Page 35 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Bastien

August had been unusually hot that year.

Bas found his runs with Syve ending more and more at the lake so they could dunk their furry bodies into the cool water.

In fact, he had been considering asking Syve if she wanted to add a swimsuit into the clothing stash—the only thing stopping him was his own reaction to the thought of her in a bikini.

Something changed in the last few weeks, though he wasn’t sure what exactly it was.

They went from running together at lunch nearly every day, to making out on the shitty little sofa in her shop, almost always failing to save enough time for food.

He never pushed further than that, afraid even a wayward hand would be too much, and she would pull away. He felt like a teenager again.

This particular day was the first where they had planned to actually get out into the woods. Usually when they were meeting up for a midday run, they would walk over to the mausoleum from Sew It Seams. Any other time, like this one, she would drive over to his house.

They both agreed it would be silly to go anywhere else when leaving straight out of his backyard was the best chance to go unnoticed by anyone. Anyone, that was, other than Cyrus who was annoyingly only ever in one of two places—the Yerovi house or The Glass.

“Hey Pup, we going for a run?”

Think of the devil.

“We,” he drew the word out, gesturing between the two of them, “aren’t doing anything.

Syve is coming over. Don’t you have a coffee to chug or something?

” Bas checked his watch in annoyance, not at Syve—she still was not supposed to come over for another twenty minutes, but at the man in front of him who was almost impossible to bear.

“Sourpuss. I already got kicked out today, for the record.”

“Cy, It’s not even ten,” Bas deadpanned.

Cyrus shrugged, smug as ever and walked back into the house.

Right on time, the back gate opened and Syve skipped through, looking every bit a teenage boy’s Daisy Duke wet dream, just in unlaced hiking boots instead of a pair of Frye’s.

Curls fell down around her. He had never seen her hair curled before, and the ringlets changed how the sun made her hair glow.

“Bambi,” he called out to her as she jogged over to the base of the steps to join him, satisfaction flooding his mind when she smiled in response.

Once before, she had asked why he kept calling her Bambi, that was the reason.

Openly feasting on her appearance, he grumbled, “We are supposed to be running for real today, and you show up here looking like that?” He licked his teeth with a groan.

“Here, I thought you would want me out of my clothes,” she crooned back, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she slunk past him to head toward the trees.

Bas bit at his lip, contemplating all the ways this woman would be the death of him, as he followed her.

Crossing her arms in front of her to grab the hem of her tank top, Syve slowly lifted the garment off her body, all before she even reached the edge of the yard.

No bra.

Lord have mercy .

His brain short circuiting in surprise, he just stopped and watched.

Anger reignited toward Cyrus as he took in the cherry blossom branches that stretched from under her arm all the way down her left side where they disappeared beneath the waistband of her denim shorts.

That had to be the tattoo Cy mentioned before, and Bas had every intention of beating the memory out of him.

Syve slid her thumbs into the waistband of those little shorts, looking over her shoulder at him with a wicked grin.

Then she shimmied them down over her hips, letting them fall to her ankles.

She stepped free of both her boots and the clothing, standing now in nothing but a thin black pair of panties.

He was certain he was about to come in his pants.

She snickered and he begrudgingly removed his eyes from where he was memorizing every inch of her ass. When his eyes met hers, she winked, blew a kiss and then shifted, bounding off into the trees.

“Son of a bitch,” he laughed, tearing off his own clothes as he dashed after her.

After losing sight of her for the third time, he made his way to his little log-shed, sniffing around, only to find himself alone. Twigs snapped behind him, and before he could fully turn his head, a brown blur side-swiped him, sending them both rolling across the ground.

Syve jumped up, prancing in a few proud little circles before dropping her head behind the logs to dig for the pack—which she then carried over in her mouth and dropped on his chest.

He growled playfully before rolling off his back, shifting in the process and leaving his entire backside bare before her. With a surprised bleat, she turned her head, but he didn’t miss the glances she kept stealing as he watched her over his shoulder.

Black shorts, gray T-shirts—he really needed some diversity in his wardrobe. With a quick toss he landed one of the shirts directly over Syve’s head, laughing as she shook it off and shot him a glare. When he had his shorts pulled over his hips he turned around.

“Are we even now? No more tackling—” words failed him and his sentence died on the spot.

Syve was finger combing her curls over one shoulder in nothing but his shirt—obviously, since the other pair of shorts were still lying at his feet. She really would be the death of him and he was so, absolutely lost to those long, bare legs…

“Oh, we’re even—for now. But I would be lying if I promised you no more tackling.” She drawled, making a show of glancing down at his very obviously tented pants. “I actually like to play a little rough,” she teased, leaning back against a tree.

