Author: J.D. Tyler

Unsheathing his own knife, Aric spun to face the beast coming up on his flank. "Come on, bitch," he hissed. "Let's dance."

Ryon lost track of the battle around him as one of the creatures rushed him. Barreled into him like a freight train and took him to the ground. His M16 was knocked into the air, raining a spray of bullets into the trees. The weapon landed several feet away, useless.

Frantic, Ryon called on his gift as a Telepath. It was all he had. Help me, somebody! Oh, God-

Razor-sharp claws tore into Ryon's stomach and his agonized screams joined those of his comrades'. There was no one to help. Nothing to be done. The creature jerked him up and tore into his neck with those massive teeth, blood soaking them both. Dimly, he became aware of Aric shouting his rage at the beasts.

"Take that, cocksucker!"

As the creature dropped Ryon, he saw the impossible-Aric unleashed a blast of fire from his palms. The flames shot out and engulfed one of the beasts, which dropped to the ground, screeching and writhing as it burned. Aric torched three more wolves, then more still, until the fire was depleted. Suddenly the flames died, and one of the remaining beasts advanced, wearing a sinister expression that could pass for a grin. Aric faced it head-on, without flinching.

"Come on, you ugly fucker. Come to papa."

Whether it understood, Ryon couldn't have said. But it ran at Aric, and his friend braced himself. The beast took him to the ground and his back hit hard as Aric pulled the pin of a grenade.

The wolf brought its nose to Aric's, mouth open, fangs dripping with bloody saliva. Seizing his opening, Aric rammed his fist down the beast's throat, pushing his arm as far as it would go. Immediately, the thing gagged and jerked backward reflexively, clawing at his shoulder and arm to dislodge him. Aric scrambled back as far from the beast as he could.

The grenade detonated, spraying fur, blood, and entrails everywhere.

Ryon lay there, his lifeblood flowing from his body. Strange that in this place of soul-searing heat, he could feel cold.

As his vision faded, his body growing heavy, he heard Zan move to Aric, begging their friend to hang on. What in the hell did Zan think he was going to do? Fetch a needle and thread and stitch their mangled limbs and torsos back together?

Ryon couldn't see at all and could barely hear by the time a hand touched his shoulder.

"Ryon, hang on," Zan ordered from somewhere far away. "I'm a Healer, and you're going to be okay."

Warmth began to spread throughout his limbs. But despite his friend's healing ability, it would be a very, very long time before any of the survivors of this horror were all right.

The Christmas reunion that he'd dreamed of, the promise of which had urged him over every rock and around every tree in that godforsaken country, never did happen.

It would be months before he was well enough to learn that his mom and Lisa had died in a car accident on the way to the airport. They'd been trying to reach Ryon's side.

He was alone in the world, and couldn't help but think it would've been better if he had died, too.

. . .

"I'm so sorry," Daria whispered.

Jerked back into the present, Ryon gave her a small smile. "That was years ago, and Mom and sis would both kick my ass for thinking like that. It's what got me through."

Scooting close, she cupped his face in her hands. "I love you, my mate. You're not alone. Not anymore."

His breath caught. "You mean that?"

"Yes. More than anything. I know we haven't been together long, but I know."

He crushed her to him, pulling her into his lap. "I love you, too. So much, baby."

Right there, he peeled away her top. Freed her breasts and tossed the bra aside. He moaned as she leaned into him, nibbling his jaw and neck, hands exploring his chest and stomach.

Her fingers found his pants and freed him. Grasping his hard, needy flesh, she pumped him slowly, driving him insane. He growled as she moved off him briefly to rid herself of her own pants and underwear, but he took the opportunity to remove his, too. Then she was straddling his lap facing him, the warmth of her sex nestled against his throbbing rod.

Her mouth met his in a clash, their desire rising like a red tide. She smelled so damned good to his wolf, and when she wiggled on him, he nearly came like a teenager. Their tongues tangled and tasted, and he moved against her, making his intent clear.

Reaching between them, she guided the head of his cock to her entrance, and sank down on his shaft. He closed his eyes in pure bliss as her heat gripped and stroked his sensitive cock. The fire built steadily, threatening to send him over the edge much sooner than he wanted.

But any hope of holding back was lost when she urged, "Claim me, the way it should have been for us the first time! Please!"

His fangs lengthened, and with a low, feral snarl he struck, sinking them into the soft skin of her shoulder. She cried out as her sweet essence flooded his mouth. So much more mind-blowing than the bite he'd given her to save her life. His senses detonated, along with his release.

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.

Chapter 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.