Page 8 of Titan’s Mate

Her gaze focused on the steaming mug. “I don’t suppose that’s for me?” she asked hopefully. She was starving, and also if she had something to do with her hands and her mouth maybe she wouldn’t say stupid things.

He seemed startled to realize he was holding it. “Yes,” he said. “Here.”

He handed it to her with exaggerated care, as though either she or the mug would break if he made one wrong move. She took a sip, closing her eyes to savor the warmth and chocolatey goodness.

When she opened her eyes he was still looming over her, staring.

“Um. Thank you?” she ventured.

“You’re welcome.”

Still staring.

Someone needed to say something, here, and it was her turn. But her brain was blank.

She did need to talk to him—that’s why she’d come. But she hadn’t expected to pass out in the woods in the middle of a screaming vision of demon hell, and then wake up in his cabin with no time to prepare.

“Why are you here?” he blurted out. “Why were you in my graveyard?”

Okay then. It seemed that fate had butted in, for better or for worse. Time to woman up. “I came to look for you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m dying. And when I do, I need you to cross my spirit to the other side.”

Chapter 4

Her words reverberated in Titan’s head.

I’m dying… dying… dying…

This was his punishment—another person he was supposed to save, dying before her time.

Needing him to cross her over.

Were the gods laughing? Waiting for him to fail again—waiting for the demons to take him this time, along with her?

But why would they sacrifice her to punish him?

He spoke through numb lips. “I don’t do that anymore. I can’t.”

Her face went stricken. “But—”

“No!” It came out a roar. His bear rose up inside him, furious in his denial. Fur sprouted down his arms. He felt the seams of his pants strain, his body rippling as he began to Change.

He couldn’t Change in here. He couldn’t let his bear anywhere near her—not when it was like this. She was staring at him, eyes wide in shock, and he knew his face was already halfway Changed, his eyes probably feral red.

Her mouth was moving. He thought she was apologizing, but he couldn’t hear her over the pounding of his own blood.

She had nothing to be sorry for.

He shoved out the door and blundered down the porch steps, in among the stone sculptures dotting his front yard. Half man, half bear, he swatted at them, knocking one over, trying to keep Bear from losing it for the second time tonight.

He caught a glimpse of her standing at the window watching him, but the light was behind her and he couldn’t see her face.

He didn’t need to. She had to be scared. He was dangerous—terrifying. He’d break her into tiny pieces.

He needed to put distance between them, but he didn’t know where to go. Just away.

He ended up at the crew’s target range—a large wooden shed with axe-throwing targets on the side, next to a level grassy area they used for a shooting range.

Titan crouched, pulling the bear painfully inside. When he was stable—sort of—he went inside the shed and dug underneath the boxes of spare ammo until he found Colt McCall’s whiskey stash, and liberated a bottle.