Page 67 of Forget Me Not
Tearing through a copse of new growth, Bastien found himself standing in the middle of an old logging road twenty yards shy of a man hovering over a massive, dead bull elk.
Poacher. He fucking knew it—he had no doubt in his mind this was the same man who robbed him of a brother.
Clearly having heard him coming, the piece of shit was standing behind the elk, silenced rifle in hand. Not that his rifle would do him any good against anything approaching the way Bas had. Between the full camo—balaclava and face paint included—Bastien could only make out the man’s hauntingly green eyes.
A violent snarl tore loose from his throat as he stalked closer, begging the man to lift his gun—to give him another reason to rip his throat out.
Ask and you shallreceive.
Just as the barrel pointed his direction, Bas launched himself forward, swerving in a serpentine trajectory. Realizing how useless his weapon had become, the man stumbled back, dropping the rifle to the ground and fumbling with his belt.
Bastien leapt, clearing the last few feet, noticing the man’s movements too late. He made contact, knocking the poacher onto his back. The deafening crack of the man’s head against the ground left Bas’ ears ringing. Beneath him the man was limp, unconscious or dead, he wasn’t sure. The pounding of his own heart took over as the ringing subsided and his vision blurred. Just one bite, one swipe of his paw and the asshole would be done for with no doubts.
But something was wrong. Blinking rapidly Bastien tried to stop his vision from swimming.
“BASTIEN!”
Syve? Why did she sound like that?
His head lolled to the side, searching for her but the motion cost him his balance and he stumbled. Searing pain licked out like lightning across his body, legs buckling before he slammed into the dirt. He fought to open his eyes when he felt her hands on his face, succeeding just long enough to see her beautiful hazel eyes full of tears.
Then, darkness took him.
Syve
“Stayhere.”
The order shocked her. Bastien had never talked to her so aggressively before. He turned, not even bothering to remove his shorts before shifting and he was gone.
“Bastien!” she cried after him, watching as he sprinted along the lake.
How was she supposed to just stay there? Panic set in as he broke away from the water’s edge, angling toward the trees. A few more seconds and she wouldn’t be able to see him at all.
There was no way she was going to stay there.
Whipping his shirt off, she focused on shifting as fast as she could—not daring to take her eyes off the wolf for even a second. Shifting under pressure proved to be frustratingly difficult and took her far longer than she had time for. When this was all said and done, she was going to start practicing—literally shifting back and forth until she could do it as fluidly as he just had.
Hooves finally on the ground, she tore off, aiming for the gap in the pine where she last saw him.
Adrenaline fueled her as she flew through the woods, praying he continued to run a straight line and she was not going in the wrong direction. She slowed when she entered a section of reforestation, the smaller trees making it harder not just to see, but to move at all. Fierce growling to her right had her jumping back into action, fighting her way past the low branches.
The pines gave way, spilling her out onto an old dirt road. The scene before her played out in slow motion. Bastien was going after a hunter, the hunter was reaching for something at his waist, a pistol, but it was too late to intervene.
Wolf and man collided, a shot rang out as they crashed to the ground and slowly, blood began to stain his perfect silver fur.
“BASTIEN!”
Her own voice startled her, not knowing exactly when she had returned to her human form. Rocks dug into her feet, yet she ran anyway, watching as Bas staggered then slumpedinto the dirt. She dropped to her knees when she reached his side, carefully grabbing his head, begging him to look at her.
One blink and then his body went slack.
“Bas! BAS! No!” she sobbed, eyes darting everywhere desperately searching for a solution. Aside from a wounded wolf, a naked woman, a dead elk and a camo-clad man, of whose current state she was neither sure of nor cared, there was nothing.
“I’ll be right back—I can’t carry you. I have to get help! I’ll be right back. IswearI’ll be right back!” she promised, pressing her forehead to his. Gently, she laid his head down, shifted quicker than ever before, and ran.
Two miles. That is how far the lake was from the Yerovi house, Bastien had told her that once. Syve had no idea how far from the lake she had chased after him.
She stormed into the back yard, cleared the steps to the porch and slid to a stop. Cyrus was just stepping out of the back door, a tray laden with a variety of meats clearly meant for the grill, his brows furrowing the moment he noticed her.
