Looking around, Dylan spotted Emmett lying on the ground several feet away. Racing to the man's side, he dropped down to his knees. He assessed Emmett's injuries with one sweep of his eyes and knew that he wasn't going to make it. A human wouldn't be able to survive the damages that had been sustained. The ground was stained with Emmett's blood, his skin torn to shreds, lacerations and gashes covering every square inch of his body. He was close to death. The scent hung in the air like a thick layer of fog.
"Oh God, Emmett," Dylan whispered in despair.
"Jesus, Dylan," Emmett panted, his breathing labored as he blinked up at him several times. "What happened?"
"There was a bomb," Dylan told him.
"Oh, no, not another one," he murmured, struggling to get up. "Why hasn't he been arrested yet? We need to get this guy."
"Shh. Don't move." Dylan put his hands on Emmett's shoulders, keeping him on the ground.
He couldn't move Emmett, not in his current state. If he did, Dylan knew he would cause a lot more damage. Emmett was on the brink of death, and Dylan wasn't sure he could heal him.
"Am I moving my legs?" Emmett asked, his brows pinching together. "I don't … " He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth, dribbling down his cheeks. "I don't think my legs are moving. I can't get up."
"Your injuries are really bad," Dylan said, honestly. He wouldn't lie to the man. "You're not going to make it to the hospital."
It took a moment for Emmett to process Dylan's words, but soon, realization dawned. He took a shaky breath and stared right at Dylan. Emmett's eyes filled with moisture, tears falling.
"I don't want to die."
"I'm not going to let you die," Dylan swore. "I'm going to keep you alive, if you'll let me."
Dylan slashed open his wrist. He held it up, showing Emmett his blood. He wanted to give his True Match a choice. He didn't want to force the man to do anything. Dylan's blood would heal him. Drinking from him would also bind them together. Unfortunately, there wasn't any time to give Emmett all the facts. This was a life-or-death situation.
"Do you want me to save you?"
More blood spilled from Emmett's mouth. His lips moved as he tried to speak, but no words emerged.
"Drink." Dylan pressed his wrist against Emmett's mouth.
Emmett didn't react. He lay lifelessly on the ground, unmoving.
"Damn it!" Dylan cursed.
Pulling his arm away, Dylan made a longer gash. He tilted Emmett's head back and forced his blood down the man's throat. It must've worked, too, since Emmett gained enough energy to lick Dylan's wrist. With each gentle pull on his wrist, Dylan could see the effects. His blood was pulling his True Match from the brink of death. Normally, the act of feeding one's mate was intimate, but this was different. He was trying to save the man's life.
Once Emmett's vitals were a bit stronger, Dylan pulled his arm back, and the wound closed, the skin knitting back together.
He lifted Emmett off the ground, carefully cradling his True Match against his chest. His only goal at this moment was to get Emmett to safety. The young man wasn't going to last much longer. He might be a bit stronger from the small amount of blood that Dylan had given him, but it wasn't enough to sustain him.
Technically, Emmett should be dead. He'd lost almost all of his blood. The only way to save him at this point was to change him into a vampire. Changing a human wasn't allowed, so, by saving Emmett's life, Dylan was going to break FPA law. The reality of his new situation crumbled down around him.
He couldn't contact Max or Axel, not yet. He didn't want to put his friends in a compromising position. The only other people Dylan could trust here in the city were Alpha Gideon Channing and his pack. He needed a way to reach out to them. He needed the pack doctor. He had to finish Emmett's transition before it was too late.
"Hey, man, are you okay?" someone asked, running toward Dylan. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"
"Give me your phone."
The guy handed his cell phone over to Dylan. He awkwardly juggled the device and Emmett. Dylan dialed the pack's emergency number since he didn't know anybody's direct contact information. The phone rang once.
"Sean Griffin."
"Sean!" Dylan cried out. He was so relieved to hear the pack beta's voice. "It's Dylan Aldian. I need help."
"Where are you?" Sean asked, sensing Dylan's urgent tone.
