The third bullet was next. He had to dig deeper to get it. Still, Jane didn’t cry out. She was statue still beneath him. No anesthesia, no drugs at all. Just feeling the pain that he gave to her.
He wanted to kill those bastards in that alley all over again.
The fourth bullet was the hardest to get. Nausea swirled in him because he had to cut her so deeply to get it out. Her breath rasped out and another tear slid down her cheek. His fingers were shaking worse and he was afraid—
“I love you, Aidan,” Jane whispered.
She trusted him with her life.
He got that bullet out. Flung it across the room. Then he was putting his wrist back to her mouth. “Drink, now.” Because his blood was special. Sure, all werewolf blood was strong, downright delicious for a vamp, but…
An alpha werewolf’s blood could heal like no other.
Jane’s lips pressed to his pulse. Her little fangs slid into his skin. His eyes closed as he released a slow breath. Jane was alive. Jane was okay. Jane was safe…again. She drank from him and he bent his head, relief surging through him. His Jane. His fucking Jane.
Right then, he wanted to pull her close. To hold her against his heart and know that she was safe.
And after that…
He wanted to beat her sweet ass.
She’d told him that she was just going for a walk. A fucking walk. How had a walk turned into that blood bath?
Her tongue licked over his wrist. She pressed a soft kiss to his hand. “Thank you.” The words were soft, husky. He knew sleep pulled at her. She’d heal while she slept.
His fingers slid over her cheek, wiping away the tears. “When you wake up, we’re talking.”
Her long lashes cast a shadow over her cheek.
“You’re not doing this shit again,” Aidan growled. “You can’t risk yourself like this. I won’t allow it.” He was the alpha in the city. The one who controlled all the paranormals. And as of very, very recently…Jane was no longer human.
She was a paranormal, just like the others under his command.
Whether she liked it or not, she had to follow his orders.
And order number one for his beautiful Jane…
Don’t get hurt. Because her pain gutted him.
A sharp knock sounded at his office door. He knew only one wolf would have the balls to see him right then, only one guy would have been able to get past the guards below—Aidan’s first in command, Paris Cole.
Jane’s breathing was deep, easy. Humans thought vampires didn’t breathe—that they were cold. That their hearts didn’t beat. But that was all bullshit. Hollywood hype. Vampires breathed. Their hearts beat. They lived.
Their deaths were fleeting. They came back, stronger, far more powerful than ever.
He turned and headed for the door. Jane’s blood was still on his hands when he yanked that door open. Paris stood there, one brow raised and curiosity glinting in his golden eyes. The tall, African American wolf was dressed in a tux, and he looked as far from a beast as it was possible to get.
Then Paris inhaled and his gaze dropped to focus on the blood that coated Aidan’s hands. “What happened?”
“An ambush.” He stepped back so that his best friend could enter the office. At least, that was what it had looked like to him. Jane went for a walk and wound up nearly dead.
“Someone tried to take you on?” Paris demanded as he crossed the threshold.
“No.” Aidan shook his head. “Someone tried to take out Jane.”
Paris’s gaze immediately cut toward the couch—and a heavily sleeping Jane. Her back was still bare and bloody. “Sonofabitch.” His hands tightened into fists. “I’m assuming the fools are dead?”
“Good assumption.” Aidan nodded. “And I’ll be taking a team out to the alley because I want to personally search the scene. They had wooden bullets. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did…” But he stopped because he wasn’t going to finish that sentence.
He felt his friend’s gaze on him. Once more, Paris inhaled and then he said, voice halting, “All of the blood isn’t hers.”
No.
“You were shot,” Paris added.
He’d barely felt the pain. Now, he just shoved his claws into his gut and pulled out the two bullets. “Wood, not silver. They were for her, not me.” He’d just been in the way so the blond bastard had fired at him.
But Jane? Those two had wanted to kill her.
Paris gave a low whistle. “Okay, the way I see it…we have a few very big problems.” He paced toward the couch. Toward Jane. He put his hands on his hips as he stared down at her sleeping form. “Problem one…Jane’s secret is out. Obviously, there are people who know exactly what your girlfriend is.”
Vampire. Only Jane hadn’t been a vamp, not until a few days before. Then her human life had ended and—well, shit, they were still adjusting to the change.
His pack was adjusting.
He was adjusting.
So the hell was she.
Normally, vamps and werewolves were natural enemies. When a werewolf scented a vampire, the primitive instinct to attack, to kill, took over. As an alpha werewolf, Aidan should have immediately killed Jane when she turned.
But he hadn’t.