Page 57 of Lana Pecherczyk

“Stop calling other malesmate,” he growled.

“Seriously? I can’t change me identity—” She let out a frustrated noise. “I mean, I can’t changemyidentity overnight just because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” The denial rushed out too fast.

“Sure, mate.” Her accent thickened deliberately. “Whatever you say,mate.”

“You’re doing it on purpose now.”

“What gave it away?” She patted his thigh, and every cell in his body rejoiced. “Your Guardian powers of deduction truly amaze me.”

He opened his mouth to retort when the horse halted abruptly. Water dripped from its mane, though no clouds marred the sky. Muscles bunched beneath them. Tension vibrated through its frame.

“Blake—” he started, warning too late.

The horse dissolved like morning mist. Its flesh reformed into something ancient and terrible between their thighs. Razor-sharp teeth flashed as the kelpie bucked, launching them skyward. River twisted mid-air, pulling Blake against his chest as they crashed into the underbrush. Her startled cry pierced his heart. But that wasn’t the only sound freezing his blood.

The beating of mighty wings echoed above them, and the unmistakable shriek of an owl shifter brigade.

Chapter

Eighteen

Just when Blake started to believe this world was real, something unbelievable happened. Her mind reeled as she tumbled with River through loam and foliage. The horse had changed. Morphed. Where solid flesh had been, monstrous teeth emerged and snapped at her face.

Now they were airborne. Branches whipped her skin as they crashed through the underbrush. Her satchel sailed left. Trix’s gift went right. The vase shattered against exposed roots. Blake’s heart seized as River’s powerful arms enveloped her. His body curled around hers as they continued to roll down the damp embankment.

A shriek pierced the canopy overhead. The horse-monster’s whinny twisted into something disturbingly human. Ferns whipped her face, but River’s cage of muscle and leather shielded her from the worst. Eventually, they rolled to a stop with his weight pinning her beneath him.

Another screech tore through the forest, silencing every cricket and bird.

River clamped his hands on either side of her face, drawing her wild gaze to his. Blood trickled down his temple, but whereshe expected panic in his eyes, she found calm. What kind of life did he live if this didn’t faze him?

“You good?” His voice steadied her racing pulse.

“Two feet and a heartbeat.”

He slid his hands down her body, checking for injuries with swift, efficient movements that sent lightning skipping across her skin. Or was that the bruising on her ribs?

“I’m fine,” she managed, but her sharp intake of breath betrayed her. “I think.”

Without asking permission, he tugged up her blouse and cursed under his breath. His warm hand splayed quickly against her ribs, and coolness washed through the ache.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Good.” He exhaled, dropping his forehead against hers. “I’m no healer, but bruises and scratches I can do.”

No one had put her first like this, not since her mother. Her throat closed up.

The squelch of hooves faded.

“Is it gone?” she whispered.

He nodded, but looked around. “It prefers easier targets when there’s no water to draw mana from.”

“What was that thing?”