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I dug my fingers into the dirt, about to toss it into his face so I could take off running.

Then, a large fucking tiger with coloring I’d never seen before pounced on his back. Those large claws slashed into the back of his neck, severing it in one swipe.

I gawked.

Jax turned into his human form. He stood over the body with a sneer on his face.

I closed my eyes. It was fifty-fifty. He would kill me, or save me, and I had nothing to hope for either way.

Jax placed his bleeding wrist to my lips. My eyes flew open, and I stared into his shadowed, blue lapis-colored eyes. My tongue flicked out to collect the offering. I gripped his wrist, pressing his flesh to my lips. I swallowed down another mouthful.

Jax pulled away at the third drink.

I made a sound of complaint.

“I can’t have you drunk off blood.”

Already the pain in my head felt better.

“Thank you,” I croaked. He hadn’t killed me . . . and he’d given me his blood.

“Are you okay, Kitten?”

The soft question sprang tears to my eyes and my lip wobbled. I lowered my head to hide the vulnerability.

He gripped my jaw and forced my chin to face him. My eyes fell on his concerned one.

“Jax,” I sobbed and tossed myself in his arms. He stiffened and then his hand smoothed down my spine.

“Shh,” he murmured, continuing to pet me. “Kitten, we have to get out of here.”

I swiped the back of my hand across the dampness on my face.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Climb onto my back.” He crouched. I stared down at the bare wide shoulders. Something moved within the brush to my right. I tossed myself on him, clinging like a monkey. He ran through the forest with ease. The loose strands of hair that had escaped my braid fluttered at my temples.

Jax slowed.

“What are you doing?” I whispered—no, croaked.

He turned his head. In a jerk to the side, he focused on a tree a few feet away. A slight form burst from the tree, running the opposite direction. He continued to stalk her until his fist went right through her chest. Blood gushed from the wound and spurted from her front. Jax had punched a hole right through her chest. In the same swift, no nonsense move, he yanked his arm out. Her flesh made the oddest suctioning sound and there were snaps of bones as he removed his arm. She fell facedown, still and with a hole in her back. Jax flicked his hand, and her blood splattered around. He swiped his hand over his thigh, removing the red layer on his palm.

My stomach heaved.

“Why?” I croaked.

It seemed so unnecessarily cruel.

“She should not have injured you.”

What . . .

She’d been the one to trip me.

THIRTY-EIGHT

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