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And he wants me to abandon him? Even if we didn’t have a connection—or a complicated relationship I wish was so much easier—I’d never do that.
Go and… what? Leave him here?
Fuck no.
He can’t protect me. That’s fucking fine. I never needed anyone to protect me. That’s my job—and no matter what I have to do, I’m going to make sure he is safe.
That witch didn’t use silver. I don’t give a shit what kind of magic he hit Tristan with, the Beta will be okay. He has to be. Like other supes, shifters can heal anything except for decapitation; kinda hard to survive without your head. Silver makes the process longer and harder than it has to be, but magic? He can recover from this.
I’ll make sure of it.
Did you know there are caves hidden behind certain waterfalls? Because I’ve been in Winter Creek for months now and I had no fucking idea.
That’s my fault for not paying really good attention. From the outside, the rocks surrounding the sides of the waterfall look like just that: rocks. But behind the main waterfall there’s a structure worn into the rocks behind that looks like the shelter I made on neutral territory.
Tristan was right. With the waterfall as my destination, I realize it is much closer to where we are than the pack house. And though I doubted there were more witches waiting out in the woods to attack us, the first two did manage to conceal their presence until they were right on top of me. Other threats could do the same.
I have to hope that Fallon and Lucas are alright. Right now? It’s just Tristan I’m worried about, and I’m super fucking worried.
He hasn’t shifted back to his fur yet. That meant I had a naked human male to deal with—and unconscious naked human male—and the only way I could do that was by picking him up, tossing him over my own equally naked shoulder, and running for the waterfall.
That’s the downside of shifting without stripping first. Everything, from my shoes to my panties, are nothing but tattered shreds after the explosive magic inherent in a sudden shift. Clothing never survives one; charmed jewelry is the only thing I can think of that does.
I don’t care. Like I said, shifters are used to nudity. It only has any real meaning when you’re with your mate, but I barely got a peek at Tristan’s body. I was too focused on getting him out of the witches’ ambush alive.
With him still positioned over my shoulder—since, for some reason, I can’t bring myself to let him go—I wade into the lake. He said cave, and if there’s a cave by the waterfall, it’s gotta be behind the waterfall.
The water is shocking yet bracing. Definitely cold. It’s a welcome sensation, and I do stop for a few seconds to wipe Claude’s blood off of Tristan’s hand. It would’ve disappeared on its own if he had shifted to his fur like Gabriel’s vanished after I returned to my skin. Since he passed out before he could, I decide to take care of it.
Then, I duck my head and shield Tristan’s with my hand as I push past the icy water still streaming down from the waterfall. It doesn’t matter how cold it gets in Winter Creek. The river still rages, the waterfall still pours, and we’re both naked and drenched by the time I come face to face with a small crevice built into the narrow rock shelter.
It doesn’t look like much of a cave to me. I’m beginning to wonder if Tristan expected me to hide-out behind the waterfall itself and hope for the best when, suddenly, I catch a hint of his scent over the water.
It’s different than what I’m used to. Faded for one thing, and a little bit… saltier than the sea spray I associate with Tristan. It’s still undeniably his, though, and it’s coming from inside the narrow crevice.
Even with Tristan’s body positioned over my shoulder, there’s just enough space for me to wiggle my way inside. Maybe… maybe this isn’t the cave he mentioned. Maybe this is the entrance to it.
It’s worth a shot, and after I scrape the shit out of my shoulders, trying to work my way inside, it turns out I’m right.
It’s chilly. Damp. Dark. I only get a little bit of light streaming in through the crevice, but it’s enough for me to use the darkened shadows around me to get an idea how big this cave is. It’s about the size of my bedroom back at the apartment, with only one way in and no other ways out.
I don’t like that bit. We could be sitting ducks in here if the witches track us to the cave, but it’s on pack territory. Would they dare leave the neutral land to cross over onto the pack’s, even if Lucas is gone?
I guess we’re gonna find out.
Just in case, though, I lay Tristan out on the rocky ground, scooting his body to the side. This way, if another avenging witch decides to lob spells in here, he’s protecting. And if they try to follow us in?
I flex my fingers, unsheathing my claws.
They’d have to get past me first.
I spend the next hour making myself as comfortable as possible while waiting for Tristan to wake up.
Because he will.
He has to.
So I wring my wet hair as best as I can, then crouch over Tristan and try to do the same for him. I park my ass down next to him, yelping when the naked skin hits the chilly ground. I have half a mind to shift just for my fur, but it doesn’t seem right to do that when Tristan didn’t.
