Page 153 of Mate
I lope for ten minutes. Or hours. I can’t tell time in this form, only sequences. Events. Cause and effect. My hindbrain is larger, and everything is instinct, clear cut. Either good or bad. Want orfuck, no. Friend or foe. There is no compromise, because I’m the undiluted essence of myself. I am insignificant. I am hunger and love and joy. I am the pack, and the pack is me.
Then I spot flames.
Hear screams and shots.
Smell smoke.
My wolf brain doesn’tunderstand. All it sees is chaos and hurt, adrenaline and anger. I gallop toward the battleground, leaving behind the thickest part of the forest. There is a fire, one that started in the clearing and is rapidly spreading to the trees. I can barely breathe. The heat is so intense, my fur feels singed.
Leave, my instincts scream at me.Leave.
But I spot Pavel. His neck is almost entirely in the powerful jaws of another wolf, a fawn-colored one I don’t recognize. When Pavel unsuccessfully tries to free himself, I race toward him and sink my fangs into the vulnerable side of the other wolf ’s belly.
No one has taught me how to fight in this form, but I know anyway. Iknow.
The fawn wolf manages to throw me off. By Were standards I’m not a fearsome creature, but I puff myself up, trying to appear larger. I growl. I raise my tail. When he crouches, ready to charge, I do the same— and then howl in triumph as Pavel takes him by surprise and pins him to the ground.
Around me, Humans scream, firing their weapons. A glance tells me that the cult is overwhelmed and rapidly losing ground. That’s when I spot Koen and learn what real fear is.
He’s still in human form. I growl—What the hell is he waiting for?—but he cannot hear me. Unlike everyone else, he’s running toward the source of the fire. I dart after him, ready to hook my teeth in his neck and pull him away. Then I realize what his goal is.
A girl. A Human girl that I can barely make out through the flames— except for her auburn hair. She’s on the ground, unconscious, and he’s trying to rescue her.
Nele’s sister.
Waves of heat lick at me, and I watch Koen disappear through the blaze. I let out a soft whine, running around the perimeter of the fire, turning away to cough. I snarl. I bark. I wait for him to reappear for several seconds. Or years.
Then, like the idiot that I am, I follow him in.
Stupid, a voice yells at me. But it adds,Help! Him!
It’s impossible to breathe. Jaw open wide, tongue lolling, I track his steps and leap in relief when I see him exiting the fire from another direction, carrying the girl’s unconscious body. I chase after him, trying to keep the smoke out of my lungs. Koen runs past the flames, lays the girl down on the grass, and puts his ear by her mouth, looking for a sign of life.
I’m trotting to him, and that’s when I see Irene.
She’s naked and barefoot. Doesn’t notice me, because Koen and the girl are right between us. Unfortunately, I’m almost sure Koen doesn’t noticeher, either. He’s focused on giving CPR to Nele’s sister, and he never turns around, not even as Irene lifts something that looks a lot like a rifle.
My fur bristles along my spine. In an instant, my fear explodes into pure, roaring rage.
Not on my fucking watch, Auntie.
I clack my teeth, meaning to warn Koen. The problem is, he turns towardmeand instantly recognizes me, despite never having seen my wolf form. I feel his relief and joy andeverything elselike a shock wave, reverberating through me.
Behind him, though, Irene is taking aim.
My next move is primal instinct, something beyond reason and thought. I watch her adjust the mouth of the barrel, and sprint toward her as fast as I can. I leap above Koen and the girl, careening toward the rifle, ready to rip into Irene’s throat.
Someone yells my name.
The wind blows the fire toward us.
A sharp, loudcrackreverberates throughout the forest.
That’s the last thing I remember.
CHAPTER 38
“You pathetic asshole.” The Vampyre voice jostles him awake. He’s asleep beside Serena’s bed— has been for . . . He doesn’t care. “It’s kinda gross, how madly in love with her you are. But please, continue. Pitiful, twitterpated men are very entertaining.”
