Page 44 of Never Tamed
My head whirls, and my vision flashes between seeing a figure over me, holding me down, the edges blurred by crimson.
“Don’t you fucking dare, you bastard.”
I pause my thrashing.
I knowthatvoice. Right?
When I search for a name in my memory, I come up blank.
Whoever it is, I shove at him, throwing him off balance long enough for me to sit up. But someone else joins him, arms locking around my torso from behind.
“DAX! Snap the hell out of itnow!”
That voice sounds familiar too. But they’re still strangers. Enemies, so I continue to struggle against them with all my strength.
Somehow, I’m able to rip my arm out from the one’s hold, and rake my claws down the one on top of me’s shoulder.
“Fuck!” he cries out but manages to stay on me. “Get a good hold on him, Mathis!”
More shouting. Snow crunching. Then—
CRACK.
Pain bursts across my face, and the world spins before darkening. Then finally, everything goes quiet.
Chapter 11
Mathis
Dax is heavy as hell.
Even half-shifted and unconscious, he’s dead weight between me and Torin. We haul his ass over the snow and his feet drag, leaving a crooked trail behind us, his head lolling forward every few steps.
A part of me can't believe Noble knocked him outthatgood. Dax is going to be pissed when he wakes up.
Torin grunts. “You good?”
“Oh, sure. Peachy,” I mutter, adjusting my grip under Dax’s arm. My ribs ache, and my shoulder’s screaming from the hits I took at the church. I keep it to myself. “You?”
“Shut the hell up.”
Fair enough.
Ren and Noble trail behind us. He’s limping less now since the shift..
She hasn’t spoken once. She’s been quiet for the entire trek back down the mountain, visibly shaken, with her clothes in shreds. I want to ask her why she decided to run off in the middle of the night and how Dax suddenly lost his mind.
She’ll tell us when she’s ready.
Now if this storm would stop—
The snow slows us down. It’s not as windy as it was the last time we trekked to the temple, but the flakes are thick, building mounds around us, making it harder to move.
It isn’t until the sun starts to stain the gray clouds a muted gold that we crest a ridge and see the creek and the glow of our makeshift camp’s dying fire in the distance.
“Finally,” Torin breathes. “With all the snow, I was afraid you were walking us in circles. I thought we’d never make it back.”
“Didn’t trust me?” I ask, raising a brow.
