by J. D. Tyler
He shot into her, and his pleasure was increased when she tightened around him, clinging as she found her climax. They shuddered together endlessly, breathing hard when they finally came down from the incredible high.
For a time, he simply held her. Pressed tender kisses to her neck, lips, everywhere he could reach. Then he gently sat her aside, cleaned them both as best as he could. Then he took her inside the tent and spooned her, never wanting to let go.
Daria loved him.
That was all he needed in this world. At peace, he fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
A finger of guilt pricked at Daria’s conscience. She loved him to distraction, and that’s what made her decision so difficult.
Like his Pack friends, Ryon was stubborn to the core. Once he’d set his path, there was no straying from it. He was taking her out of her uncle’s territory, to meet his team. They would leave here and she would never get another crack at stopping August’s nefarious practices.
She would be tempted to give up, let the Pack handle what to do next—if Ryon had never told her the story of how his team was turned. Everything for the Pack began there. Because of whoever had made those rogue wolf shifters, her new friends had suffered. Just as Ben now suffered because of what her uncle, Bowman, and Malik had done.
She could not, in good conscience, leave and go on about her life knowing that August was getting away with crimes worse than murder. She would not risk him coming back to haunt her family and friends.
Ryon rolled away from her, grumbled a bit, and fell silent. Daria’s guilt ate at her conscience long after his breathing had evened out in sleep.
Long after she left his side and slipped into the night.
Eleven
Ryon’s curse knifed through the pitch-blackness as he patted the empty place where Daria had been.
Cool to the touch. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. How long had she been gone? Five minutes or five hours? It took a matter of mere seconds to meet with death in the forest, especially at night.
Sweet Jesus. Since his wolf’s night vision didn’t work well unless he was in that form, he fumbled and located the flashlight he’d brought inside the tent. Because the light could alert any of August’s goons camped nearby, he’d saved it for emergency use only. The thought of Daria stumbling across a band of men armed with assault rifles, or Ben in his bestial form, more than qualified.
He checked his watch. Half past midnight. She had as much as two hours on him. When he caught up with her, he was going to shake her teeth loose. What was she thinking? She wasn’t, plain and simple. She’d let emotion overcome good judgment and escalated the danger they were already in.
Working quickly by flashlight, Ryon broke camp and tidied the area, making sure that he’d left behind no trace of their stay. A fleeting worry that she’d come back here to find him gone niggled at his brain. What if she’d only stepped away to take care of personal needs? He reached out through their bond.
Daria? No answer.
He tried again, waited ten more minutes, then dismissed the possibility of her absence being temporary. She’d left with no intention of coming back until she’d returned to August’s estate and taken care of unfinished business. He had to give her points for having the temerity to see their op through. Unfortunately, he had to deduct them for lack of good sense.
Grinning now, he dug in his pack. His mate wouldn’t get far, even armed with her own flashlight. Because of his secret weapon, she’d lose ground fast. He dug some more and the grin began to fade. No. She couldn’t have—
“Dammit!”
The night vision goggles were gone. They would make traveling much easier for her. If she had a big head start, they were in deep trouble. Glancing at the compass on his watch, he got his bearings.
Ryon gambled that she’d circle around to the north, then west to stay on the left of August’s goons and keep the river on her right. Hundreds of miles of untouched forest spread to the south, so it seemed reasonable that she wouldn’t take that route.
Unless she’d figured he would see it that way. He muttered another curse. Christ, what a mess. In the end, he settled on the northwest route. His gut told him that she would choose the quickest, safest way to reach her goal. She wasn’t stubborn enough to risk getting lost just to throw him off. He hoped.
The trek was slow going. His flashlight, though powerful, could illuminate only a few feet in front of him due to the dense tangle of plants that served as a barrier between him and what might be waiting beyond them. The world ended in darkness five feet in front of his body and slid at his back. It was a creepy sensation he could’ve done without. Even his wolf whined.
Ryon pushed on until daybreak. By then he worried that the security force had found her, or he’d missed her altogether. If August hurt her, Ryon would take the man to hell with him. His sharpened eyesight and smell had picked up a faint trail , but what if he was too late? Three hours past sunrise, fear had replaced worry. Without the cloak of night to hamper his tracking, he should’ve run her down by now.
What if thrummed in his brain. His nighttime jaunt had left him tired and desperate. Stopping for a drink and to decide where to go next, he was reaching into his pack when he saw it.
There, hardly visible through the trees. A sliver of black T-shirt and long black hair.
Daria sat on a rotten log not twenty yards from where he stood, his night vision goggles resting beside her. She was so perfectly still on her perch, she had to have heard him approaching. The woman had planned on letting him march right by! His rare temper exploded. He stomped through the trees toward her, thinking it odd that she didn’t turn around.
“That’s right, it won’t do you any good to run!” he yelled. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t handcuff us together, mate.”
Daria didn’t react. Ryon stepped over the log, continuing his tirade and reaching out to grab her arm at the same time.
“Jesus Christ, do you have any idea how stupid—”
“Snake,” she whispered.
