Page 58 of Sloth
Her mind stuck on the echo of his roar, of his denial. He didn’t want her gone, any more than she wanted to leave. Max wanted her to stay. She had to fight.Keep fighting, Sloan.The thought sent a surge of defiance through her. She kicked, twisted, reached for her ankle knife, missed. It wasn’t enough. She tried to throw boxes of emotion at the animals, pain, sleep, sorrow—anything. But her mind was a mess, in shattered pieces. She could only focus on the sensations in her body, and right now, they were in chaos.
Shot after shot cracked loudly as Max tried to execute her attackers. Whelps, whines and hard breaths exploded as the monstrous beasts bit, clawed, and scratched. Pain knifed her limbs, stabbed her legs, flashed at her face, and cut into her heart.
She wasn’t sure how long her stab-proof battle gear would hold. There was too much pain over her lower limbs to believe it had protected her.
Through the chaos, she heard Max shout, “I’m coming down.”
“No!”
Panic speared through her.Max.If he came down, he’d die. She wouldn’t let him die. No chance in hell. With all the resolve she could muster, she soaked up the blinding pain emanating through her body and relished it. She got to know it, studied it, and became one with it. Once she was sure the pain and she were friends, she fashioned the sensation into a psionic blade, adding the memory of herself bleeding from the palm. She hurtled her agony outward, amplifying it tenfold. Pain burst from her in a silent sonic boom. A gust of wind brushed outward, lifting sand and dust in its wake. Monsters screamed, screeched, and whimpered. They keeled from her body, rolling back as though punched—as though stabbed through the heart with a knife.
She didn’t wait to see if they recovered.
Releasing herself from the shackles of her rucksack, she forced her heavy limbs tomove. Every time she felt a stab of pain, she used it. She hurtled it outward, spearing anything within her radius. Shemoved.
“I’m coming,” she rasped, jumping up to grasp a protrusion on the rocky wall. “Go back up.”
“Sloan!” Max, already half down the wall, changed his trajectory. He scrambled back up, but then turned and shouted. “Wait. We should kill them while they’re out.”
Dammit. He was right.
“Stay there!” she ordered.
For a heart-wrenching moment, she couldn’t move. Her limbs locked. Panic knocked on a door to her brain.
“You can do this, Sloan. I know you can.”
She nodded, breathed deep and believed her mate. She could. She would.
Pushing down her fear, she let go. She dropped and landed on her feet then, using her knife, she systematically put each beastly nightmare out of its misery. One. Two. Three… she lost count and her heart ached with each kill. Some were just little bodies when sleeping. Some were enormous. All were monsters.Damn the Syndicate. Damn them to hell!
By the time she was done, her energy began to wane, but she pulled every bolt out of the dead animals and returned the quiver to her thigh. She synced her crossbow to her back and then threw her rucksack to Max, and then she climbed. Up the wall. Up to safety.
Up. Up. Up,she shouted in her mind. Fingers gripped any outcrop she could find, any protrusion, anything. She climbed with haste nipping at her heels.
Just in case.
In case there were more, she had to get to safety.
When a warm, steady grip latched around her wrist, she almost wept and let go. Lifting her other aching arm, Max caught her second wrist. He pulled, growling with effort, face reddening, veins bulging. Helping him with her feet, she scrambled over the ledge until she fell into his arms and they rolled across the limestone, locked in a punishing embrace.
Whimpering and panting, they held each other, faces buried in the other’s neck. Max’s big palm cupped the back of her head, arms like trembling rocks.
I’m alive.
Max is alive. The adrenaline that held her together, rapidly rushed down. Dizzying shudders gripped her body while Max refused to let go. Both laid there with their eyes closed, breathing in the comforting scent of the other. Musk, sweat, salt. Home. Safe.
Max’s hold relaxed and Sloan almost protested, but he only looked into her eyes as he freed her pack from her arm. He made her un-sync her bow and quiver. When the weight dropped, he rolled them until he was on top, thighs caging her hips. Eyes glistening with fury pinned her. He cupped her face and growled, “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”
She nodded, tears still brimming in her eyes.
“Don’t ever say goodbye.” Punishing lips slammed onto hers, and everything they couldn’t speak came through with a kiss. He claimed her in a euphoric haze of dueling tongues. Sloan clutched his head between her hands, just as he held her. Emotion swirled between them. Longing, want, and need. Need so strong she wanted to tear his clothes from his body and press her naked skin against his, to have nothing between them but a heartbeat.
And then her blood began to flow again. Pain flashed in every cell. Reality slammed home. She winced, drawing apart, gasping in the tepid night air.
“Shit,” she burst. “I think it got my leg.”
“You’re hurt.” A self-deprecating statement. A desire to come down to earth. “Of course you’re bloody hurt. I’m such a dickhead,” he muttered, and then his weight lifted. He ran his hands down her body, testing. “Where?”