Growling, he stalked over to her, watching as her eyes widened—but so did her smile. When he was close enough, he placed both hands on the bark behind her head, looking down at her while she toyed with the hem of her, his , shirt.

“How did I not know you had more tattoos?” She asked innocently.

“You never asked, and I guess until now you’ve never looked. ”

He raised an eyebrow at her, red flushing across her freckled cheeks.

The way she was staring into his soul had the power to capsize him.

Bark rained down from where he clenched and unclenched his fists against the pine before he gave in to temptation—moving to run a thumb along those freckles until he could bury his fingers in her hair.

A soft gasp escaped her lips when he gently pulled her head back, just enough to meet her lips with his. Her hands found his hips, sliding their way across to his abs before ascending up through the dark hair on his chest and lacing behind his neck.

Bastien leaned in until their noses and foreheads were touching. He brought his other hand down to her shoulder, running it along her ribs slowly, thumb grazing the side of her breast on its way.

When he reached her hip, he dug his fingers in, inhaling sharply when she arched into him in response, pressing her body into his with a whimper.

Primal need shot through his body at the sound, his mouth crashing to hers with a ferocity he didn’t know existed.

She matched it instantly. Nails clawed at his neck, his back, his chest—anywhere she could reach, tugging him closer as they took turns licking and sucking each other’s tongues, teeth and lips.

Soft pants filled the silence of the woods as they broke for air. He immediately trailed down her jaw to her neck, nipping along her collarbone before licking a slow deliberate path back up to her ear.

“Bambi, fuck .” He growled, licking her earlobe into his mouth and rolling the skin between his teeth. She shuddered beneath him, urging him on.

Without warning, he bent low, slipping his hands under her bare ass, lifting her and slamming her against the tree trunk. Her legs wound around his waist, sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head as not even the summer air separated their bare skin.

Heaven had a name, and it was hers .

“Bambi.” His eyes found hers—blown wide, lids hooded but locked on him. “Tell me to stop, and I swear to God, I will.”

Syve pulled her lip between her teeth and nodded slowly.

Bastien inhaled deeply and the blood in his veins turned to ice.

“Bas? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Can you smell that?” he asked, brows furrowed as he eyed their surroundings. Searching.

Beneath him Syve sniffed the air. “Is that…tobacco?” she asked, perplexed.

Unceremoniously he dropped her legs, holding her hips just long enough for her to find her balance before backing away with a deep growl.

“Stay here,” he ordered, spinning on his heel and shifting, shorts be damned .

Last time he caught that smell on the wind, he hesitated and paid the price. Now, all he could think was vengeance.

“Bastien!”

Her panicked cry was not enough to stop him as he sprinted away, following his nose deeper into the woods.

Rust began mingling with the tobacco stench and Bas knew he was getting close. He had forgone stealth in his rage, crashing through the brush like an enraged bull.

Tearing through a copse of new growth, Bastien found himself standing in the middle of an old logging road twenty yards shy of a man hovering over a massive, dead bull elk.

Poacher. He fucking knew it—he had no doubt in his mind this was the same man who robbed him of a brother.

Clearly having heard him coming, the piece of shit was standing behind the elk, silenced rifle in hand.

Not that his rifle would do him any good against anything approaching the way Bas had.

Between the full camo—balaclava and face paint included—Bastien could only make out the man’s hauntingly green eyes.

A violent snarl tore loose from his throat as he stalked closer, begging the man to lift his gun—to give him another reason to rip his throat out.

Ask and you shall receive.

Just as the barrel pointed his direction, Bas launched himself forward, swerving in a serpentine trajectory. Realizing how useless his weapon had become, the man stumbled back, dropping the rifle to the ground and fumbling with his belt.

Bastien leapt, clearing the last few feet, noticing the man’s movements too late.

He made contact, knocking the poacher onto his back.

The deafening crack of the man’s head against the ground left Bas’ ears ringing.

Beneath him the man was limp, unconscious or dead, he wasn’t sure.

The pounding of his own heart took over as the ringing subsided and his vision blurred.

Just one bite, one swipe of his paw and the asshole would be done for with no doubts.

But something was wrong. Blinking rapidly Bastien tried to stop his vision from swimming.

“BASTIEN!”

Syve ? Why did she sound like that?

His head lolled to the side, searching for her but the motion cost him his balance and he stumbled.

Searing pain licked out like lightning across his body, legs buckling before he slammed into the dirt.

He fought to open his eyes when he felt her hands on his face, succeeding just long enough to see her beautiful hazel eyes full of tears.

Then, darkness took him.