Primal Law

by Tyler, J. D.

  “And if he’s alive, or was . . .” Ryon trailed off, looking shell-shocked.

  Nick finished. “Then where are the others? I don’t have all the answers, but we’re going to get them.” A groan from one of the freed shifters brought them back to reality. “Unfortunately we won’t get them tonight. We have to go.”

  As they made their way out and up the staircase once more, an unpleasant niggle teased Kira’s mind. But fear, the urge to escape from this hellhole intact overrode the niggle before it could form into a thought. She’d have to examine it later.

  They made it back to the HIGH VOLTAGE room above without incident. Luck had been with them so far, but it ran out just as they entered the bright corridor and approached the lab they’d looted earlier. Another security guard and three armed men in suits burst from the lab, apparently having discovered the intrusion. They froze, momentarily thrown by A.J.’s presence in the lead.

  “Stone? What the fuck are you doing?” the other guard barked.

  “What does it look like? Giving my friends a tour of the building,” he sneered in return.

  “They got the prisoners!” one of the suits, a fat man with a ring of hair encircling his balding pate, shouted. “Kill ’em!”

  The security guard who’d spoken looked thoroughly confused, and clearly had no clue what the hell was going on. The suits did, though, and brought their guns up.

  Jax shoved Kira behind him and down to the floor as shots rang out, deafening in the confined space. Aric and Ryon dropped into a crouch, shielding their charges with their bodies. Dropping to one knee, A.J. returned fire, putting a bullet in the center of one goon’s forehead while Jax, Zan, and Nick shifted in midrun, going for the other two.

  Bullets struck bodies, ricocheted off the walls. Sprawled on her stomach, arms over her head, Kira didn’t have the best view but she saw enough. Three wolves ran right out of their pants, boots, and socks, straight for the two men who were still firing, eyes going wide at the unbelievable sight.

  The black and silver wolves took down the fat man with relative ease. The black wolf—Zan—went for his throat, and his high-pitched scream was abruptly cut off, ending in a sickening gurgle. Next to them, the big white wolf had the other suit down, the body twitching underneath his bulk.

  Crouching, the silver wolf raised his head and fixed his steely gaze on the security guard, who’d slid down the wall and was staring at the carnage. Fur retracted, limbs reshaped, but Jax didn’t shift back all the way. Instead, he remained at half-shift, muscular body huge, long muzzle pulled back into a snarl, revealing deadly canines. A terrifying and awesome sight, especially to the blubbering guard.

  “You,” Jax said, his voice rough as gravel. Deliberately, he pointed one four-inch claw at the horrified young man. “Do I need to take care of you next?”

  The guard was so stricken with terror, he hadn’t even drawn his weapon. A dark stain spread across his crotch. “N-no! I d-don’t know wh-what the fuck’s g-goin’ on and I d-don’t care! Just don’t eat me, please!”

  Jax tilted his head, as though considering the request. “Then here’s what you’re going to do. Wait fifteen minutes after we’re gone and then tell your boss you found these guys just like this. You didn’t see a damned thing. Then if I were you, I’d put in my resignation and move far, far away. Got that?”

  “Y-yeah! Shit, I got it!” The guard nodded emphatically, but didn’t move.

  Jax looked to Kira. “He telling the truth?”

  For a second she was surprised, and then a little spurt of pride went through her. He was treating her like a team member, asking for her help as an Empath. Trusting her judgment, and in front of the others.

  She opened her senses to the guard and was battered by waves of fear, confusion. Hope. He only wanted to make it out alive.

  “Yes, he is. There’s no deception in him.”

  “Then he lives.” Jax stood and retrieved his pants, completing his shift to human form. “We’re out of here.”

  Then he lives. Simple as that. Based on her perception of the jumble of feelings rolling off him, the guard would walk away. The power of that idea was frightening.

  Jax offered her a hand up and she took it, averting her eyes while Nick and Aric yanked on their camos, shoved their feet into the discarded boots. In seconds they were ready to continue, the whole horrible episode having taken less than five minutes.

