Something bumped into me from behind.  Face planted into the disgustingly wet furred chest of the man holding my arm, I felt a blow vibrate through his body.  He jerked oddly. His grip loosened.  I pulled back and looked up at his face as he let go.  Bile rose to my throat at the sight of the bloody stump of his neck.  He fell to the side. I swallowed heavily and looked for the next attacker. Fewer stood before me than there’d been a moment ago.  And those still around me had shifted their attention from me to Luke.  Risking a quick glance, I saw why.

Several jumped on him at once, weighing him down as they grappled with his swinging arms. The remaining men joined in, knowing as I did, that if they brought Luke down, they would have me. None of them paid me any attention, now.

Luke’s tendons stood out with strain as he continued to struggle.  An attacker bit into Luke’s neck and held on.  Luke didn’t have time to shake the man before another attacker flew at him.  No one noticed that I had shifted my focus to the wolf still attached to him.  I flipped the blade in my hand and threw it.  It sank into the biter’s side.  The man grunted but didn’t loosen his hold. Luke gripped another man’s head, twisted the man’s neck savagely, then turned to the next attacker before the body fell. But Luke’s movements were slow and sluggish because of the man whose teeth still pierced him.

I stepped forward and pulled the handle of my knife, now stuck in the man’s middle, up until the blade resisted.  The man, screaming in pain, let go. Luke continued to fight.  I stepped back, flowing into my ready stance, waiting.  The sounds of Luke’s struggles faded to the background as I maintained my focus.  Rage and retribution filled the man’s gaze.  His claws elongated, his fingers receding to make room for their full length.  With a snarl, he reached for me.  But he didn’t move far.  Luke sent his last attacker flying, then twisted to address the man I faced.  He raked the man, gutting him in a spray of blood, from groin to throat.

Looking away, I scanned the area around us, the trees, the undergrowth, searching for more.  The thud of the man’s body falling to the ground heralded a harsh kind of silence.

Luke’s ragged breaths blended with mine, the only noise filling the air.  Nothing moved.  The animals around us remained silent.  Then, a single bird chirped.  My eyes flew to Luke’s.  He too remained partially crouched.  But nothing happened.

We’d done it.

I slowly straightened, wincing at the various little pains that tingled into my awareness.  My wounds didn’t concern me as much as Luke did.  Blood painted his clothes and dotted his half-transformed face.  I bent and grabbed a shirt from the bag.  With each breath, his features settled back into the man I knew. Except his eyes.  They stayed dilated, overly large and completely focused on me.  I started shaking from too much adrenaline and nothing to use it on.  Or maybe shock.  Who knew?

He took two steps forward, plucked the knife from my hand, and dropped it to the ground.  Anger remained in his eyes.  His jaw muscles twitched rhythmically.  His neck bled from the bite, but he didn’t seem to notice.

I shrugged out of his jacket and stripped out of the hoodie so I could use it to press against the wound.  He jerked slightly at my touch and placed a hand on my waist.

In an unexpected move, he snagged the hem of my shirt with a finger and lifted it high enough to see the slice across my stomach.  I’d forgotten about that.  His attention brought the pain back into focus.  It hurt.  He glanced at the cut and then dropped the hem, his eyes devouring me again.  His hand stayed on my side, warm and comforting. He stepped close.

He still looked mad, and the lingering signs of his shift unnerved me.  Yet, I kept pressure on the bite.  I couldn’t afford a passed out werewolf.  My hand continued to tremble, and he reached up to close his hand around mine.  I wondered how much his bite hurt.  Still staring at his neck, he surprised me when he leaned forward to rest his forehead against mine.  My gaze flew to his, but he had closed his eyes.  He breathed deeply, then released my hand.  Gently, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him.  His mouth brushed my hair.  The hug started out light but grew tighter until I squeaked involuntary in pain.

His arms loosened, and he pulled back enough that I could see his face.  His anguish.  His frustration.

“Don’t,” he started saying, but his voice broke and he had to stop.  He swallowed hard and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his look made my heart turnover.  Need.  Desperate need flooded the hazel beauty of the eyes I’d come to know so well.

He leaned in, lifted a hand, and slid his fingers through my hair.  His gaze followed the movement which started at my temple and ended with his fingers cupping the back of my head.  Despite the pains, my stomach went crazy and my settling pulse leapt.  Then, he did the same with his other hand.  He held me gently, studying every inch of my face.  He leaned in further, moving closer until his lips hovered over mine.  My heartbeat tripled its already exhaustive efforts.

“Don’t ever try to tell me goodbye again,” he warned in a thick voice.  “We’re not done yet.”

He closed the minute gap separating us, crushing his lips against mine.  He set fire to my thoughts and burned away all my pain with his touch.  I forgot to breathe.  His fingers held me still as he tilted his head and demanded more, needing the affirmation that we were both still alive.  The teasing patient man was gone.  With his mouth, he claimed me in a way I’d thought he hadn’t wanted, a way he’d hidden from me.  I lifted my hands to his shoulders holding him in return, not wanting this to stop.  I kissed him back, finally sure fate knew what the heck it was doing.

The desperation began to fade, and I felt faint when he tore his lips from mine.  He didn’t relinquish his hold though.  As I gasped for air, he kept my senses spinning wildly with soft kisses to my cheek.  My jaw.  My neck.  Tingles raced over me at the first touch of his lips on my neck.  His lips softened and returned to skim my own with small little kisses that started a yearning in me. A yearning I well understood from previous lives.

Too soon he pulled back, leaving me shaking, and my breaths coming out in hot little clouds.  Without his attention, the cold wrapped around me, and the pain crept back in.  I wrapped an arm protectively over my middle.  His pupils shrank while I watched, and a twinge of regret crept in with the change.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized gruffly, looking away.  I reached out a hand to comfort him and whatever he felt sorry about.  None of this was his fault. The burden of guilt laid solely on me.  I shouldn’t have tried walking away.

“That won’t happen again,” he spoke slowly, his jaw muscles clenching.  Then he looked at me with promise burning in his eyes. “Until you’re eighteen.”

My mouth popped open, and I made a choking sound while my brain tried to come up with the words to articulate my feelings.

“And don’t ever try hurting yourself again,” he growled.

Completely ignoring his reprimand, I half-yelled, half-gasped, “Are you kidding me?” as the shock of finally understanding his standoff attitude toward me wore off, and my brain started functioning again.  “That’s the problem?  We almost just died. We almost lost a chance for an ‘us’,” I flailed a hand back and forth between us, “and you’re worried about how old I am?”

“Bethi.”

“Don’t ‘Bethi’ me,” I hissed.  “First stop, I’m molesting your butt, and you’re going to like it!”  We both felt the pull, we both had feelings for each other, and I suffered dream after dream because the timing wasn’t right for him?  What did he think a few months would do for us?

I picked my blade up from the ground before the literal meaning of what I’d just said sank in.  Luke’s smirk didn’t help cool my temper.  I stomped off—as much as I could with a gigantic cut decorating my stomach and aches in places I hadn’t known I possessed—in the direction I hoped led toward his bike.  I slayed small saplings and maimed trees in my wrath.  He trailed behind me, wisely remaining quiet.