Page 113 of Savage Hearts
THIRTY-TWO
RILEY
It happens so fast, I don’t even have time to scream.
I whirl around and run. I haven’t gone five steps when I’m knocked off my feet by a powerful blow to my back. I land flat on my face in the snow, the wind knocked out of me. I scramble to my knees, heart thudding, but get knocked down again, this time from the side.
I roll over several times. The sky and earth fly by like I’m on a merry-go-round. When I stop, I’m lying on my back, panting and disoriented. My glasses have fallen off, so I can’t see much.
I struggle to rise, not knowing where the bear is or even if it’s still tracking me, but then I hear a terrifying snarl and smell wet fur and realize the thing is almost right on top of me.
With a slight turn of my head, it comes into view.
Black nose and beady eyes, sharp canines dripping with saliva. It’s so close, all I can see is the head.
The bear snaps its jaws at my face. Then it’s on me.
At the same time I scream, crushing weight descends on mychest. The sun is blocked out. There’s fur in my mouth and the overpowering smell of animal in my nose, suffocating me.
I endure a split second of remorse that I’ll never see Mal’s face again. I’m going to die without ever again seeing those beautiful eyes, and the knowledge is agony.
But then there’s a deafening roar. Something warm and wet splatters over my face.
And I’m dragged out from under the motionless bear by my arm.
Mal drops his shotgun, falls to his knees on the ground beside me, and starts ripping at my clothing.
“Where are you hurt?” he shouts, clawing at my shirt with shaking hands. “Riley! Talk to me! Where are you hurt, baby?”
I’ve never seen him like this. His eyes are wild. His face is white. He looks completely unhinged. Like a totally different person.
A terrified person.
Not at all like a man who thinks I’m nothing to him but a means to an end.
When I’m unresponsive, purely from shock, Mal picks me up in his arms and runs back to the cabin. He kicks open the front door. He drops to his knees in the living room, lays me on my back on the rug in front of the fireplace, and starts pulling at my clothing again, desperately trying to find where the bear mauled me.
“Riley, baby, oh god, oh fuck.”
He’s panting in panic. Groaning between breaths. His hands move so fast to find my injuries, they’re a blur.
The feeling is coming back into my stunned body. My head starts to clear, and I realize the blood on my shirt isn’t mine. Aside from an aching shoulder and not being able to draw a full breath, I haven’t been harmed.
Because he was there.
Because, once again, Mal saved my life. I reach up and touch his face.
He freezes, staring down at me. Breathing hard, his eyes frenzied, he looks at me like he can never look away.
My voice is faint but surprisingly calm. “I’m not hurt. I’m okay, Mal. I’m okay.”
So distraught he can’t speak, he simply stares at me, his chest heaving.
What I see in his eyes lights my soul on fire.
Emotion rushes at me, lightning and thunder and starlight, a crash of adrenaline roaring in my ears like the sea. I ache with it, splitting at the seams, unraveling under its power.
I sit up, take his face in my hands, and kiss him.
