Untamed Mate (Feral Shifters 2)

Kian

I catchAmora as her eyes roll back in her head. Her body is limp before she even hits my arms.

“Stubborn woman,” I grunt, lifting her carefully against my chest. Her head lolls back, and her long dark hair slips over my arm like cold silk. Her pale skin is marred by bruises and cuts from her one-sided battle with the shadow.

But even with her unconscious and injured, having her in my arms again is everything. I cling to her, breathing in her scent, that tang of citrus that reminds me of cocktails and sex. Leaning in, I press my nose to her hair and breathe deep, losing myself in her for a moment. She’s my forbidden fruit, and no matter how badly I want to sink my teeth into her, I can’t.

Fuck, she came so close to death. If it weren’t for Frost’s preternatural speed, I wouldn’t have her in my arms right now. Those moments before, when the gun was aimed at her and we were silently communicating, making plans to save her…

I never want to feel that again.

When I open my eyes, my brothers are staring at me. Malix has one dark brow arched toward his hairline, while Frost’s empty expression is coupled with crossed arms. He’s not one to show his emotions, so his body language at the moment might as well be a scream.

I just stare back, daring them to challenge me. “We aren’t leaving her.”

Malix snorts. “Of course we aren’t, you ass. We just threw away everything to keep her safe.”

Frost nods. He drops his arms and glances back over his shoulder in the direction we came from. “He’ll come for us.”

With a sigh, I heft Amora a little higher and carry her to Malix, passing her off to his arms.

“I know. We’ll be ready,” I assure him. “I’m going to shift. Secure her to my back. We need to cover some more ground and keep her scent elevated.”

Malix nods and takes a step back, still cradling Amora’s still form against his chest. He holds her like he owns her. Like he’d throw down his own life to keep her safe, and I know it’s true.

It’s the only reason I could let go of her.

Shadow magic billows around me, and I shift to my larger shadow wolf form. I’m big enough for Amora to ride me like a horse, with the added benefit that in this form, not even the best tracker can find our scent. With her on my back rather than coming into contact with the ground and leaving her scent everywhere, we can disappear without a trace.

Amora feels slight against my spine as Frost and Malix lift her into place. Her strong, lithe body has never felt so fragile as it does in this moment, and I bare my teeth at the wind as I remember the shadow beating the fuck out of her. The gun in her face.

Her stubborn ass, staring down the barrel with a look that said, Let’s dance, motherfucker.

This woman constantly surprises me.

Malix and Frost carefully maneuver her limbs until she lays face down, her legs straddling my sides and her arms dangling uselessly next to my neck. Lacking any rope to tie her down, I’ll just have to be careful.

Once Malix and Frost have shifted, we head off into the snowy wilds. They let me set the pace, since I’m the one trying to keep deadweight on my back. I feel this annoying, inherent need to get her as far from our pack lands as possible. We need to disappear, find somewhere safe to hide and lick our wounds.

Well, her wounds, anyway.

Shit. Licking Amora isn’t the path my thoughts need to take right now.

The sun is coming up over the horizon when Amora stirs on my back, finally waking up. She stiffens as she realizes where she is, and I can sense she’s still pretty dazed and groggy. I brace myself for her to start raging and jump off my back. Or hell, maybe even to pull a knife out of nowhere and stab it through my neck. I wouldn’t put it past her.

But she just tightens her grip on my fur and lays her head against my shoulder.

That, more than anything, worries me. If she had the strength right now, I have no doubt she’d be trying to kill me. Especially after I held her in place for Quinton’s gun.

I have an uneasy feeling her injuries are a lot worse than she let on.

Not long after Amora regains consciousness, we find a possible safehouse. Wealthy people like to pick up mini-mansions out here in the mountain wilderness. They’re always well-stocked and nicely maintained and, better yet, usually empty because they aren’t full time homes. We’ve broken into plenty in our time.

Frost and Malix scout ahead, sniffing around the cabin for any hint that humans have been here recently. Amora watches them intently, her cheek still pressed against my fur, but she doesn’t speak. Every breath she takes rises and falls against me. A reminder that I’m happy she’s alive.

Which also reminds me that I shouldn’t fucking care.

The silence stretches, full of unspoken words. How the hell have we come to this? When we broke the mate bond with her and left her in New Mexico, that should have been the end of it.

The woman is fucking infuriating.

Malix shifts to human form and motions me forward. I pick my way through the overly fancy landscaping until I reach the wooden wrap-around porch. Malix reaches for Amora to help her off my back, but she bats his hands away with an irritable huff and slides off me on her own accord.