Page 23

Ruugar

T he mother chumble slunk into the forest, nudging her tumble of pink babies ahead of her. Only when she was out of sight did my knees hit the ground beside Beth.

“Are you hurt?” The words came out rough, too forceful.

Beth blinked up at me, wide-eyed, her breath coming fast. Her face had lost all its color, but she was upright, conscious. That was something.

She lifted her arm. Blood seeped from a long gash along her right forearm, trailing down in thin droplets.

A muscle jumped in my jaw. The breath in my chest turned white hot and a growl ripped up my throat. Anger at the bird, at myself for not watching over her, for not getting here sooner, was determined to claw its way free.

I scooped her up in my arms with all sorts of thoughts slamming through my mind. Protect. Defend. Comfort. All the things I wished I could offer my mate .

Beth let out a startled gasp and clutched my vest. But she didn’t pull away or fight me.

“You’re bleeding.” Damn me for sounding so snarly. But when I couldn't find her, and she didn't appear when I called, and then I heard her cry out… Red filled my eyes, and my overwhelming urge to challenge whoever might even think of harming my mate had consumed me.

“It’s just a cut. I scraped it on a branch. I'm sorry.” Her eyes shone with tears.

She was badly hurt. I could tell this. But I was going to fix it.

The forest was a blur. I darted around trees, my boots thudding on fallen leaves and branches. When a small gray creature hopped out ahead of us, I leaped over it, landing squarely on the other side. I kept going, aiming for the meadow ahead.

“Why are you apologizing?” I asked.

“Because I messed up,” she sobbed.

“You didn’t. I’m the one who messed up. Hold still. Don’t move, or you’ll bleed more.” Hurt more.

Die.

Her breathing stuttered. “I—I was just trying to help.” Her words tumbled out fast. “I wanted to do something . I wasn’t thinking. I mean, I was, but I didn’t mean to…” She sucked in a deep breath and more words shot out with the air. “I just?—”

“You did nothing wrong,” I barked.

Tears slid from her eyes.

Panic twisted through my guts. I didn't understand half of what she was saying, but none of it mattered. Her wound had to be taken care of, and I needed to make sure she wasn't more seriously injured.

Tightening my grip on her, I burst from the woods, barely registering the startled stares of our guests still near the river as I barreled across the open camping area. The gazebo was too open, too exposed. She was hurt. She needed comfort. Privacy to cry if the pain got too bad.

Kicking the tent flap aside, nearly knocking over the structure, I ducked inside where I lowered her onto the sleeping bag with more care than a big orc like me should be capable of.

“Where else are you hurt?” I snarled, breathless with fear. My hands hovered over her, but I didn’t quite dare touch. Yet I had to. I needed to make sure she was alright. “Did it—are you hurt anywhere else?”

She only blinked up at me, her lips parting in surprise.

That wasn’t an answer.

I carefully ran my hands over her shoulders, down her arms, along her sides. Along her thighs.

A shiver wracked her frame.

Damn, she was cold. I latched onto the edge of the sleeping bag and wrapped it up over her back, her head, tucking it under her chin while she gaped up at me. Then I ran my hands along her legs, all the way up to her hips. Her belly. Even her back beneath the blanket. A startled breath escaped her.

I froze.

She froze .

Heat shot through me, tighter than a hand around my throat.

Beth’s eyes locked onto mine, wide and darkening with… I couldn't quite believe what I thought I was seeing there.

My muscles twitched, and I ripped my hands back and lurched away from her, stumbling over the blanket and dropping onto my chest on the ground.

“Fates—Beth, I—” Sitting up, I dragged a hand down my face, scrubbing hard. “I didn’t— I wasn’t— I mean, I was— but not like?—”

Flames crawled up my neck. My pulse slammed in my throat, and my ears must be bright green by now. I made myself stop spewing words before I gave myself away.

She didn’t look angry.

She should be angry.

But she only stared at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips quivering. She looked like she wasn’t sure if she should speak or say absolutely nothing at all.

That was me. I should be saying absolutely nothing at all.

I tightened my hands so hard, the nails bit into my palms. It wasn’t easy, but I forced myself to breathe normally.

“I’m sorry,” I growled, disentangling myself from the blankets and rising to a crouch, backing away from her until I ran into the side of the tent. “I didn’t mean to—” My throat dried out. “I was just checking for— for injuries and?— ”

Her lips twitched. “Ruugar.” Her sweet voice croaked, but it was the pleading in her eyes that made me go still.

“Beth. I was so worried.”

“You saved me,” she said simply. “I’m fine.” Her tears were gone.

“Are you going to die?” I asked.

“What?” Her breath caught. “No! No. Not at all.” She held up her arm. “I scratched myself on a branch. The crumble didn’t come near me.”

“Good. Very good.” Now I felt foolish. “I’ll be right back.

” My voice came out rough, and I forced myself to meet her eyes before tearing mine away.

