Lightning forks in the sky, illuminating the landscape in a brief, terrible flash. The rain makes it impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. And through it all, I only see empty fields, thrashing trees, and no signs of her.
The mare bolted northeast. I saw that much before we were separated. Northeast, toward the old hunting grounds, toward the forest edge.
I ride.
Minutes pass like hours. The storm still refuses to let up. My clothes are soaked through, rain running down my face, but I don’t stop.
There! It’s her horse, standing near a fallen tree, reins tangled in branches.
But Bella is nowhere to be seen. She has to be close.
I dismount, secure both horses, and scan the area.
“Bella!” My voice is swallowed by thunder. “BELLA!”
Movement in the tree line. A flash of color other than green and gray. My feet carry me towards it, and relief pours into my heart when I find Bella huddled against an old tree stump.
Her arms are wrapped around herself, and she’s shivering. But she’s alive and otherwise unharmed.
“You came back,” she says, like she doesn’t quite believe that I’m here.
“Of course I came back.” I bend down and push the wet fabric aside to see if she’s hurt.
Her shoulder is badly bruised, but it doesn’t look fractured or dislocated. But she can’t ride. At least, not back to the chateau.
I need to get her out of the rain before hypothermia sets in.
“The chateau’s too far,” I tell her, pulling her against me. “There’s a hunting lodge half a kilometer north. Can you ride if I hold you?”
She nods, still shivering. I lift her onto my horse, then swing up behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her secure. Her body is cold against mine, shivering with shock. Her head lolls forward.
“Bella!” I cry out. “Talk to me.”
“About what?” Her voice is soft and groggy.
“Anything.”
She is quiet, and for a moment, I’m afraid that she’s passed out. Then, in a whisper hardly audible over the rain, she speaks.
“I didn’t know…”
My arm tightens around her involuntarily. “Didn’t know what?”
“What it meant,” her voice is tiny now, and her body is cold. “I thought…” She shivers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Bella!” I cry again, but she’s gone completely silent now.
Wind whips up around us. The storm is worsening, and the lodge is just ahead, a dark shape against even darker trees.
We make it inside as the lightning cracks directly overhead and I deposit her on a nearby chair. Her clothes are soaked from the top down. Her lips are blue. And her skin is clammy to the touch. There’s no time to waste.
I don’t have time to start a fire.
My body moves on automatic, and I quickly strip off my own clothes. Then, my hands reach out to undo the ruined silk of the blouse, and push the fabric off her shoulders. Layer after layer, I peel away the soaked clothing from her cold skin.
“C’mon, Bella,” I mutter as I work. “Stay with me.”
She doesn’t respond. I pull her close to me and my skin screams from how cold her body is. I reach over, grab an old wolf pelt from nearby, and throw it over both of us to trap what little heat there is.
