Base Instincts by Larissa Ione Read Free Book Online Page A

healing power to reduce the guy’s bleeding. Energy surged through his arm, running along his dermoire in a pulsing tingle instead of a steady buzz. Son of a bitch, he was running low on juice after six busy hours at the hospital.
    Instead of doing a full heal, he did a partial, enough to keep the guy alive until one of the uninjured staff members could escort Blead to one of Underworld General’s facilities.
    For the rest of the afternoon, he was forced to use his gift sparingly, moving from patient to patient to triage and heal the most severe and life-threatening injuries so that the other arriving UG medical staff could treat and transport to the hospital.
    He hated triage. Always had. Every instinct in him screamed for him to heal his patients, to stay with them until he was confident they were out of danger. But mass casualty situations didn’t allow for that, and he lost track of the number of times he had to pause for a few seconds to rein in his frustration.
    He also lost track of time as he worked. Every once in a while he’d catch sight of Slake as he helped rescuers haul heavy debris off victims or offered comfort to the injured. Once, Slake even saved a life by tying a tourniquet around a human’s leg that had been blown off at the knee. Where Slake had found the rope he’d used, Raze had no idea, but it was good thinking.
    A couple of times, Raze found himself admiring the way Slake handled the situation with confidence and authority, while still obeying orders from rescue personnel. Impressive, how he was able to keep his ego in check. Raze had figured Slake to be the kind of muscle-bound, arrogant warrior who would balk at taking instruction. So he was hot and smart.
    Knock it off. You’re only setting yourself up for disaster.
    Not to mention that he kept drooling over another male in the middle of a disaster. So. Damned. Inappropriate.
    Cursing himself, Raze wiped his brow on his sleeve and got back to it. The frantic pace of the emergency finally wound down as evening settled in, but as he helped another of Wraith and Eidolon’s brothers, a paramedic named Shade, wheel a patient out to the waiting ambulance, he heard Slake shout for help.
    He ran back inside, but he didn’t see Slake anywhere among the scorched and mangled debris. “Where are you?”
    “Over here!”
    Raze threaded his way to the far corner of the building and found Slake kneeling behind an overturned table, his voice low and soothing as he spoke to someone Raze couldn’t see. When he got closer, Raze’s heart stuttered at the sight of a female form lying on the floor, her lower half crushed beneath a massive section of wall. Slake was holding a frail hand in one palm as he tenderly brushed long brunette hair out of the female’s blood-streaked face.
    Lexi.
    “It’ll be okay,” Slake murmured, his tone hesitant and awkward, as if he wasn’t used to promising hope. “I won’t leave you. I swear.”
    Lexi’s golden-brown eyes were glazed with pain and shock, but she locked onto Slake’s gaze with the fierceness that only a lion shifter could manage. “Thank you,” she rasped. “Thank . . . you.”
    “No.” Raze’s voice sounded as destroyed as the club as he sank heavily to his knees. “ No !”
    He gripped Lexi’s biceps and channeled what was left of his power into her, but a heartbeat later it became clear that she was beyond his capacity to help, even if his ability had been fully charged. He felt her drift away, her pulse becoming weaker as his pounded harder, until it stopped completely and her beautiful eyes clouded over.
    “Ah damn,” he whispered.
    “I’m sorry,” Slake said softly. “I didn’t know what to do—”
    “You did everything you could.” Raze shuddered, but long after it should have stopped, his body continued to tremble. He couldn’t let go of Lexi, not until Slake pried his fingers from her limp arm.
    “Come on, Raze.” Slake signaled to a team of rescue personnel as he pulled