Page 20 of Beckett's Fate
Beck’s protective instincts surged, and picking up his bundle, his powerful legs propelled him forward as he followed the faint trail. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready for action. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more troubling than the last.
When he reached the base of the ridge, he paused, his ears swiveling as he scanned the area. The faint crack of a branch to his left had him spinning, his nose lifting to catch the scent. It wasn’t Irene, but it wasn’t far from her trail, either.
Beck let out another howl, this time raw and urgent, pouring every ounce of his determination into the sound. It echoed through the wilderness, a promise and a warning to anyone who dared to stand in his way.
He shifted back into his human form, his breath coming fast as he stood at the edge of the ridge. His eyes swept the dense trees. Somewhere out there, Irene was fighting for her life—or running for it.
Again, silence followed, but Beck’s connection to her pulsed faintly in his chest, pulling him toward her like a magnet. She was out there, and she needed him. With a snarl, Beck started up the ridge, his steps purposeful and his senses on high alert. The hunters might have found her first, but if they had, they’d made the biggest mistake of their lives.
No one touched his mate and lived to tell the tale.
The ridge loomed before him, its rocky terrain bathed in the fading light of the evening. Beck moved with purpose, every sense tuned to the forest around him. Irene’s scent was stronger here, tangled with the bitter scent of gun oil and human sweat. His wolf growled, the sound vibrating low in his chest as he quickened his pace.
Then he heard it—a sharp voice, edged with malice. He moved toward the sound and saw her facing them—afraid perhaps, but refusing to give into it.
“Why don’t you make this easy on yourself? Come with us, and no one has to get hurt.”
Her lips curled into a defiant snarl. “Not a chance.”
The man’s smile faded, his expression hardening. “Suit yourself.”
Beck didn’t wait for the situation to escalate further. In a blur of motion, he shifted, his powerful black wolf form emerging with a rush of energy. The hunters barely had time to react before both he and Irene launched themselves at the men, a deep, guttural snarl tearing from his throat.
The nearest man turned, his eyes wide with shock as Beck barreled into him. His rifle clattered to the ground as a shot rang out, going wide. Beck’s claws raked across his chest, sending him sprawling. The other two shouted, scrambling to aim their weapons.
Irene didn’t hesitate. She lunged at the second man, her movements swift and precise, knocking the gun out of the way ashe pulled the trigger. Beck caught a glimpse of the blade in her hand as she slashed at the attacker’s arm, forcing him to drop his gun.
The third hunter raised his rifle, his hands shaking as he took aim at Beck. A single, lethal second stretched between them, but Beck was faster than the hunter’s ability to take aim and shoot. He darted forward, his powerful jaws snapping around the barrel of the weapon and wrenching it from the man’s grip.
The hunter stumbled back, his face pale as Beck’s snarl echoed through the clearing. He turned and ran, his retreating footsteps fading into the forest, as the other men clambered after him.
The clearing fell silent, save for the ragged breathing of Irene and Beck. Beck turned to Irene, his wolf’s keen eyes sweeping over her for any sign of injury. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a feral energy as she straightened, clutching her knife.
“You’re late,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray her fear.
She spoke to him not as one would a wild animal but as one shifter to another. Beck trotted back to where he’d dropped his bundle of clothes and shifted back into his human form, pulling on his clothes. He returned to the clearing, his tall, broad, muscular frame towering over her. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice rough.
Irene scowled, but there was no mistaking the relief in her eyes. “I had it handled.”
“You’re bleeding,” Beck said, his gaze dropping to the shallow cut on her shoulder. “That’s not what I’d call handled. And they had guns. What’s the line from the movies about bring a knife to a gunfight?”
She glanced at the wound, as if noticing it for the first time. “It’s nothing.”
“Come on,” he said, stepping closer. The magnetic pull between them crackled in the air, something neither of them could easily ignore. “Let me take you back to the B&B.”
“I’m fine,” Irene said, her voice tight.
Beck’s eyes darkened, his wolf growling softly in the back of his mind. “You’re not. And these woods aren’t safe,” he said nodding toward where the hunters had retreated. “Let me help you.”
For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes searching his face. The defiance in her gaze wavered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Finally, she nodded, her shoulders sagging with reluctant acceptance.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But I don’t need an escort.”
“Too bad,” Beck said, his voice firm but with a humorous edge. “You’re getting one.”
The walk back was filled with a charged silence. Irene kept her distance, her steps quick and purposeful, but Beck stayed close, his protective instincts refusing to let her out of his sight.
The scent of her filled his senses, intoxicating and maddening. Every glance she shot his way, every subtle movement, sent a jolt of awareness through him. She was fire and steel, a force he couldn’t ignore.