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Fluids were already pumping full bore.

Machines beeped in a chaotic cacophony as he was hooked up to monitors.

His fingers twitched as she put her hands on his wrist. So slick with blood, she could barely get a grip on him. His pulse was thready.

Helpless to stop his death, but instinct raged to absorb it. To drink in his final moments.

Already craving the heady thrill that awaited her.

This. This is why she did what she did. Why she dedicated her life to countering the violent, putrid instincts. She pushed the fury down and barked orders.

“Where’s the damn surgeon?” she roared, not stopping to wait for an answer.

If she could keep Vann stable long enough for the surgeon to arrive.

Eryn shifted the nurse’s hands from holding pressure over the abdominal wound to see what they were working with.

Breath caught in her chest. Throat tight, she closed her mouth before she vomited. The lacerations were massive. Extensive. Intestines extruded from the wounds.

Before the flatline alarm sounded, she knew.

Instinct screamed. One touch. Tap into that sensation. The finality of it. The rush. Satisfaction. A thirst that needed to be sated.

Paddles were on him.

Eryn ripped her focus from the awful craving and secured the bandage, and jumped back to get clear of the shock.

Nothing.

Again.

A nurse started compressions.

Eryn moved to his head and nuzzled close. She murmured over and over in his ear, for him to stay with her.

That she was sorry.

Clear.

His heart beat again. Again. She looked up at the monitor. Set her hand on his pulse. A single beat tapped against her fingertips.

Instinct roared louder. Glory and satisfaction were a touch away. To drain the last of him. To feel that thrill.

The code team readied to deliver another shock.

Each time his heart stopped, they could renew a few more beats, and squeeze a few last moments again and again, and she could feast on—

Something else pounded hard in her chest, willing his heart to beat. His lungs to breathe. Stronger than the fury that swelled in her veins. Connection. That wholeness she felt whenever he was near.

The comforting feeling surpassed her vile craving.

Palpitations fluttered in her chest. She focused on Vann. On the fire that pumped over his skin when he kissed her. The warmth that encased her every time she touched him.

“Stay with me,” she pleaded softly. “Vann. I’m here. Please.”

A beat tapped under her fingers. Another. An irregular thrill.

Relief flooded her, warmed her deep to her bones, soothed her very soul, as a thready rhythm pulsed in his neck. Even in this state, he fought like hell.