Page 3 of Savage Prince

It’s all the confirmation I need that his injury is as bad as it looks.

My relief is pierced by another wave of rage, ensuring I leave a trail of steam behind me as I swim for the seawall. I reach it a few minutes later and thankfully, before I can worry about how I’m going to lift Ford up onto the stone alone, Layla is there, reaching into the waves.

“Push from his bottom,” she calls out over the crash of the sea against the barrier. “I’ll lift his front legs.”

“Watch his left side,” I shout back as I shift my grip. “He’s hurt.”

Layla curses beneath her breath as she hauls Ford onto the slick stones, swearing louder as several students from Lupine jump over them on their way to the obstacle course at the end of the barrier. “What the fuck? Can’t you see he’s hurt? And he’s one of yours, asshole!”

“Don’t think so,” one douchebag calls back, laughing with his friends. “We don’t claim Variant-loving scum.”

Layla turns wide eyes to me as I climb out of the water. “What do we do? He’s still bleeding. Real bad.”

“He has to shift,” I say, leaning over Ford to catch his gaze. “Do you hear me, Ford? You have to shift. If you don’t, there’s no way we’re going to stop the bleeding in time.”

His front paw swipes sluggishly through the air before he lies still again, the only movement the shallow rise and fall of his ribs as he pants for air.

I look back toward the beach, but the medic wave runner is still onshore. Even if it left right now, chances are it would be too late. I whip my focus back to Ford, leaning down until my face is inches from his. “Help isn’t coming, Ford. You have to help yourself. And me. Because I can’t lose you. I can’t. I fucking refuse to let that happen.”

His beautiful eyes tighten around the edges, and I swear I can feel the regret flowing from him in waves.

He’s giving up. He’s going to leave me.

The realization makes tears explode from my eyes to stream down my face, leaving more steam behind.

“No,” I say, fisting his wet chest fur in my hands. “You can’t do this. You can’t leave me. You promised you wouldn’t. You said you wanted to be my person, my partner. And partners don’t leave. They fight.” I suck in a liquid breath, blinking through the steam. “Please, Ford. Fight for me. Please. I need you. I don’t want to stay here without you.”

And I don’t just mean Lost Moon.

I mean earth, life.

I don’t want to live without this man, a realization I’m sure would scare me if I had any room for that kind of fear right now. But I don’t, all I have room for is pure stubbornness.

I’m going to will Ford back to life. I refuse to take no for an answer. This isn’t the way it ends for us.

Us…

The thought gives me an idea.

Ford might not feel up to fighting for his own life right now, but he swore he’d fight for mine.

“It was Beck,” I say, giving Ford a little shake. “Beck was the one who attacked you.”

His eyes open wider, anger flickering in their depths.

“I saw it,” I continue, jabbing an arm to the left. “He’s probably lying in wait on the obstacle course right now, ready to take me out, too. Are you going to let that happen? Are you going to let some spoiled, evil, entitled piece of shit take out both of Zion’s Alphas? Is that how you want to go out, Ford? Because I sure as hell don’t. I want to finish this trial, get back to campus, and make him pay. We can do it. Together. I know we can.” I fight another wave of tears as I grit out, “You just need to man the fuck up and shift, asshole. Because if you die on me right now, I’m going to track you down in the afterlife and make you so sorry you made me care about you this much.”

Ford growls, a sound that makes my heart lift even before his hind legs begin to lengthen.

“That’s right,” I say, moving back to give him some space, Layla beside me. “Get pissed, get up, and let’s get even.”

It’s the slowest shift I’ve ever witnessed, and fairly disturbing to watch—especially when Ford’s bottom half is human and his top still mostly wolf—but eventually a fully human man lies beside me, and he’s no longer bleeding profusely.

I’m consumed by a wave of gratitude so intense, I can’t stop myself from throwing myself on top of him and hugging him tight. “You’re okay. Thank God, you’re okay.”

“I’m not,” he says, his voice weak and rough. “I’m pissed.”

I swipe at the tears still streaming from my eyes, doing my best to regain control. “Good. Use that. We still have to get through the obstacle course. They haven’t sent the medic and I don’t think they’re going to.”

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