"I'm a few blocks away from the Silver Bullet. There was a bomb. I've got a critically wounded human FBI agent. He's dying, and he's my True Match."
"I'm sending out an emergency message to all the pack members right now. Sit tight. I'm on my way. We'll find you."
Dylan sighed. "Thanks."
"Keep this phone on. It'll make it easier to track you."
"Yeah," he easily agreed. "I will."
Dylan slowly sat down onto the curb, careful not to jostle Emmett. He dropped the phone so that he could hold his True Match. He looked down at Emmett and cringed. The man was covered in blood, and his face was far too pale. His vital signs were already starting to tank, and they were running out of time. Emmett needed more of Dylan's blood, and he needed a transfusion, fast.
Seconds felt like minutes and minutes like hours. Dylan sat frozen as he waited for someone from the pack to show up. He said a silent prayer, hoping that someone with enough power to save his True Match would be listening.
Dylan looked up when he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. The engine cut off, and Sean jumped out of his truck. He rushed over, carrying a first aid kit. Kneeling in front of Dylan, Sean unzipped the bag and frantically pulled out a handful of sterile pads, applying pressure to the more urgent wounds.
"Stephen is on his way right now," Sean informed him. "He'll know what to do."
Other members of the pack-Blair, Holden, and Maddox-soon joined in, wrapping Emmett in bandages. They didn't ask any questions. And the three of them didn't seem to have any trouble working around Dylan. Having their assistance made the situation a little more bearable, and it gave him hope that Emmett would be okay.
"I think we were able to stop most of the bleeding, but he doesn't look good," Holden said, shaking his head.
"When will Stephen get here?" Blair asked.
Holden was right. Emmett was paler than he'd been before. His tan skin had turned into a sickening white color. He was in bad shape, and his vitals were tanking once again.
"He'll be here," Sean said, looking at Dylan. "It's gonna be okay. Everything's going to be okay."
Dylan lifted his right arm. He brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit down, carelessly slicing open his own flesh before pressing his wrist against Emmett's lips.
"Drink, please drink," Dylan practically begged, but Emmett didn't respond. He was still unconscious.
Dylan lifted Emmett's head, hoping that his blood was making its way down the man's throat. His mind was splintering apart. In this moment, he was completely useless. If only he could do more. Waiting for Stephen to show up was slowly driving Dylan insane.
When another vehicle pulled up, relief shot through Dylan, making him dizzy. It was the pack doctor. The wolf shifter jumped out of the van with his black medical bag and rushed to Dylan's side. He checked Emmett's vital signs in record time. The look on his face didn't give Dylan any hope.
"We need to get him inside my van, and we need to get him back to the pack house.
"The Castle is an hour away," Holden said.
"We don't have time to sit here and talk. Let's go."
Dylan stood up in one smooth motion.
Stephen walked ahead of him. The shifter opened the back door, and Dylan stepped inside holding the bundle in his arms. The back of the van had been modified to look like an ambulance. He sat on the bench seat and laid Emmett on the stretcher.
"You need to drain him."
"What?" Dylan asked, startled.
"In order to start the transformation, he needs to be dead."
Dylan shook his head. "No, no way. He's still alive."
"He won't be for much longer. Your blood is keeping him alive, but it's not enough. If you want to save his life, you need to drain him."
He stared down at his True Match. It was true. Emmett was on the brink of death. His blood was keeping the other man from dying, but it wasn't nearly enough.
"He has to die before he can be reborn."
Dylan leaned forward. He cupped Emmett's cheeks before placing a chaste kiss against his lips. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
His teeth sharpened and lengthened. Moving his mouth to Emmett's carotid artery, Dylan sank his fangs into Emmett's neck. The taste of his True Match's blood caressing his tongue was a pleasurable experience. Even though the situation was dire, his cock still hardened. There was nothing sweeter or more delicious than Emmett's blood. He would never crave another. When the blood hit his stomach, he could feel the blood being absorbed. It burst into his blood stream, giving him unimaginable strength.