in pain and barely conscious. Perhaps a mile away. That would be near the
border with the Indies.
She must have been attacked by the sorcerer. I knew that fucking cousin
of hers couldn’t keep her safe.
Sweat dampened my shirt as I leapt over rocks and wound through the
trees. My wolf surged inside me, wanting loose, but if Savannah was inside
the Indies, I didn’t want any trouble with the LaSalles, and right now, my
wolf would unleash a hell storm. I’d never felt him so agitated, and I
struggled to keep him restrained.
I pressed on until Savannah’s signature dulled all other senses. Her sobs
wrapped around me, each whimper digging into my already aching soul. I
slowed and stepped around a tree and froze.
It couldn’t be.
Lying on the forest floor, crumpled and broken, was Savannah. Half
woman. Half wolf.
My mate.
My fucking mate.
Her pulse was low, her breathing shallow. She was dying.
My wolf roared, demanding freedom, but I fought him down, though my
bones cracked from the strain. He couldn’t help her like I could.
I rushed forward and knelt beside Savannah’s broken body. She was
naked, her skin caked in blood, sweat, and dirt.
From our lore, I knew that the mate bond gave me the power to heal her.
But I couldn’t be certain I wouldn’t kill her in this contorted half-human,
half-wolf state. She was stuck in limbo and needed to shift all the way before
she could heal.
When I touched her back, a tingling force shot up my arm, and her body
jerked.
My mind burned with rage and denial and fear. It was impossible. This
couldn’t be happening. But it was.