I bolted from the tent, sprinting past the fire pit where Pete and Carol sat with their backs to me, talking, and across the clearing, to the supply shed.

I wrenched the door open and seized the first aid kit from the shelf, then wet a clean cloth at our water supply. The run back felt slower, my pulse pounding louder than my footsteps. When I ducked into the tent again, Beth was watching the entrance like she’d been waiting for me.

I crouched beside her, setting the small kit down carefully, noting that she’d shrugged off the sleeping bag. At least she wasn’t cold any longer. I’d heard of humans going into shock. That might be what was happening to Beth.

Although, she’d said it was just a scratch.

Maybe she was being brave, and she truly was horribly injured. She didn’t want to worry me. Or she didn’t think I’d be able to do anything to help. I’d soon prove that wrong.

My fingers shouldn’t be capable of gentleness, but they would learn because of her. For her. Taking the wet cloth, I carefully stroked it across her wound.

She hissed, flinching but not wrenching away. Every muscle in me locked, my jaw tightening. I didn't like to see her hurt. I hated it. Worse, I hated that it was my fault she was like this in the first place.

“Sorry.” The word scraped up my throat.

She shook her head. “It only stings a little. It’s fine.”

Fine? It was anything but. Blood had no right being on her skin.

I refocused, taking more care this time as I blotted at the wound, clearing away the worst of the blood.

Once it was clean, I reached for the kit and opened the top, removing a bandage I gently wrapped around her forearm, snug but not too tight.

My thick fingers fumbled only once as I taped the end in place.

I sat back to study my handiwork, grateful I'd attended one of my Dungar's instructions that covered not only first aid but basic human interaction, something that all of us needed.

I should've paid more attention to the latter and then I'd know what to say in a situation like this.

I stilled, unsure what to do now. Like a fool tempting the fates, my hand lingered too long, my thumb pressing against the place where her pulse beat under fragile skin.

If I moved, if I let go, would she withdraw completely?

Then this tiny moment would slip from my grasp as quickly as it had come.

I had no right to touch her, but fates help me, now that I had, I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. I wanted to stay like this forever.

A slow breath escaped me, and I forced myself to sit back on my heels. “Are you sure you’re not injured somewhere else? You can tell me. I have a mighty stomach.”

She frowned. “Mighty…?”

“Mighty…stomach. It’s a human saying.” Which she would know, her being human.

She blinked before her expression cleared. “You mean a strong stomach?”

“How can a stomach be strong? It’s not a muscle.” Was it?

“It’s a saying. Strong stomach means it doesn’t get upset easily. Usually people say that when they’re talking about blood or vomit.”

“You’re not going to vomit are you?”

Her expression went solemn. “Not so far. And no, I’m not injured anywhere else. Only my dignity. I fell back on my ass.” Her lips quivered up into a fragile smile. “I was afraid the mother chumble was going to attack me, but she was more worried about her babies than me.”

She would’ve attacked; they were known to do that, particularly when it came to defending their young.

“If you hear them in the woods again, go the other way.”

“Oh, I will. I’m not interested in running into another chumble for a very long time.”

She looked down at her arm before her gaze met mine. Something swirled in those wide eyes. A quiet sort of plea. I didn’t understand it, but by the fates, I felt it. Deep and raw and aching and mirroring the feelings floundering around inside me.

My chest tightened. It was too much. Everything I’d shoved down, every moment I’d told myself she could never be mine, gathered up and pressed hard against my ribs.

I needed to move before I did something reckless.

“Thank you for helping me,” she said. “I’m not sure I could’ve tended to the wound as well by myself.”

“You’re welcome.” With a grunt, I backed away.

The space between us swelled, but my insides still churned, still burned.

“You need to be more careful.” My voice came out gruff, strained.

I hesitated, daring to let one truth slip free.

“You scared me, Breela.” To keep from saying more, I clamped my teeth together so hard I tasted iron.

I wasn’t supposed to admit anything. It made me weak.

It made this real. But whatever was between us had been real for too long.

I turned, escaping into the midday light. Straightening, I sucked in a deep breath, but the fresh air did nothing to settle the storm lashing around inside me.

Across the clearing, Pete still sat near the fire with Carol beside him.

They looked comfortable, like they belonged together.

Pete didn’t have to fight for his mate, not in the way I would have to.

He didn’t have to hide what he wanted. He didn’t have to live with the certainty that whatever small piece of hope he clung to would slip between his fingers before he truly had the chance to grab onto it.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I strode over to them. Pete must've heard me coming because he peered over his shoulder.

I stopped beside him, avoiding looking at Carol. “Can I ask your advice about something?”

“Oh, sure.” He raised a brow but nodded toward the empty seat opposite him.

I dropped down, making the chair squeak, but I was unable to meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on my hands, running a thumb over a callous, swallowing down my unease.

“What can I help you with?” he finally asked.

I blurted it out. “How can I win the heart of someone I love?”