The Darkest Kiss (Riley Jenson Guardian 6)

"Shock," Quinn said. "Has the kit got sterile bandages?"

My fingers were shaking so hard it took several attempts to open the kit. "Yes," I said, looking at him.

"Open it and give one to me."

I did, adding, "It's moist."

"Perfect." He covered the leaking intestines with it. "Is there a large abdominal or universal dressing in there?"

"There's a thick bandage."

"That'll do."

A scream hit the air, a thick sound of pain that went on and on, and vaguely sounded like words. My eyes, my eyes...

Rhoan, still bent on revenge. I closed my eyes and said, "Rhoan, end it. Liander needs you here." I looked up at Quinn. "There's an ambulance on its way."

"Then get up there, and get them down here fast." His voice was grim. "We need to get him to a hospital."

I got up and turned around. Saw Rhoan grab Young by the neck and snap it sideways. There was a crack and Young went limp. Not a killing blow, because broken necks didn't kill vampires outright, but it was certainly disabling.

I closed my eyes. "Finish it, Rhoan."

He looked at me briefly, his bloodied face free of emotion, his gaze still that of a killer. Then he turned, grabbed a stake, and plunged it into Young's heart. Young screamed, but the sound was abruptly cut off as blue fire erupted from the wound, spreading rapidly across Young's body, consuming and destroying.

Rhoan watched dispassionately for a moment, then turned away. His gaze went past me and his face crumbled, and suddenly he was sobbing and running toward Liander.

I resisted the instinct to grab him, comfort him, and ran to find the only hope Liander had.

Chapter 11

Twenty-four hours later, I was sitting in a waiting room in a Melbourne hospital, holding my brother's hand and hoping for the best.

Liander had lost a lot of blood and was now in emergency surgery to fix cuts to both his bowel and small intestines. He might be a werewolf, but there were some wounds that even a werewolf needed help to heal.

Rhoan hadn't said a word since we'd arrived. Other than acknowledging Liander's parents as they'd come in, he simply held my hand and stared at the wall, a blank expression on his face.

Not allowing himself to think.

Not allowing himself to feel.

In some ways, the very lack of emotion scared me, simply because I knew it was all there, bottled up, ready to explode should the worst happen. And I wasn't entirely sure the four of us would be able to contain his wrath and grief if Liander did slip away.

I hoped Ben was right. Hoped that he wasn't an exception to the rule, and that losing a soul mate didn't necessarily mean death. I didn't want to lose my brother - and especially not like this.

I swallowed the bitter taste of fear and pushed the negative thoughts away. Liander would live. He'd promised, and he wasn't a man to make such promises lightly.

Quinn came back into the waiting room, a tray of coffees in his hands. He placed it down on the small table in front of us, then offered one to Liander's parents. Yann, a heavier-set version of Liander himself, shook his head, but Raina - another silver wolf - accepted a cup gratefully, a small smile of thanks breaking the worry etched into her lined features.

Quinn held a cup out to me and I took it gratefully, sipping at the hot liquid and wincing a little at its bitter taste. Hospital coffee was on par with the muck we got at work.

"Rhoan?" Quinn said, offering him one of the remaining plastic mugs.

"No, thanks."

"Rhoan - " I said, but he cut in sharply.

"No!"