Chapter 30 · What the Bolt Was Aimed At

The bolt went in under his collarbone and punched out the back of his shoulder, and he still had me flat in the leaves before the echo quit rolling down the canyon.

That's Torin. Ninety-something kilos of Alpha with a hole through him, and his body's first idea is to get me under it.

His blood hit my cheek. Then my eye. For a second the whole world went red and stayed red.

"Down." Just air with a shape to it, breathed into my hair.

I didn't argue. You don't argue with a man who's got a bolt in him and still beat you to the ground.

Voices downhill. Two, maybe three. And a bond-hound, that rising whine they make when they've got scent and somebody's jerking the leash.

"Torin. They're coming up." My mouth was jammed against his collar. Wool, copper, wet dirt. "Say something."

"I know."

"Then get off me."

"No."

His hand closed on the back of my neck. Not gentle. He pressed his face into the side of my throat and breathed there, long and slow, like he was filing me down somewhere deep the poison couldn't reach. His chest hitched.