Ryon’s hand—and his blood—froze. Her brown eyes were wide with terror, her face ashen. He didn’t move and for a few seconds, didn’t breathe. Calm, stay calm.
“Where?” He had to strain to hear her answer.
“In my shirt.”
Son of a bitch.
“Front or back?”
“Front. I think it’s asleep.”
He studied the front of her shirt and noted the barely perceptible bulge at her stomach. The snake must be small, but in nature, a creature’s size didn’t matter at all. In fact, the smaller the animal the more venomous nature seemed to have made it in compensation. Even her wolf might not be able to recover from the poison.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, keeping his tone soft and even.
Ryon straightened and backed away, making as little noise as possible. Her eyes locked with his, frightened and beseeching. God, he might’ve startled the thing into biting her if he’d jerked her arm. He berated himself for an idiot. He should have known better when he’d seen her frozen like a statue.
He retrieved his pack and returned to stand behind her, agonizing over what to do. They couldn’t wait out the serpent, that much was obvious. It had found a nice, comfy nest to sleep away the day and most likely wouldn’t move again until nightfall. Daria would pass out first, either from exhaustion or fright.
“I’m going to cut your shirt off. It’s the only way.”
“Okay. Ryon, I—”
“Shh. Stop talking.”
“Hurry.”
Slipping a hunting knife from his boot, Ryon fought to quiet his racing heart. Hands trembling, he pushed her ponytail aside, grasped her T-shirt at the collar with one hand, and positioned the blade of the knife pointing downward. Slowly he began to cut, splitting the shirt open at her back. Her lacy white bra peeked at him from beneath, hugging perfect bronze skin. His gut knotted and he forced himself not to think of what would happen t
o that perfection if he failed.
Next he made a cut from each armhole in order to let the garment fall away from her skin without jostling the snake. Last, he tugged the shirt from her waistband, inch by torturous inch, until all that remained to be done was lift it away—hitchhiker and all.
Moving around to her front, Ryon knelt between her splayed legs. Sweat trickled into his eyes. He swiped an arm across his brow, then began to pull the shirt off, gathering it at her stomach. He looked into her white face and nodded.
“I’m going to put my hand underneath the snake to support it as I lift it away. Here goes.”
Ryon carefully slid one hand under the bundle, the other on top. He had to resist the strong urge to lurch to his feet and sling the creature. A sudden move, however, would result in one of them getting bitten. Legs shaking, he stood with agonizing slowness. As he did, part of the mutilated material slid off the creature to reveal its head and color pattern.
Red and yellow kills a fellow, red and black, friend of Jack. His heart slammed painfully against his ribs. Death rested in his hands. Awake now, the coral snake raised its head to stare at him with cold, beady eyes, tongue flicking. Never taking his attention from the serpent, Ryon continued to back away from Daria until he was positive she was out of danger.
With all his strength, he flung it far out into the forest.
“Oh God!” Daria’s voice broke and she buried her face in her hands, elbows on her knees. “I sat down to rest and that thing crawled up my arm and into my shirt. I couldn’t move.”
Ryon reached her in two long strides and sat on the log beside her. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her against his chest. His body leapt to painful awareness of hers pressed close, trembling, her skin smooth as silk under his roughened palms. Her dark head was tucked under his chin, one hand clutching the front of his shirt as though she’d never let go. Fierce protectiveness swelled around his heart, making his chest ache.
“It’s all right,” he crooned. “You’re okay. I’m here, baby.” He murmured other things too, lilting words he knew she didn’t catch—but she didn’t have to know their meaning to allow them to soothe her. She began to relax.
“Never run from me again,” he rasped. “Never. Swear it to me.”
“I swear.”
For a while she was content to let him hold her, accepting the comfort he offered. At last, she drew away and wiped at her face. He felt the loss of her warmth, immediate and disconcerting.
She heaved a deep, shaky breath and Ryon tried not to stare at the ample swell of her creamy breasts. The lacy scrap of material posing as a bra didn’t do much to hide them, and now wasn’t the time to indulge in some afternoon delight. With an effort, he moved his gaze north and kept his attention focused on her face. Mostly.
“Thank you.” She sniffed.
He cleared his throat. “You’re my mate. There’s no way I’d let anything happen to you.”
“I’m sorry I left without telling you.” She stared at the ground, miserable. “But I can’t give up, Ryon. I can’t just leave without getting the information we need.”
Ryon gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? Daria, meeting up with a poisonous snake is only one of a hundred dangers you could’ve run up against. You promised me you wouldn’t run again.”
“And I won’t. But what August is doing is terrible, and stopping him will save lives. I need your help to bring him down.”
“To help Ben, you mean,” he said bitterly. Instantly, he regretted letting out the green-eyed monster, but she took his hand, shaking her head.
“Not just him. Everyone who’s been ruined by him, Bowman, and Malik. This might be our only chance.”
Exasperating woman! “I’ll think about it, but that’s all I’m saying.” Ryon stood and offered her his hand. “Do you have an extra shirt?”
