But they weren’t backing away.
The primals were slicing right through the other vampires, the other fools who’d been stupid enough to think they could control these predators.
But Ryder could attack. He could kill. Now that he knew Sabine was alive, he could actually think again.
He shoved his claws into the chest of one primal. Had his heart before the man could scream.
There were so many screams around him.
Ryder sliced the throat of another.
Sabine had a chair in her arms. When a primal vamp came at her, she shoved it at him. The chair leg sank into his chest.
The vamp fell to the floor.
The primals were dying. Those still living should have tried to run, but they just kept trying to get to Sabine.
Ryder grabbed the next bastard who was attempting to bite his woman.
“Need . . . her . . .”—the primal’s eyes looked blind—“her . . . blood . . .”
“You’re not getting it.” Ryder sliced his throat. Took his head. Dropped his body. Moved on to the next target. “None of you are getting to her.”
But the primals were so close to the one thing they wanted most—Sabine’s blood. And they were fighting with a wild ferocity as they realized that death was stalking them.
Because he sure as hell was.
Then one primal made the mistake of driving his fist into Sabine’s jaw. He yanked the makeshift weapon from her hands and shoved his fangs into her throat.
The world became a sea of red rage for Ryder.
He tore through everyone in his path. His claws sliced. His teeth bit. Flesh tore. Screams surrounded him.
Get to her.
Sabine’s arms came up. “Get away!”
The faintest tendril of smoke appeared between her and the primal.
Ryder reached out and grabbed the bastard—even as the primal started to howl in pain.
The primal’s chest was burning.
From the inside?
Ryder swung him around. The guy sliced out with his claws, digging deep.
And Ryder just laughed. Then he picked up the still-smoking bastard and tossed him across the room. The man slammed into the bar.
Grayson lunged up and staked him.
Ryder stood there, chest heaving, fury boiling his blood. His head turned, and he met Sabine’s wide-eyed stare. She had her hands at her throat. Her lips were trembling.
As she stared at him, there was no missing the fear in her gaze.
His racing heartbeat began to slow. Ryder shook his head and glanced around. Bodies littered the floor. Blood. So much blood.
All of the primals were dead. Their eyes stared sightlessly ahead. Some of them . . . His chin lifted. He didn’t remember even making the brutal attacks, but he knew the kills were his.
I lost it. When they went for her . . .
And the vampires that had thought to attack him? All but one of them had already died. The only one left was Julia. She lay sprawled on the floor, a giant chunk of wood in her chest. Her gasping breaths seemed to echo in the room.
Ryder didn’t want to touch Sabine. Not yet. Not with so much blood on his hands. And there was still one more piece of business to finish.
He turned away from her. Walked toward Julia’s desperate form. His shoes slid in the blood that surrounded her.
Then he was bending over her. Her gaze met his. A faint smile lifted her lips. “You think . . . won?”
Yes, he fucking did. His hands closed around the stake.
“Did you . . . give her a . . . choice?”
Ryder’s eyes narrowed. He heard the faint rustle of steps behind him. Felt Sabine standing at his back.
Julia’s gaze wasn’t on him. It was on Sabine. “Did you . . . ask to be . . . like this?”
Grayson had come from his position behind the bar. He stood on Julia’s right side. Not touching her. Just staring at her with a mix of pity and fury in his eyes.
“Did . . . you?” Julia pressed as her chest heaved.
“I asked to live,” Sabine said, her voice soft.
“But you didn’t know . . .” Julia’s lips curved in a faint smile. “The price he’d . . . make you pay.”
Ryder stiffened.
“I . . . didn’t . . . know . . . I didn’t . . . ask . . .”
“Is that why you sent me to Genesis? Because you and the others hadn’t asked to be vampires?” Ryder asked, voice rough. “I didn’t turn you, I didn’t—”
“You . . . started it. You turned . . . him. Made us all.”
Him. Malcolm.
“Some things . . . shouldn’t be made.”
His fingers were curled around the chunk of wood in her chest. One twist of his hand, and she would be dead. “And here I thought it was all about you wanting to be free of me. Because I controlled you all.”
“They wanted . . . said you couldn’t control them.”
They? Would that be the dead vamps on the floor?