Fingers fumbling, she pulled the snap on the saddle and yanked the rifle. She shoved a bullet in the chamber and pulled it to her shoulder. Tight, just like Dad taught her. Aim. Steady. Slow breaths, one, two, hold on the third. Shit! Jenner and Titus were just a mass of fur and teeth as they warred in the dim glow of the smoldering fire. She didn’t want to hit Jenner. Couldn’t hit him. She loved him.
They weren’t disconnecting at all, latched onto each other as they fought to the death.
Jenner ghosted her a look and let off a growl. What kind of directions was he giving her? Shoot? Shoot now?
He spun around and slammed Titus to the ground so this must be it. The chance he was giving her, the clear shot. With trembling hands, she lifted the scope and wished to God there was more light than this. She zeroed in on Titus, but just as she pulled the trigger, Jenner let off a frantic snarl. She jerked the gun a millimeter as she brushed the trigger and suddenly, Titus went mad. Snarling, roaring, charging toward her. She whimpered and chambered another round, but he was coming too fast. Just a few yards before he reached her, Jenner pulled down the man-eater’s back end, slamming him to the ground. And with a sob, Lena pulled the trigger again.
And this time, she didn’t miss.
Titus went limp and let off a long breath—his last. The fury in his eyes glazed over to emptiness as the rifle sagged in Lena’s arms. Desperate to get away from him, she staggered backward and clicked the safety on.
Jenner was glaring at her, his body heaving with breath and his fur matted with red. Sure, Titus looked worse off, but Jenner was hurt.
He paced behind Titus, his fevered eyes on her.
“What? You said shoot!” At least she thought he did.
Jenner let off a pissed roar and disappeared into the woods behind him. And when he came back, naked and dripping crimson from slash marks across his torso, the anger in his eyes hadn’t dimmed one bit. “I meant run, not shoot, Lena! For fuck’s sake, you could’ve been killed!”
Her mouth dropped open as anger rippled through her body. “You’re damn right I could’ve been killed. I was practically a burrito in that tent when he attacked, Jenner! Where were you?”
Jenner opened his mouth, then closed it again. He narrowed his eyes and hooked his hands on his bare hips. He jammed a finger at the limp grizzly. “I was hunting him.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t have to because he was hunting us first! And you’re welcome!”
She pushed the gun back into its holder and stormed off to clean up all of her belongings strewn around camp. And now she was crying harder. Not only was she scared half to death by what had just happened, but she was dealing with Jenner’s anger on top of that.
“Hey,” he said, hand on her shoulder as he pulled her around. He hugged her close and whispered, “Shhhh,” as she really broke down.
“I don’t understand bear-growls, Jenner. You backed off Titus, and I thought you were giving me room to shoot.”
“And you did so fucking good. You were a warrior. I mean, yeah, most people’s instinct would be to run—”
“But he was hurting you.”
Jenner huffed a laugh and turned his head, staring at Titus’s still form. With a long sigh, he murmured, “Woman, you’re terrifying.”
“I’m terrifying? I just saved your ass.”
“And you broke rule number two.”
“Rule number—” She squinted and tried to remember what he’d said, and when it dawned on her, she jerked back. “I shot you? Where?” She was shrieking again.
“It’s not bad,” he muttered, pulling his arm in for a better look and, son of a cock-chafer, sure enough, there was a hole in his bicep, bleeding freely.
“Ooooh,” she said, fluttering her fingers over the injury helplessly. “I didn’t mean to do that, but you shouldn’t have growled at me and distracted me in the first place. I had a good shot.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “You practically shot yourself.”
Jenner reared back like she’d just thrown cold water on him, but humor swam in his still dark eyes. “Are you blaming this on me? Seriously?”
Primly, she lifted her chin. “I’m sorry I shot you.”
“I give you two damn rules to follow, and you break one less than four hours after I laid them down,” he grumbled, making his way toward the first aid kit, which was currently lying by the fire, wide open with its contents scattered across the ground.
He bent down, long, powerful legs folding beneath him, and picked up a package of bandages. “Would you mind?”
“That is not enough for all of”—she waved her hand at the gore on his torso—“that.”
“These will be fine. The bullet went straight through and clipped a bone, though, and while it heals, I’d rather not get dirt packed in it.”
“Do you get infections?” she asked, a sliver of worry snaking through her.
“No, but it sucks having your body push dirt out of you slowly.”