  With a quick peek, she saw everyone was decent. Zan was wiping a seeping bullet wound in his side with the edge of his T-shirt, grimacing in pain.

  “You all right?” Nick asked sharply.

  “Think so. It’s a through-and-through. I’m already healing,” he replied. He was a little out of breath, but standing on his own.

  Nick looked around. “Anyone else? I know I heard at least one other hit.”

  “Took one high in the chest,” Jax muttered. His face was pale, sweat rolling down his temples.

  “What?” Kira gasped. “Let me see.”

  He shook his head. “No time. Mac can take a look in the van.”

  “Are you healing?” Nick’s voice was tight with concern.

  “Not sure.”

  Which wasn’t an answer. Eyeing his chest, she spotted the small hole in the dark fabric on the left side, barely noticeable. On closer inspection, she could see wetness spreading on his shirt, and it didn’t seem to be slowing any. A chill shook her. When he’d rescued her from the two men that first time, he’d been hit and had healed almost instantly. And again, when he and Aric had fought, their scratches and bites had vanished quickly.

  He wasn’t healing now. With every step they took to the elevator, and then across the parking garage, making their escape, he slowed. When they reached the hole in the fence, his limp was worse than ever, he was breathing hard, and his friends were exchanging worried looks. His shirt was almost completely soaked with blood, and the front of his cammos was fast becoming saturated. He stumbled and Zan was there, slinging Jax’s right arm over his shoulders, half-carrying him.

  Halfway to the van, his knees buckled, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Shit!” Zan caught him as he collapsed, lifting him into a fireman’s hold.

  “You got him?” Kalen asked as they reached the mouth of the alley where he and Hammer were waiting.

  “Yep. Damn, he’s heavy though.”

  They were moving fast and Kira had to jog to keep up. Fear gripped her by the throat and wouldn’t let go. He hadn’t felt well to start with, but he’d insisted on coming anyway. And now he’d been shot and couldn’t heal.

  Because of me?

  If that was true, if she caused the death of the man she loved, she’d never forgive herself.

  The man I love. Oh, my God, I love him. He’s my mate. Mine.

  And he can’t die.

  Back at the vehicles, the two doctors met them, faces grim but determined. The scene took on a surreal quality as the sick pair of shifters were loaded into the SUV with Dr. Mallory, Ryon, and Aric. Kalen helped Zander get Jax into the van, and once inside, Zan refused to let go of his best friend. Kira crouched in the back, close enough to hold her mate’s clammy hand, but giving Mac room to work. Tears sprang to her eyes, rolled down her cheeks.

  “Jax?”

  No response. He lay horribly still as Mac cut his shirt up the middle and parted the flaps, exposing the wound. Blood was streaming from the hole located high on the left side of his chest, inches above the nipple, close to the collarbone.

  “I’m pretty sure the bullet missed his lung,” the doc said. The relief in the vehicle was tangible. Quickly she checked his back, and put a damper on the good news. “But it’s still in his chest and he’s losing too much blood.”

  “Let me do my thing.” Placing a hand over the wound, Zan pressed down firmly. A blue-tinted glow lit his hand, and Kalen sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

  “You’re a Healer?”

  “Yes, but it’s not working.” Zan, holding his friend’s h
ead in his lap, removed his bloodied palm and swallowed hard. “Why the hell isn’t he healing, Mac?”

  “I’ve got a theory, but it’s privileged information.”

  “What? That’s bullshit! Is he dying or something?” Zan barked at the doctor, dread stamped on his handsome features.

  “Or something,” she agreed, her gaze flicking briefly to Kira.

  Who felt like a steaming pile of shit.

  “He’ll recover, though. Right?” Zan asked.

  After a pause, Mac nodded. “I believe so.”

  “You believe so? What the—”

  “Easy, man.” Kalen touched Zan’s shoulder. “Let the doc get to work so she can help your friend. Okay?”

  For a few seconds, Zan visibly struggled with himself, perhaps to keep from snarling at the newcomer. In the end, however, he just sagged against the side of the van. “You’re right.”

