Page 4 of Primal Bonds

But the fae had made a fatal mistake. He’d let himself get within reach of a man whose animal was a jaguar.

Jace’s claws shot out. He struck at the night fae, ripping out his throat in a single, savage blow. The man gurgled and staggered back into a brick wall. He slid to the ground, twitching, his expression shocked.

Jace waited, breathing hard until the man’s heart went silent. He was dead.

A hand to his belly, Jace crouched on the asphalt, hurting so bad he could barely think. The motherfucker had stabbed him with an iron knife, poison to both fada and fae. Worse, the blade must’ve nicked a small artery, sending the poison directly into Jace’s bloodstream.

His vision hazed. He set his jaw and hauled himself upright. For a few seconds, everything went black. He swayed on his feet, gazing down at the leather-wrapped hilt sticking from his abdomen.

Get it…out.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the hilt with both hands and jerked the knife free.

The iron blade hurt even worse coming out than it had going in. From far away, he heard himself groan. He let it drop to the ground and used the last energy in his quartz to heal the nicked artery. The spurting blood slowed to a trickle.

The parking lot was blurry. He shook his head and forced himself to focus.

The night fae was sprawled at his feet, his blood seeping onto the asphalt. Jace could still see his mocking smile as he thrust the knife into Jace’s belly.

The bastard wasn’t smiling now.

Thunder grumbled in the distance. Jace’s skin prickled. The parking lot appeared empty, but he sensed more night fae nearby.

And there was no fucking way he could ride a motorcycle.

Taking a bandana from his pocket, he pressed it to his wounds and limped around the corner of the building. The movement sent a dizzying jolt of pain through him.

He leaned against a loading dock, breath sawing in and out, and closed his fingers around his quartz, drawing what energy he could from the vibrating crystals. The stone warmed in his hand. Given time, it would refill with energy, but time was something he didn’t have.

From the parking lot, he heard two men speaking in hushed tones. His heart rate ratcheted up. He couldn’t tell if they were night fae, but his skin still tingled, so he forced himself to keep going, dragging himself around a chain-link fence.

He zigzagged, slow and awkward, through town, trying to throw off any trackers. He was fading fast when he arrived on a dark, quiet street. At some point, he’d lost the blood-soaked bandana, but maybe that was a good thing—if someone was following him, it would draw their attention and hopefully, grant him a little more time.

He’d left Grace Harbor’s small business district. Mind working, he considered the long line of attached Formstone houses.

He couldn’t run much further. He had to go to ground before he passed out altogether.

Two doors down, a plump, gray-haired human sat on a concrete stoop, cigarette in hand. She glanced his way and did a double take.

He peeled his lips, showing his canines, and snarled lowly, his cat rising at the sign of a threat.

“Easy now.” The female came to her feet and backed up. “Tim?” she called through the screen door. “You there?”

Jace didn’t wait to meet Tim. He lurched off down the sidewalk. Thunder crashed and he scented the rain close behind. That was good. It would wash away the blood, hide his scent.

About halfway down the block, he came to a break between the row houses. Limping into it, he followed a strip of asphalt to its exit in an alley behind the houses.

He was almost back where he’d started, the bar a hundred yards to his left. He cursed and headed the opposite way. He was staggering now, the single streetlight hurting his eyes. A few doors from the end of the alley, his legs gave out.

Hide. Dark. Den.

But his den was thirty-some miles south in Baltimore. He crawled into the nearest backyard, instinctively seeking a dark corner, and collapsed against the concrete steps.

The iron crawled through his veins like a troop of fire ants. He took a few short, ragged breaths and tested his quartz. The tiny crystals were nearly depleted. Instead of humming their customary song, they were barely vibrating. Too weak for him to draw on the quartz’s energy to heal himself.

Too weak even to signal for help.

If the iron didn’t kill him outright, the night fae would find him.

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