Savage Exile: Lion Hearts Book Five, стр. 44

The second was faster, but still slower than the rest. Breath bursting in the air, heart pounding with exertion, he let his paws eat up the ground between them. He could already feel the blood rushing over his tongue.

A life for a life. That was what they deserved.

Something deep in his head scratched at him that he was wrong and wasn’t thinking clearly, but he swatted that whisper away like an annoying gnat. He knew what he had to do.

A big, black bear slammed to a stop in front of him. He banked to the left, trying to go around her, but Dash was right there.

Rhys stumbled to a stop. What the fuck were they doing? Their enemies were right there, and they were letting them get away!

He lifted his lip and let off a snarl, then turned to cut around them. Both moved to block him in again.

Fuckers. Assholes. They thought they could pull him off the hunt?

He dug his claws into the dirt and snarled again. The standoff lasted all of three seconds before Rhys whirled. He slammed his shoulder into Dash, hissed at Colette, then swerved around them both to race into the night.

He had to save her. He had to kill them before they killed her.

Blonde hair, auburn hair. Blue eyes, green eyes. He had no idea which he meant, but that didn’t matter when he had the trail of killers in his nose.

* * *

Rhys braced an arm against the wall of the shower and twisted the knob. Water dripped off his body, but no amount of scrubbing had made him feel clean or sane.

He’d lost himself the night before. He knew he chased consortium lions, but every part of him conflated those fuckers with Hannah’s killers. Past and present bled together until he’d fallen back on the same old fury. It was his constant companion, always looking for a place to wedge into even when the world was looking a little brighter.

But that was the lie. He didn’t have a bright world. He didn’t have happiness. He was rotten on the inside.

With a growl, he battered the shower curtain to the side and stepped into the cramped bathroom. He scrubbed the towel over his hair and stiffened. Over the scent of fresh soap, he smelled her. That thin thread of juniper and rain snaked under the door and tried to wrap a leash around his neck.

He closed his eyes and wished he was dreaming. Wished he could be someone else. Anyone else. A normal man with normal lines of thinking would be a nice start.

Rhys yanked open the door as soon as he was dried and dressed. His eyes landed on Sage immediately. She sat on the edge of his bed with her hands clasped in her lap. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and the eyes she turned on him were wide and bright with her inner lioness.

He paused in the bathroom doorway and leaned a shoulder against the frame. “For someone who doesn’t like her own privacy violated, you sure didn’t have any trouble making yourself at home.”

She snapped straight. Hurt flashed over her face and through her scent. “I was worried about you,” she said in a rush. “You were supposed to come over last night and then you didn’t—”

“So you decided on a little breaking and entering,” he said in a hard voice.

She jerked away like she’d been slapped. Rhys’s lion snarled and swiped claws through his middle, but he didn’t take back the words. What could he even say? That he was a fucking loon steadily working his way to needing Trent to put an end to him? That he was too violent and angry, still, after six fucking years? Try as he might, he couldn’t heal the wounds he carried. He couldn’t infect her, either.

So he stayed silent. Jaw clenched, hating every pain-filled inhale he took, he kept his damn mouth shut. She deserved someone who wasn’t a monster or a killer or lost his shit when he needed to keep his head on straight.

Sage pushed to her feet and took a cautious step forward. Her hands fluttered at her side as if she wanted to reach for him, but wasn’t sure if she should. “Colette told me what happened last night. Why did you go after them alone?”

The quietness of her voice killed him. The last month had done wonders for her. She’d found her feet and started living again. Hell, she’d cobbled together her own little dance studio just to make a frightening room tolerable. If he’d been a better man, he would be sourcing what she needed for flooring and bolting fancy ballet bars to the damn wall.

Instead, he was planning on tracking down consortium fucks and finishing them off the same as he’d done to the two he’d found the night before.

“You should leave,” he told her gruffly.

Auburn hair turned blonde. Green eyes turned blue.

The image burned into his head, then flickered, and Sage stood in front of him again.

His lion roared as pain surged through him.

He’d failed Hannah. Those hunter assholes rolled right up to their den and killed her for sport. She hadn’t deserved death, not like him. He should have died that day. She’d been the sweetest creature in existence, turning away even from killing spiders, but they still shot her.

He was failing Sage. Those consortium bastards didn’t know how to leave well enough alone. She’d worked so hard to find her feet, but they were still circling like vultures and waiting for any moment to strike.

He’d been the one to let two get away, just the same as he’d waved off Hannah’s killers days before they struck.

He shouldn’t have gotten close to Sage. Not when he was still a fucking mess. Not when she’d be left to suffer when he lost that final fingernail grip on sanity.

“Rhys?”

Heat blasted through him as her hands connected with his arm, but he killed that