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Maybe he’d found another rifle. Maybe it had gone off unexpectedly, or he’d been testing it out. It was probably nothing. He was probably fine.

But what if he wasn’t?

What if someone else had found their way in here?

Get to him.

Save him.

I ran faster.

The house came into view. I didn’t slow. I still had the axe in my hand where he’d pressed it into my palm before we’d parted.

I rounded the corner.

Tusks was on the ground by the fire next to a freshly killed deer. He was moving, growling, bleeding. Gold spurted from his throat and shoulder.

“Jo?” a masculine voice called my name.

I turned to see a man I knew. Bradley Owens. Hunting buddy of Jim, and Dale. Far more competent and less of a drunk than either of them were. There was a rifle in his hands, pointed at me. He gave me a quick glance over before turning it back toward Tusks.

“Thank fuck you’re okay. Stay behind me.”

My pulse continued to roar in my ears.

Tusks made pained gurgling noises as he dragged himself away from the hunter, toward the body of the deer.

Bradley lifted the bolt handle, ejected the casing for the round he’d already fired into my beast, and loaded the next round into the chamber.

Protect him.

“I don’t know what the fuck that monster is, but I think it got Jim.”

I took a step toward him. Another. Until I was behind him, as he’d asked.

“Bradley?” My voice sounded calmer than I was.

“Yeah?”

“That isn’t the monster you should be worried about.”

He didn’t take his eyes off his target. “What? Then what is?”

“I am.”

He was too slow. Before he had a chance to swing around and aim his weapon at me, my axe was already carving through the flesh between his neck and shoulder.

A wet squelch, and red sprayed over my face as I pulled the rusted metal from his skin. Brought it down again. Again. More red. More gurgling. He fell. I hit him again.

I chopped off the hands that would dare to harm my monster.

Bradley was no longer moving. I kicked the rifle away anyway. Then dropped my axe as I rushed over to a very injured Tusks.

He had to be okay. I couldn’t lose him. I didn’t understand a lot of things about our connection yet, but I knew if I lost him, I’d never ever recover. I’d been grieving him before I even knew he existed. I had to keep him. No matter what it took. He was mine.

His hand was shaking, drenched in gold as it hovered over the face of the deer.

Gold light poured from its unseeing eyes. It collected in his palm, gradually forming a glowing flower.