A flush colored her cheeks and anger flashed in her eyes, but she nodded and took his hand, allowing him to help her up.
Daria fished through her pack for the garment. Ryon was disappointed when she brought forth a camouflage T-shirt and slipped it over her head, covering her beautiful skin. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more—strangle her or make love to her. Then she walked the few yards to where her mangled black shirt rested on the ground, poked it with her foot, stooped, and retrieved it.
“Never know when a rag might come in handy,” she speculated, stuffing it into her pack.
Ryon didn’t answer. Had he detected a sound to the west? A movement? The hair on the back of his neck prickled, but it could be his overwrought imagination, nothing more.
A flash of metal through the trees caught the corner of his eye a split second before he spun, bracing the M16 at his shoulder.
“Daria, go!” he shouted.
To her credit, she didn’t hesitate. She swept the pack onto one shoulder and bolted in the opposite direction as the forest came alive with bodies.
The figures seemed to detach themselves from the forest wall like demons from the underworld, come to claim his soul. And he should know.
But not today, dammit. He sprayed the area with a round of ammo to buy them precious seconds. The men fell back, ducking behind cover, giving Ryon an instant to whirl and sprint after Daria before they returned fire.
She negotiated the undergrowth like a swift deer and he had to work to catch up. He barely heard the rhythmic tap of the gunfire over the blood rushing in his ears. He’d almost reached her when she stumbled over a root and went sprawling with a cry. He paused a beat long enough to grab the back of her shirt, yank up hard, and drag her in his wake.
Branches and vines tore at their faces and clothing, scratched their arms. Wouldn’t matter much with a bullet in each of their backs, though, especially if the men were using silver. But that paled in comparison to the horrors August was capable of should they be captured alive.
Ryon pushed harder. Taking a detour south, he hoped to throw the men off the trail. They would look for him to stay close to the river, so he’d do the opposite. After a while, the shouts and curses disappeared, so it seemed to have worked.
He stopped, holding fast to her arm, and listened.
Time stretched out and the whistles of the colorful birds all around them resumed. Ryon let out the breath he’d been holding. Thank God, they’d lost the goons.
Daria tugged her hand free of his and put her hands on her hips, shooting him an annoyed look. The stance made her the very picture of a perturbed dark angel and he had to resist the urge to grin.
“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
Ryon’s jaw dropped. “Me? You’re the one who—”
She stepped close and touched his right arm. “You’re bleeding.”
Ryon glanced at himself. A gouge marred his biceps where one of the bullets had grazed him. Blood trailed in a thin line down his arm and dripped off his fingers. He shrugged. “I’ll heal. Let’s get moving.”
Giving her a quick kiss, Ryon caught a glimpse of the exasperation that flashed across her face before he took her hand, turned, and strode through the trees.
Ryon pushed them east as fast as he could hack through the dense undergrowth. Daria had been silent for several hours, holding her own without complaint or asking him again to consider turning back. They’d stopped only twice for a quick drink of water and a brief rest.
By the second break, he could see exhaustion taking its toll on her. Long strands of dark hair had escaped from her ponytail, and floated around her face in disarray. She sat on the spongy earth, legs drawn up to her chest, and hugged her knees, staring into the forest with an expression that had taken his breath away. The look went deeper than grief, more eloquent than tears, and it had cut Ryon to the bone.
She hated to give up. He was forcing her to abandon finding the cure for Ben, at least temporarily.
“When are we going to turn north?” Daria asked.
“Tomorrow we’ll head that way gradually, and make our way toward the
rendezvous point at an angle. If we push hard, we can still reach the team before August intercepts us.”
“How long will it take us, at this rate?”
“By the afternoon, maybe sooner. Provided you don’t lead me on any more wild-goose chases.”
A soft groan sounded at his back. They’d have to haul ass to stay one step ahead of August and reach the Pack that fast. Still, she offered no complaint.
Ryon had to admire her courage, and he understood her need to bring down August all too well. Yeah, he’d get the sonofabitch even if he had to come back here alone to do it. The last few years had been about healing, then starting his new job with the Pack.
He’d tried to keep his mind off the nightmare of his past by diving into one dangerous assignment after another. Rebuilding his life, securing his future. Then disaster had blindsided him yet again when his team had been ambushed months ago, and he’d driven himself even harder.
“When will we make camp?”
“As soon as I find a good spot. It’ll be dark shortly.”
She muttered, “About time.” He couldn’t help smiling to himself. That his mate allowed the smallest gripe to pass her lips testified to how wiped out she must be.
He wasted no time finding a secluded area similar to where he’d pitched the tent last night. Working to beat the coming darkness, he quickly erected the shelter, making certain the material couldn’t be seen easily.
“Looks good,” Daria approved. “I don’t think anyone passing by could spot it.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”
“Yeah. Hungry?” She waved a hand at the ground behind her. The two metal bowls had been placed on a blanket, along with a strip of jerky for each of them. “Instant beef stew. I’m starving and somehow getting less picky by the hour.”
“Me, too,” he admitted. His stomach grumbled as he joined her. “I appreciate it.”
