Ryder got busy, while I gently pressed my fingers to the side of Jame’s neck, looking for a pulse.
His heartbeat was thready and uneven. He hadn’t shifted back into human form even though he was unconscious. His survival instinct had taken over, and his body was working hard to heal.
I pulled my fingers away from his neck. They were tacky with blood.
“Here.” Ryder held out a kerchief.
I took it and pressed it against Jame’s neck. That wound was the only one still leaking blood that I could find. I knew what had caused it. It was a bite. A puncture made by two fangs.
A vampire bite.
Jame’s breathing changed and his eyes slitted open, amber burning through.
“Jame,” I asked gently, “where’s Ben?”
He snarled and showed teeth, but it was all he could manage. He lay there, staring at me, eyes like fire, chest rising and falling with shallow little jerks.
I scanned the area again. Didn’t see any sign of Ben. “Check inside the shop.” I told Ryder. “Be careful.”
I had a moment to worry if I should have sent Ryder in there. I hoped he wasn’t kidding about carrying his gun. Mine was in the Jeep, and there was every chance whoever had done this to Jame was still around.
There was also every chance that whoever had done this to Jame couldn’t be stopped by a gun.
I shifted on my feet, reluctant to move out of Jame’s line of vision. When I moved away, intending to check on Ryder, Jame whined and tried to reach out for me, which made him moan even more painfully.
“I’m right here,” I said, holding the cloth to his neck. “I won’t leave.”
He worked his mouth. I knew he was trying to tell me something but with all his teeth and panting, it was impossible to sort out anything close to actual words.
The 911 call would go straight to Myra and Jean too, so they were on their way. But I needed someone else. I need Rossi.
I tugged my phone from my pocket and dialed Rossi one-handed.
“Delaney,” he said, drawing out my name.
“Where’s Ben?”
Silence. One heartbeat. Two.
“He’s not in Ordinary,” Rossi breathed. “I can’t feel him in Ordinary.”
“I just found Jame at the Flying Tackle. He’s hurt. There’s blood. I need you to tell me whose blood this belongs to.”
The phone line went dead.
We were about fifteen minutes outside of Ordinary. Rossi lived toward the south end of town. In a car it might take him twenty minutes to reach us.
But he didn’t need a car.
Less than a minute passed before Rossi came striding up through the trees, his dark hair loose around his face, eyes red with anger.
He paused, just the slightest hesitation, before he was within arm distance, his black boots not quite touching the puddle of blood and rainwater surrounding Jame.
“Whose blood is it?” I asked.
“Ben’s.”
The word was growled so low, I almost didn’t hear it. But Jame heard it. He whined again, his hand spasming as he tried to move.
Rossi’s head jerked once, eyes going wide, then narrow as he took in the symbols.
“It’s the same as Sven, isn’t it?” I asked.
He knelt next to me, long fingers surprisingly gentle as he removed my hand from the cloth at Jame’s neck.
His nostrils flared as he stared at the bite there.
“Is that bite from Ben?” I was afraid of his answer but needed to hear it.
“No.”
Hell. “What happens when a vampire bites someone else’s boyfriend?”
“War.”
The thin wail of an approaching ambulance filled the air, and just behind it, around it, punching through it like needles through thick cloth, was the howling of wolves.
Jame’s family, his clan, his pack, all the Wolfes in Ordinary were coming, calling, howling for their own.
Chapter 17
It was controlled chaos. The Wolfes had arrived just before the ambulance, my sisters, and about a dozen of the Rossi clan.
Jean had quickly told Dave, the owner of the bait shop, that he needed to be closed for the day, promised an update as soon as she had it, and sent him home in his truck.
Dave hadn’t had a chance to see Jame, since the ambulance, Jean’s truck, and Myra’s cruiser were strategically parked to block anyone’s view.
Myra had cordoned off the scene of the crime, stringing yellow police tape like a particularly industrious spider.
My job was to try to keep the werewolves and vampires from killing each other.
Rossi and Granny both held tight to their human forms, so much so that I almost didn’t notice Rossi’s red or Granny’s hot silver eyes.
When the wolves had arrived, in wolf form, a wall of gray and black and mottled brown, heavily furred, some big, some lean, but all of them killers, defenders, brothers/sisters/pack, I’d let them surround Jame.
Yes, it meant there was probably going to be a loss of evidence with the wolves walking through the blood and gravel.
But I’d dare anyone to stand in the way of a pack that wanted to get to their fallen brother.
I just hoped Ryder’s pictures would give us what we needed to find the bastard who had done this.
Rossi had had the sense to back off a little ways while the wolves circled Jame, whining, growling, trying to lick, but wincing from the taste of the blood while snarling with ears flattened and tails tucked.
Granny Wolfe wasn’t the biggest wolf of the pack, but there was no doubt she was the alpha. Her fur was black with streaks of gray, and she sniffed around Jame, bared her huge teeth, then paced over to Rossi and stopped in front of him.
She shifted from wolf to human so quickly, it looked fluid and painless, like her bones and body hadn’t just gone from one state to another in a painfully fast three seconds.
Then she was standing there, naked, in front of Rossi, fury on her face, her hands at her sides in loose fists, like she was trying to keep her claws from popping out.
Short, naked, and petite, Granny’s body didn’t show her age. She radiated power. Her body was lean and lightly muscled beneath tanned skin that seemed painted on over sinew and bone.
Rossi’s eyes never left her face. He pulled off the loose sweatshirt he was wearing, revealing the plain black tank top beneath. His muscled arms were swoon-worthy if one was into ancient ex-soldier vampires. He held the sweatshirt out to her.
She stared at him, never deviating her gaze to the proffered sweater.
She crossed her arms, making it loud and clear that she’d rather stand there naked in the rain, than accept a piece of clothing offered by a vampire.
Crap. The last thing I needed was the uncertain peace between the vamps and weres to turn into a certain war.
“Granny?” Myra walked up to the pile of wolves and around them, giving enough room so they only followed her with their eyes instead of lunging toward her. “I brought you a blanket.”
Granny took the blanket from her, not looking away from Rossi.
“You dare think you can claim one of mine?” she snarled.
The blanket hung from her hand, and every muscle in her body was bunching up. Twitching, coiling with the need to attack.