Page 21 of His Lost Mate

Suddenly, something in the forest drew his attention.

“That’s them, isn’t it? They’re close, aren’t they?” Phoebe whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jonah nodded, his hand tightening on the hilt of the knife he held. “And that’s on me. Stay close—no matter what happens.”

Phoebe looked at him, her eyes wide with fear but steady. “What are we going to do?”

Jonah glanced ahead, his sharp instincts calculating their next move. “We fight if we have to. Otherwise, we keep moving.” Jonah gathered their things while they got dressed and into their outerwear. “No matter what happens, you keep moving along that tree line into the morning sun. Got it?”

She nodded. They moved out quietly. He was surprised as he loaded their pack that she set out dishes and started the coffee. “Maybe they’ll think we’re coming right back,” she said in answer to his unasked question.

“Clever girl,” he said with a grin.

They slipped out the door and crossed the open field that surrounded the cabin, then made their way into the trees and headed east. The night before hadn’t done her any harm. In fact, both her mood and her physical condition seemed better.

All around them, the forest came alive with sound—branches snapping, heavy boots crashing through the snow to the frozen ground, and the distant echo of voices. Jonah scanned the dense underbrush, pulling Phoebe down to huddle beside him, her breath visible in the icy air. He could feel her tension, her body taut with adrenaline, but she stayed silent, trusting his lead.

The faint sound of a radio crackling followed by muffled words made him curse under his breath. The group had closed the gap faster than he’d anticipated. He’d spent too much time between her legs and then had wanted to get some rest. His heart pounded as he guided Phoebe deeper into the forest, using the terrain to mask their movements.

But the terrain turned against them. A sudden shout rang out, followed by the distinct crack of gunfire. The sharp sound echoed through the trees, and Phoebe stumbled as a branch splintered near her head.

“Move!” Jonah growled, pulling her behind a thick tree as more shots rang out. He peered around the trunk, his sharp eyes catching the glint of weapons in the distance.

“There’s too many,” Phoebe gasped, her voice laced with panic. “Jonah?—”

“I said stay with me,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before he could say more, a figure emerged from the shadows, rifle raised. Jonah reacted on instinct, lunging forward with deadly precision. Drawing a knife from his boot, Jonah stabbed it into the man’s shoulder, a grunt of pain barely having time to escape before Jonah withdrew the knife and pulled it across the assailant’s throat. The man fell back as Jonah turned, his movements fluid as another man charged, finding his blade before he could bring a gun to bear. Jonah caught the strike on his forearm, the assailant’s blade grazing Jonah’s skin before he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, dropping him instantly.

Phoebe screamed behind him, and Jonah’s heart froze. He turned to see her struggling with an attacker, her fists flailing as the man tried to pin her down. Rage erupted within him, primal and uncontrollable. Jonah felt the familiar pull deep in his chest, the wild energy that came when he let his shifter side take over.

He managed to throw off his parka and boots before the mist rose from the ground, encompassing his body, swirling around him as his body began to shift. His skin burned, his muscles expanded, and his senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. Phoebe’s attacker jumped back. Jonah’s transformation was seamless, a surge of raw power that ended with his massive snow leopard form standing between Phoebe and her attacker.

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as Jonah growled low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through the forest. He lunged, claws flashing, and the man screamed as Jonah struck him down with brutal efficiency.

Phoebe scrambled back, her eyes wide as she watched the snow leopard unleash its fury on their assailants. Two more men appeared, one firing a shot that grazed Jonah’s side, the other swinging a club. Jonah roared, the sound deafening, and pounced on the first, his claws raking across the man’s chest before he spun to slam his powerful body into the second, sending him crashing into a tree.

The fight was savage, a blur of claws, teeth, and blood. Jonah’s mind was a mix of instinct and strategy, every move calculated to protect Phoebe. His father’s lessons rang in his head—stay unpredictable, use the environment, and never leave your back exposed.

A final assailant charged with a knife, and Jonah caught him mid-stride, his jaws closing around the man’s arm with bone-crushing force. The man screamed, dropping his weapon as Jonah threw him aside like a rag doll. The remaining attackers scattered, their shouts fading as they fled into the forest.

Jonah turned, his body heaving with exertion, his eyes locking on Phoebe. She was on the ground, clutching her arm, blood seeping through her fingers. He padded closer, his massive frame lowering as he nuzzled her gently, a low, rumbling growl escaping his throat.

“What are you?” Phoebe’s voice was shaky, barely above a whisper as she looked around. “Jonah? Is that... you?”

He stepped back, the mist swirling around him again as his body shifted back to human form. Jonah stood before her, blood streaking his bare chest, his breathing heavy.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice rough, the look in his eyes softening as they met hers. It only took a few moments for Jonah to scavenge what clothes he needed from their attackers and to redress. He crouched beside her, his hands brushing her hair back from her face. “You’re hurt.”

Phoebe stared at him, her gaze flicking between his human form and the bloodied ground around them. “You’re some kind of mutant,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I prefer the term shifter, but yes,” Jonah admitted, his jaw tightening. “And you’re alive because of it.”

Phoebe exhaled shakily, her hand gripping his wrist as he examined her injury. “You’re... amazing,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Jonah froze, his heart twisting at the vulnerability in her voice. He leaned closer, his forehead touching hers for a brief moment. “You’re going to be fine, and we’ve shown them that trying to take us will be costly,” he murmured, his voice low and fierce. “We need to get away from this area.” He grabbed a scarf from one of the downed men. “Wrap this around your arm. Hold it tight. Once we’ve put some distance between us, I’ll take a look at it. You did well. Now let’s get out of here; I’ll keep you safe.”

The forest was eerily quiet as Jonah guided Phoebe through the dense underbrush, her steps faltering with every passing moment. He could feel the heat of her blood through his fingers where he steadied her, the injury on her arm still fresh and seeping through the makeshift bandage. His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and fear.

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