“Sounds like you’ve got us covered. It’s your show.”
Indeed, it had been, from the second he exploded into her life. Ryon, infuriating her, capturing her heart, then wringing it like an old dishrag. If he didn’t get help soon, she’d lose her mate. It was that horribly simple.
After a few hours, the forest began to lighten enough to see. He took off the goggles and she no longer had to hang on to him. When she was finally able to study Ryon from behind, even her limited view couldn’t hide his condition.
Sweat dripped off the ends of his blond hair, making it appear darker, and his T-shirt was soaked. She wasn’t so dry herself, but she didn’t have a sky-high fever. He walked stiffly, stumbling now and then, boots dragging as though every step caused agony. And he never once complained.
Around midmorning, the banks of the river appeared. Ryon, however, kept to the cover of the trees, pushing them hard and not stopping for a break until nearly noon. When he did, he slung his pack and rifle to the ground, backed against a tree, and slid to the ground without a word. He removed two bottles of water from his pack and offered one to her.
Daria took it gratefully, forcing herself not to gulp. Ryon drained his in a few swallows. Her stomach growled, and she fetched a couple of the stolen granola bars, holding one out to him. To her dismay, he shook his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head back.
She ate hers, worried about the lines of strain on his face. He had purple smudges under his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed. Finishing the snack, she wiped her palms and scooted next to him.
“Drop your pants, honey. Let’s have a look at the leg.”
With a heavy sigh, he worked them down to his calves and leaned back again, not even bothering to make a joke about her need for him to get naked. Her gaze dropped to his right thigh and she received a violent shock. A small, neat hole marred the flesh about three inches above the bandages.
“You’ve been shot!” she exclaimed. “Dammit, Ryon, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because there’s nothing you can do. It hurts, but it’s not bleeding much, and I can walk.”
“Yes, I can do something, even if it’s not much. You’re going to take some aspirin, even if I have to shove them down your throat. Do you understand?” she insisted.
In his weakened state, he wouldn’t win this one, Daria told herself as she dug for them. Shaking out four pills, she handed them to him, along with her water. He scowled, and she returned it. As she predicted, he gave first.
“Well, I guess they won’t kill me any faster.”
“That’s not funny.”
Next, she unwrapped the bandages around his thigh. Her triumph over the medicine was short-lived. The wounds were infected, no question. Each puncture oozed fluid. They should’ve healed over by now, given his special abilities, but the surrounding flesh was swollen and red. Angry crimson streaks brushed his leg. Poison.
Daria had never felt so helpless. Ryon was in terrible danger, and she couldn’t do a thing to help him. She rinsed the bite marks with the remainder of her water, then wrapped his leg in fresh bandages. There wasn’t anything more to do.
Ryon pulled his pants up and closed his eyes. He was still for so long, she thought he’d fallen asleep. God knows he needed the rest. She’d almost given in to her own fatigue when he spoke in a low whisper.
“Never forget I love you. More than my life, more than anything.”
She touched his face. “Never. Same goes for me. You’re my world now, and I won’t rest until we’re both safe.”
He looked away, staring out over the river for several minutes, unblinking. Daria had never witnessed such misery. He was close to giving up, and she could not let his spirits dip that low.
“Say, do you realize you haven’t been tormented by your ghosts much lately?” she asked.
“They haven’t bothered me in a while. I think that’s because of you.” He smiled at her. “You ground me. Now I only see them if I need to—which I hope won’t be very often.”
“That means you’re strong. You’re not going anywhere, you hear me?”
“Yeah. I do, baby.”
They sat together for a time, collecting themselves. When he was ready to leave, he simply stood next to her and waited. She rose and shrugged on her pack, glancing at him. His expression was calm, accepting. That scared her almost more than she could handle.
The rest of the day, Ryon didn’t speak. He’d disappeared inside himself. This wasn’t the smiling, confident man she’d first met. She wanted that man back. She loved him.
As horrible as the day had been, the evening was much worse. She pitched the tent for them because he could barely stand any longer. He accepted the help in silence, face drawn. Usually, they would sit outside the tent and talk. Or make love. Tonight, he crawled inside, period.
Determined to at least try to cheer him, she went in after him. He lay on his side, eyes closed, an empty bottle of water beside him. She reached out to touch his shoulder, then decided not to push too hard.
“Can I fix you one of those instant dinners?”
Silence.
“You haven’t eaten all day. You need to eat if you’re going to have any strength to finish the hike. How about some jerky?”
Nothing.
“God, Ryon, try to shift! Please!”
“Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Baby, just don’t.”
Grabbing his shirt, she forced him to his back and shouted right into his face. “You don’t! Don’t you dare give up on me!” She smacked his chest as he stared at her, wide-eyed. “Shift, you pussy! Shift now, goddammit!”
The effect was instant. In less than five seconds, Ryon’s silver wolf was struggling to free himself of his clothing, snarling and pissed as hell. If the situation wasn’t so dire, she would’ve smiled. As it was, she put a calming hand on his broad head.
“Calm down, big guy.” He stilled and then whined, nuzzling her hand and scooting into her side. “Let me get these clothes off you. Stay in your shift as long as you can. Then I’ll help you get dressed again.”
The longer he could stay in wolf form, the better for his healing. At least he might be able to make it to the transport. Carefully, she removed his clothes and examined his back leg. She couldn’t see the punctures for all the fur, but she hoped the wounds were improving at least a little.
Despite his earlier protests, he managed to hold his shift for almost half an hour before he morphed into human form again. Beside her, he was completely down for the count. But she thought he was breathing a tad easier, his color a bit more natural. On examination, she found the wounds on his thigh to be not quite as angry, and that sent a wave of relief washing through her.
Her mate had bought himself some time. Hopefully just enough.
Daria wasn’t sure how long she sat beside him, watching and worrying. Eventually, she gave in and slept.
By dawn, Ryon was shaking with the chills, teeth chattering, yet scorching heat radiated off his big body in waves. Alarm kicked her in the gut. The shift should’ve bought him more time, and if they didn’t get moving he’d be out of what little he’d gained.
She’d have to wake him. Laying a hand on his arm, she shook him gently. “Ryon? Wake up, we have to go.”
Several attempts later, he opened his eyes and stared at her with a dazed expression. For a few seconds, he had absolutely no clue where he was, and it scared the hell out of her. Then, awareness returned.
“Daria,” he croaked. “Take the spare water from my pack.”
“Why?”
“You’re going to meet the helicopter alone, then send the guys back for me.”
“No. No way,” she said in a steely tone. “That is so not going to happen. Get up. Now.”