from the wound, and with my jeans already saturated, there was nowhere else for the blood to go but on the ground. And the pool was spreading fast.

I had to get the bullet out. Had to get help. Fast.

I pressed the corn-link button and said, "I hope to God someone is listening, because I need help."

"We got Kellen's call," Jack said, in a voice that hinted at annoyance. Probably because I had the corn-link off once again. "Rhoan's already on his way, as well as a med team. What's the situation?"

"I've been shot with silver. The vampire is down and out. And I need to get the bullet out."

"Rhoan's two minutes away."

"I'm on the roof above Tivoli's." I sucked in a breath, gathering courage, trying to ease the sick sensation of fear. "And I need this bullet out now."

Already the numbness was beginning. I'd been shot too often with silver in the past, and as a result, I'd developed a hypersensitivity to its presence. For most wolves, there was at least some breathing space before the effects truly started to roll in. But for me, the minute silver lodged in my flesh, my body started reacting. I couldn't afford to wait for help. The numbness, and the creeping death, might have already taken hold by then.

"Riley - " Jack said, concern suddenly overriding the anger.

"Boss, give me five, I need to remove this bullet."

I took another deep breath, and released it slowly. My whole body was shaking with the knowledge of what I was about to do. What I had to do if I wanted to survive. I ripped the sodden jeans away from the wound, to get a clearer view. God, the wound seemed positively huge ...

Probably just as well. It gave me plenty of room to maneuver.

Giving myself no more time to think, I stiffened two fingers then drove them into the wound's opening. Deep into my own flesh. Heat flashed white-hot through my entire body and a scream tore through me, only to lodge somewhere in my throat. Sweat became a torrent pouring down my face and suddenly I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, could only feel. And it hurt. Oh God, how it hurt.

I hissed, panting for air, as I forced my fingers deeper, feeling past muscles and sinew, searching for the bullet lodged deep in my leg. Again heat flashed through me and black oblivion threatened. I fought the tears and the pain, trying to stay awake and aware. Then I touched the bullet, shifted it, and I screamed again. But somehow, I got my fingers around it. Somehow, I pulled it free of flesh. With the little strength I had left, I opened my hand and let the bullet roll away, then called to the wolf within. Shifting shape would at least stop the bleeding, even if it didn't immediately heal the wound. With the bullet gone, the bleeding and fierce burning stopped. All that remained were nausea and weakness.

And then, finally, the utterly peaceful bliss of unconsciousness.

"Riley?"

The voice invaded the black peace of unconsciousness, and recognition stirred. Rhoan. If he was here, I was safe from whoever else might come after me.

I mumbled something unintelligent then turned away from him, not ready to surface just yet. Not ready to face the pain and nausea that undoubtedly awaited.

"Riley? We're taking you to the hospital. Even though the bleeding has stopped, you've lost too much blood."

"No hospital," I murmured, but the words didn't seem to reach my lips.

"The medics are here now. I'll come with you."

"No hospital," I said again, and wasn't sure if the words hit my lips that time or not. Because everything faded again.

When I finally woke, it was to the smell of antiseptic. Never a pleasant aroma at the best of times, but when it's accompanied by an underlying note of sickness and disease, it just became a gut-churning stench.

I hated hospitals. Always had. But it wasn't just the smells that got to me - it was the death. The feeling that the dead awaited. Even when I couldn't speak to the dead, the awareness of them in places like this had haunted me.

But thankfully, there was another scent overpowering those hospital smells, and it was all warm spice and leather. A scent I could concentrate on, depend on, A scent I'd recognize anywhere.

"Bastard," I muttered, opening my eyes to look at my brother. There were dark rings under his eyes and his lips had that bloodless look vampires tended to get when they hadn't been eating properly. He mightn't be wholly vampire, but he sure as hell looked like one right now. Thankfully, he was never likely to smell like one - even on his sweatiest days. "You took me to the hospital. I told you not to."

"You," Rhoan said tartly, voice sounding a whole lot fresher than he looked, "were muttering all sorts of things, and not one of them made sense."

"You could have guessed. You know I detest hospitals."

"I also knew you needed one. There was blood everywhere."