Page 57 of Sloth
“Don’t be a dick. I can leap higher. I’m stronger.”
He bit back his pride—too late. A terrible howl came from somewhere nearby as it sensed his pride and he knew they weren’t done.
“Hurry, Max!”
Damn it. She was right. He’d seen her strength first hand; his nose was still sore.
“Fine.” He released his rucksack from his shoulders and swung it up with an almighty swing. The pack sailed through the air, and just landed on the ledge with a thump. He placed one boot into her hands.
“One. Two.Three.” Sloan heaved. He launched, hands latching onto rocky protrusions. The top was still six feet away. Using the last of his reserves, he hauled his body heavenward, fingers scraping painfully, boots scrambling for purchase. But he made it. He climbed and breeched the ledge, rolled onto it, panting and heaving with breath.
Swiftly turning, he rolled to his stomach and reached down.
Sloan leaped toward him and landed a good three feet away, clutching outcrops with white-knuckled hands.
He froze, holding his breath.
A tsunami of animals breeched the forest and flowed into the clearing beneath her. Like a crashing wave, they hit the cliff wall, and soared upward, coming for Sloan.
“Hurry!” he bellowed.
She was too far for him to reach. Snarls, rips, snaps as the animals clawed up the rocky wall, caught her legs and tried to pull her down. Her face tilted toward him, eyes flashing desperately under the stars.
“I can’t—” she burst. “Too many of them.”
He had no rifle, only his knife. No, that was wrong. He had his Glock in his rucksack.
“Hold on, Sloan.” He raced to his pack, ripped it open. Relief had never felt so sweet as his fingers locked around the cold grip.
Her scream curdled the air. He slid back to the ledge, arm dangling down. More relief as he registered she hadn’t fallen, but in the torrid swarm of black beneath her, one animal had locked jaws around her ankle and tugged. Terrified, she’d slid down a few feet, enough distance to let other animals jump on her, latching onto her pack. They weighed her down. She wouldn’t last.
Max fired.
One beast fell off. Not enough.
“Get rid of the pack, Sloan!” he shouted.
Her panic-stricken face turned up to him, her body jostling as it was tugged from behind. Her grip slipped. Then Max felt a wave of calm, of warm love, of horrifying concession.
It came from her… why?
“I’m so sorry, Max,” she said, face twisted in sorrow. “Find Barry’s daughter.”
Then she let go of one hand, put two fingers to her lips and held them toward him. In slow motion, it came to him… This was their on-screen goodbye kiss.
She’d given up.
Sixteen
Max’sanguished face was the last thing Sloan saw as she released the rocky wall and let the animals tear her down. Jaws locked onto her rucksack, ripping and snarling. She shut her eyes and let the free fall enshroud her. The snapshot of his face stayed with her. At least this way, he’d be released from the pressure of the mating bond. At least this way, he could go forward and save Barry’s daughter.
With a bone-jarring thud, she landed on her back. The wind knocked out of her, but the pack broke her fall.
“NO!” A roar of male fury thundered through the night as animals converged on her.
She lifted her arms, blocking her face with only one thought:Max.
One word. One name. One pain.
