Jake’s polar bear was on a rampage. Pure molten fury poured through his veins as Jake dragged Ray Donovan outside. He’d never felt like this. The anger, the urge to protect, and the terror that he’d already failed her.
With Jake’s teeth buried in Ray’s throat, Ray’s struggles didn’t last. His cries for help grew fainter and a long trail of blood was left in their wake. It felt like fucking justice.
The gunshot had caused enough of a disturbance that several motel guests had ventured out to see what was going on. Needless to say, a giant polar bear dragging a bleeding and unarmed man across the parking lot probably wasn’t what they’d expected. A few had screamed and run back inside but he’d seen one recording it all on his phone. Including the part where Jake dumped Ray in the grass across the way and then tore back inside on four bloody paws.
Halfway there, he remembered the too-narrow door where his wide bear hips had caught earlier, and mid-stride, he shifted back. His paws became feet and he had to throw his body backward to remain upright and keep from face-planting.
Someone gasped. He didn’t know if it was because they’d never seen someone shift before or because he was bare-assed for the good people of Blue Hole. Either way, he couldn’t give a single fuck. Delilah was in there. Hurt. The asshole had shot her. Nash’s vision was happening right in front of him.
He dashed inside and blinked furiously, forcing his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. But it wasn’t Delilah he saw first. It was Lyle. He was up on his knees in front of her, leaning closer and closer.
Jake growled and grabbed Lyle by his jacket, hauling him up and away from his woman. “Get away from her!” he yelled.
With his bear still just under the surface, he used all his strength, swinging Lyle around and letting go, sending him crashing into the small table in the corner. The table splintered and collapsed underneath the weight and Lyle fell with a grunt, Delilah’s knife clattering from his limp hand. Jake closed the distance and hauled him up, dragging Lyle onto his back and pinning him to the floor with a hand tight around his throat.
Lyle’s face reddened and he gagged.
Jake looked over at Delilah and found her eyes closed, blood leaking in a slow but steady stream from her gunshot wound. “Is she dead?” Jake screamed and the man shook his head, wincing.
“No,” Lyle said through a whisper. “She just passed out, I think.”
Jake growled and shoved Lyle away just as Lyle’s eyes rolled back and he passed out. “You better fucking hope so,” Jake said but Lyle didn’t stir.
Jake places two fingers against Delilah’s neck and felt for a pulse. It was there, barely. His shoulders slumped in sweet relief. Gingerly, he shook her face. “Delilah?” he called gently, biting back the urge to scream or cry or break something.
Her lids fluttered. “Mmm.” Her eyes opened, glassy with pain, but she smiled for him.
He almost collapsed in relief. “That’s my girl. Hell yeah. Okay, stay with me,” he said, texting Xavier with one hand and holding her cheek with the other. He sent the text for back up and medics with #911 and then turned his full attention back to Delilah. “Let me see, love,” he said, gently pulling the fabric of her shirt away to inspect the wound.
He eased her forward, hating the pain in her eyes at the movement, but relaxed when he saw the same small hole in her back. “It’s all the way through. No bullet inside,” he said, exhaling.
Delilah nodded as he set her back again. “That’s good, right?”
“Very good,” he said, smoothing her hair. In the distance, he could just barely make out the strains of a siren. “Help is coming,” he told her. “Just hang on.”
“I’ll try,” she said. He squeezed her hand but it remained limp in his. She blinked, swayed, and Jake steadied her to keep her upright. Her face, already coated in a sheen of sweat, went suddenly pale, leaving a greenish hue. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused on his. Fear sliced through him, raw and cutting.
“Just … feel my hand on yours,” he said, hating how fucking helpless that sounded. He squeezed her again, hoping to startle her more awake. She squeezed back so lightly and he looked down, barely registering the blood on his hands. Her blood.
“Your friend Nash got it partly right,” she said, smiling weakly.
He jerked his head up and stared at her, shaking his head.
“This isn’t your fault,” she said. “You didn’t kill me.”
“It is absolutely my fault,” he said, self-loathing hitting him like a bucket of ice. He hated this. He was completely fucking helpless right now and he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand that he’d dragged her into this and now she was dying. Because of him. Because of his history with Ray. He wanted to roar and rage and break things but he couldn’t make himself move. There wasn’t a single fucking thing he could do.
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you,” he said because it was the only thing he had left.
Delilah smiled. “Well, if that’s true, there’s only one thing left to do.”
“What?” His eyes went wide as he realized what she meant.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. When she opened them again, they were watery and pleading. “Do it, Jake. Claim me.”
His throat was dry as he said, “It could kill you.”
“As opposed to this?” she asked and dissolved into a raspy cough.
More blood spilled from the hole in her chest. Fuck. He couldn’t let her die like this. She was right.
She raised her hand slowly to Jake’s cheek. Her palm was clammy but it felt like everything when she touched him. “I want to belong to you, Jake. Please?”
It was all he needed to hear.
He leaned in close, bent low over her shoulder, just above the bullet hole, and bit her.