  Mac kept working, placing a pressure bandage on the wound. Next she hooked up an IV, and Kalen held the bag of fluid aloft for her. “Thank you.”

  “No sweat,” he said softly.

  Kira wiped the tears with her shirt, but they wouldn’t stop coming. She’d never felt so helpless. And the guilt ate her guts like a worm pushing through rotten soil. She clung to Jax’s hand, brushing the rough skin with her thumb, contemplating whether his team would blame her for this.

  But they couldn’t possibly hate her more than she hated herself.

  His sternum had been cracked open with a rusty screwdriver and a mallet, liquid fire poured into the cavity.

  He opened his mouth to yell, or thought he did, but couldn’t make a sound. Nothing worked the way it should. He knew where he was, though. In the speeding van, head in someone’s lap, every bump in the road jarring his pain-racked body. A small, feminine hand held one of his tightly. Kira.

  “Jax?”

  He knew it was her, but he couldn’t scent her anymore. Couldn’t speak or move at all, not even to squeeze her fingers, let her know he was alive.

  For how much longer?

  Goddamn, he didn’t want to go out like this. He struggled to breathe, thinking it shouldn’t be this hard. When he’d been hit, he was certain the bullet had missed his lung. It had, right? He’d been shot before, and the wound should’ve healed with no problem.

  Instead he lay as if dead, along for the ride, unable to communicate in the slightest. He was aware of Kira and a couple of other voices speaking to him in soothing tones, telling him that he’d be all right. He tried to take heart, to push back the encroaching fear, but wasn’t entirely successful. Something was very wrong, besides the gunshot wound. The talking around him grew even more worried as the vehicle stopped and doors opened.

  People were shouting. His body was jostled and he couldn’t cry out.

  Something hard slid underneath him. A backboard.

  Then he was out of the van, being carried fast. Loaded into another transport. He remembered the helicopters and realized they must be at the hangar. Two hours to home.

  And the truth flooded in—he wasn’t going to make it.

  It shouldn’t be possible, but it was becoming a reality. His body was shutting down, like the lights in a house winking out one by one. He hung on as long as he could. Counted in his head, and when he lost count, tried to concentrate on the loud drone of the engines. Imagined the compound getting closer with every mile, whisking him to safety.

  “Breathe, Jax! Come on, buddy!” Zan shouted next to his ear.

  “Jax? Please, stay with us.” Kira. He heard her tears. “Don’t leave me.”

  He tried to obey. Really fucking tried.

  Made it all the way to landing before their frantic calls began to fade. His last awareness was of being lifted, flying. Wishing he could see the stars, shift into his wolf, and run.

  Make love to Kira.

  And then it all vanished into mist.

  “He’s not breathing? Mac!”

  Kira bailed out of the helicopter after the doctor. Zan and Kalen were already out, holding each end of the backboard, hurrying up the walk toward an entrance marked EMERGENCY. The other woman didn’t answer or spare her a glance, just ran, shouting orders at the nurses and other medical personnel who met them at the double doors.

  Heart pounding in fear, Kira rushed after them. She would’ve followed them all the way into the ER had strong arms not wrapped around her waist, hauling her back.

  “You can’t go in there, honey,” Nick said, voice full of regret.

  “Let me go!”

  “Can’t do that. He’s in good hands, though, I promise.”

  “He needs me! Nick, please.”

  “I’m sorry.” Gently, he guided her to a chair. “Come on, I’ll wait with you.”

  “We all will,” Aric declared, dropping into a seat. Obviously he and the others had handed off the two survivors they’d liberated from the NewLife building, but she hadn’t been paying attention.

  After a moment, she calmed herself enough to ask, “Are the two shifters okay?”

  “They’ll make it, physically. The rest, we’ll see, but I think they’ll pull through.”

  She nodded. “That’s good.”

  The respite was brief and took her mind off Jax for only about three seconds. The team crowded into the waiting area, none of them willing to leave without word. Zan and Kalen walked back in from the OR, faces weary. A barrage of questions from the guys was met with little info, none of it encouraging.

  “He wasn’t breathing,” Zan choked, dropping into a chair, head in his hands. “That’s all I know.”

