Base Instincts by Larissa Ione Read Free Book Online

Vladlena . . . Fayle.
    Oh gods, no.
    The acrid stench of death made him gag as he stepped over chunks of jagged debris, his palm sweating all over the handle of the medic bag he’d grabbed from UGH.
    Chaos ruled the scene, chaos and charred bricks and twisted, mangled metal. Sirens and screams rent the air, which was thick with black, ashy smoke that stung his eyes and nostrils. New York City emergency responders scrambled to treat the humans who had been caught in the blast that had ripped apart both Thirst and the strictly human club that served as its front.
    Nate, wasn’t stupid, though, and he’d already deployed the mystics he kept on staff to alter human memories when needed. The last thing anyone wanted was a paramedic or cop coming across injured demons or discovering a vampire club in their own human backyard.
    “Damn.” Slake’s soft voice came from right next to Raze, but somehow it seemed distant, as if there was no place for anything here but screams.
    “Come on,” he barked, sprinting toward Thirst’s blast-warped side door.
    A few feet away, one of the mystics, Jen, was doing her, These aren’t the droids you’re looking for thing to a firefighter who had been heading toward the same door, now visible to humans thanks to a failure in the concealment spell that kept the place hidden from human eyes.
    Inside was . . . shit. Smoke clogged the air and soot covered the destroyed furniture, walls, and every piece of broken glass that littered the floor next to the bodies of the dead and injured.
    Pained moans and cries for help spurred Raze into action. Heart pounding, he frantically searched the victims, hoping his friends weren’t among them. Hoping Fayle wasn’t among them. She generally avoided the club, preferring to collect the sexual energy she needed to survive from quieter sources. But every once in a while, if she needed a quick fix, the club offered sexual vibes in spades.
    As he kneeled next to a goat-demon and pressed his palm against a spurting wound in the male’s furry leg, he heard a female voice call out his name, and he gave a mental sigh of relief.
    “Raze.” Fayle stood near the destroyed medic station, her face pale, but she was otherwise unharmed. “I was in the apartment when I heard the blast. What can I do?”
    She was useless around blood, fainting at the sight of anything more than a paper cut, but it was cool of her to offer. “Go back to the apartment and wait for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “What about me?” Slake called out from where he was crouched over one of the vampire waitresses, Ava, as she rested against a wall, her mangled arm held protectively against her chest. “What do you need me to do?”
    Raze eyed Slake, the bulge of weapons beneath his jacket, and wondered what the guy did for a living. Somehow, Raze suspected Slake was more likely to be the person who caused injuries than fixed them.
    “Get Ava to Underworld General Clinic. All the walking wounded need to go there. We’ll let the hospital handle the critical patients.” He increased pressure on his patient’s wound while he used his other hand to gesture to his medic bag. “And grab some triage tags and black flag any DRT you come across.”
    “DRT?”
    Right. Slake wouldn’t understand the medical slang. “Dead Right There. Deceased,” he clarified. “Tag ’em as you come across them. It’ll save medical personnel time.” And it would give Slake something useful to do while he searched for walking wounded to escort to the clinic.
    Slake leaped into action as Raze turned back to his patient. “Hey, buddy,” he said in his calmest medic voice. “What’s your name?”
    “B-Blead.”
    “Like bleed,” Raze said, keeping his tone light. The guy was going to be okay, but without Raze, he’d bleed out. “What you’re doing right now.”
    “Funny . . . guy,” Blead gasped, his goatlike snout wrinkling as a wave of pain wracked him.
    Quickly, Raze engaged his