Page 35 of Live Love Lasso

Wrapping my arms around my torso, I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. His tattoo was hurting, and he wanted to see the mustangs, so we flew out there. The storm came, and they stampeded. He fell and they—they…” My voice trails off as a sob erupts from me.

Bluebell pulls me into her arms and croons softly, “There, there, honey. Seems like he’s gonna be fine, and you’re fine too. You had a right good scare, but it’s going to be okay, alright? We’re here for you.”

Relief floods my system.

“He’s awake!” Varek barks. “Get back here.”

We rush to the bedside. Furyon’s struggling upright, pale eyes wide as he looks around the room. When his gaze lands on me, relief fills it, and he sinks against the pillows.

“Lemon, thank gods, you’re fine.” He shoots upright. “You ain’t hurt, are you?”

I shake my head.

Furyon looks between us. “What happened? How’d I get here? The last thing I remember…” He reaches up and rubs a hand along his neck where the wound was. His fingers come away sticky with blood.

Now that he’s awake, the reality of what just happened hits me hard. He’s mine, my mate. And we all know it, based on the awkward silence that follows.

Varek clears his throat. “Sounds like the mustangs trampled you pretty good. Lemon flew you back here and called us. I happened to be there, and if you can believe it, I was a healer’s assistant before I got into property development.” He gives me a careful look. “Seems like you’re alright now, though.”

“Okay.” I beg Varek with my eyeballs not to say anything.

“Mmm, I’m gonna head out too.” Bluebell grabs Oz by the neck and shoves him toward the door. “See ya later. Feel better, Furyon!” The trio disappears toward the front of the cottage as Furyon stares at me.

He cocks his head to the side, rubbing at his neck again. “That was weird.”

I can’t find the right words, so I nod.

I am in deep doodoo shit.

Furyon

I’m lightheaded, and Lemon’s room is spinning. I can’t seem to put two coherent thoughts together, and I don’t remember coming here. But she’s in front of me, and she ain’t injured. It could have gone so badly. All I want is connection, so I pull her on top of me and yank a blanket over us. Burying my face in her hair, I scent her.

The pungent tang of my blood mixes with every other smell. Her scent’s edged with fear, and I hate that, so I haul her higher up and bury my face in her neck.

“Better,” I murmur. “You okay, city girl?”

A soft sob is my answer.

Running my hands up the back of her shirt, I grip her neck with one and stroke with the other. “I got you, baby. We’re both fine.”

Another sob gets muffled in the pillow. “The horses aren’t fine,” she says, reminding me of where we started our evening.

“No, they’re not.” I press a line of kisses down the side of her neck, basking in her presence. “And I’m gonna figure out why that is, Lemon, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I didn't do it,” she grumbles.

I pull her back down and take her mouth softly, slicking my tongue over that plump lower lip. “I know you didn’t. I never really thought you did.”

“Lies,” she says with a sniffle. But she kisses me back. My blood seems stronger here. Almost like…

“Furyon, I have to tell you something," she whispers. She sits upright and plants her hands on my chest, tucking long hair behind her ear. Her eyes fill with tears as she stares at me. “I, I tasted your blood while you were bleeding. I couldn’t help it—it was pure instinct. But it’s killing me now because you didn’t consent to that, and I did it while you were literally dying, and now⁠—”

I put a hand up to stop her. Because the pieces are clicking into place now, slowly but surely. Scratching at my neck, I remember the sharp slice of hooves when I got trampled. “I was bleeding,” I say. “I remember that. A lot.”

“You were.” Her tone is cautious.

“I’m not now.”