Page 123 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

Blood poured hot and sudden, soaking her fur, her face, the leaves beneath them. Thrashing wildly, the wolf made a horrible wet choking sound, but she ripped downward with everything she had left.

He collapsed on top of her, heavy and still. She shoved free, slick with blood, and stood over him. His chest rose once. Twice. Then nothing.

She sniffed him once. Dead.

With two quick swipes of her hind paws, she scattered leaves and damp earth across the body. Then she held still, ears twitching, listening hard. Nothing followed.

As the adrenaline ebbed, pain rushed in behind it, sharp and relentless. Her hind leg throbbed where his teeth had torn in. Deep gashes burned across her side. One shoulder felt cracked.

Bad. But survivable.

Shifter healing was already working, but she needed water and to move before anyone found John.

The sound of the stream grew louder as she limped through the trees. At the bank, she waded in and lowered herself into the freezing shallows. Blood curled away from her fur in thin red ribbons as the cold current moved through it. She drank deeply.

We need to get clean, I told her. You’re doing well.

After a moment she pushed farther out until the water covered her shoulders, then submerged completely. The current washed over her muzzle, neck, and ears. When she surfaced, a rough breath tore from her lungs.

She hated every second of it, but I kept pushing her deeper into the stream.

When she finally climbed out, her legs still held. Barely.

She stayed in cougar form. The cat had more strength left than the woman right now.

By the time the back porch came into view, even the cougar was barely holding together. Paws slipped on the steps. Vision tunneled. Every breath burned.

Her legs gave out.

The shift took her before she hit the porch.

I hit the cold boards as myself again.

Chapter 35: Tell Me What You Need

The porch was cold against my cheek. Somewhere beyond the roaring in my ears a door slammed open hard.

“Harper—”

I managed to roll my head just enough to see him.

Jackson dropped to his knees beside me. His hands hovered over my skin, shaking, like he was terrified to touch me and make anything worse. His eyes were wide and frantic, flicking over every injury, trying to figure out where the damage was worst.

I tried to speak, but only a cough came out.

“Hospital,” he said immediately.

I forced the word out. “No.”

“Harper—”

“No hospital.” My voice sounded wrong, hoarse and scraped raw. “Bring me inside.”

His brow furrowed hard. I could practically see the argument forming behind his eyes, but something in my expression must have stopped him. After a long second he nodded once.

His hands moved fast then. The flannel shirt came off his back and he wrapped it around me before scooping me up like I weighed nothing.

Every movement sent pain lancing through me, but I didn’t make a sound. I’d felt worse. I’d survived worse. His body radiated heat. The shirt smelled like him. So I focused on that while my head dropped against his shoulder.