  “Jesus,” Hammer mumbled in shock.

  Aric responded by putting a hole in the wall with his fist and letting go a stream of profanity. The others just moped. Someone went for coffee.

  Time passed. Kira wasn’t sure how long it had been when Sariel strode into the room, heading straight for her. Jumping up, she launched herself into his arms. He caught her against his chest and enfolded her in his wings, and the dam broke. She sobbed in terror, babbling that she couldn’t lose him.

  “You won’t, dearest.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I swear to you.”

  “H-how do you know?”

  “I just do. Now dry those tears, or else your wolf is going to be treated to the lovely vision of a puffy, blotchy mate when he wakes up.”

  Pulling back, she managed a small laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. What are displaced princes for?”

  It was a lame attempt at a joke, and she loved him for it. Wrung out, she let him tug her over to a chair. At Zan’s urging, he fetched a box of tissues from the front desk—he was puzzled about their purpose at first—handed them over, and settled in beside her for what might prove to be a long wait.

  It was worse than long. Interminable was a better word. Half the team was dozing when both Mac and Melina pushed through the double doors into the waiting area, but everyone immediately snapped to attention.

  Dr. Mallory got to the point. “The two shifters are stable but still unconscious. Jax is also stable at the moment, and the bullet has been removed. But his condition is critical.” She gave Kira a pointed look. “I’ll need you to come with us.”

  “Of course.” She rose on rubbery legs and followed the doctors. Whether either of them was ready or not, she had a suspicion that the moment of reckoning was at hand.

  A sexy silvery-eyed wolf was about to become hers.

  Fourteen

  “Jax, open your eyes.”

  Don’t want to. He preferred to keep sleeping, safe in his cozy cocoon. Besides, hers was the wrong voice. Not the one he loved.

  Wait, loved? Ah, shit.

  “Sweetheart, can you hear me? Come on, handsome. Let’s see those peepers.”

  Kira. For her, he tried. His lids were like wet concrete, but he managed to crack them open a tiny bit. Her small form was leaning over him, blurry. But there. Holding his hand, stroking his brow. So good.

  “I . . . ca
n’t smell you,” he rasped.

  Her touch stilled. “What?”

  “He means his sense of smell is gone,” Melina said. “He can’t scent you.”

  “Oh. What do we do? How do we fix it?” She was so upset, his baby.

  He couldn’t comfort her. Couldn’t move a damned muscle.

  “This is undocumented territory, but I’d like to try something. Are you willing to let me make a small incision in your wrist? I can give you a local anesthetic.” Obviously she was talking to Kira.

  Wait a minute. Melina wanted to cut his angel? Why? Jax tried to growl but only a pathetic whine came out. His eyes closed again.

  “Yes! Anything that will make him well.”

  No! his mind shouted. But his lips wouldn’t budge.

  Noises ensued, the clank of metal on a tray. Melina spoke to his mate, but he couldn’t make out the words. He was tired and he hadn’t even been awake that long. His energy was nonexistent.

  Suddenly a slick finger parted his lips, began to rub his tongue. He sputtered, tried to turn his head away from the latex-covered digit, but the doc held him fast, smearing something wet on his tongue. His gums and canines, too. What the hell?

  Automatically he swallowed, and caught the sweet, earthy taste on his tongue. His initial impression was that it was nice, if kind of weird, and then . . . the effect hit his system like rain in the desert. Warmth flowed to cells and muscles, liquid sunshine. And he knew.

  Melina had given him Kira’s blood. Lifesaving, nourishing blood from his mate. Doing the job that no medicine could hope to perform in pulling him back from the brink. Slowly, he cracked his lids open again, glad to find his vision mostly clear.

  “Hey,” he croaked, giving Kira a lopsided smile.

  “Oh, my God!” Scooting her chair close, she hugged him tight, laying her head on his chest, on his right side, opposite the bullet wound. “I was so worried. Everyone was. Is.”

  Carefully, he brought his arm around her, holding her snug against him. “I’m okay, baby. Don’t cry.”