Page 111 of Ruthless Alpha Beast
“Jasper—"
I go to turn back, but from the corner of my eye I see the flower disintegrate, and then I’m hit with a tidal wave of excruciating pain.
I topple over, my vision turns black.
I want to scream his name, but the pain is too much. It’s like a fire that snakes up my spine and spreads over my stomach and chest.
Gradually, I feel my life force slipping away from me, and all I can think is:
I don’t want to die. Not before I tell Jasper how I feel.
Chapter 22 - Jasper
“Tara, stay with me,” I command, kneeling on the ground to catch her in my arms.
It’s the hardest thing to watch. She’s unresponsive, her eyes shut, but I can tell that she’s in pain. All I want is to take it away.
“Tara,” I shake her gently. “You have to wake up.”
I realize that I’ve never felt fear before. Yes, I’ve been afraid in my life, but not like this.
Her face twists like she’s fighting something, and it tears me apart that I can’t follow her to wherever she is. I can’t fight whatever darkness has its claws sunk into her.
I scoop her into my arms and hold her close to my chest.
There’s darkness around us, watching her, and if I could, I’d tear every one of those creatures apart. But what I need is to get Tara back to safety first.
I run through the forest, the wind whipping at my sides.
I glance down every now and then at her—she’s still in pain.
There has to be someone who can help.
Once I reach where my pack and the witches are, I don’t even look at them. I can feel them about to rush forward, to ask me questions, but there’s no time.
“I’m taking her back,” I growl, rushing past them all at lightning speed.
No one tries to stop me.
I have the urge to shift, but I fight it, unwilling to let go of Tara for even a second.
“Stay with me,” I whisper to her again. I say it over and over, as if it’s said enough times, it’ll bring her back. “Stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me.”
My territory rises in the distance, the familiar border line slowly coming into view. Relief and dread hit me all at once.
I rush through our border, my guards saying something that doesn’t register with me. I don’t slow down.
“Healer,” is all I say.
As I approach the healer huts, two of them emerge from the doors.
From the look on their faces, it’s as though they were ready—prepared for something like this.
But when their eyes land on Tara, their calm fades. I can see the urgency beneath their eyes.
“Lay her down,” one of them orders, already clearing space on the bed inside the hut.
I oblige, although every part of me protests against letting her out of my arms.
