Free Blood Moon Harvest (Seasons of the Moon) by SM Reine Page B

a jumble. He was trying to tell her that he had already gotten through pre-med, just for her, but it got lost somewhere between his brain and lips.
    Seth took a deep breath to try a different angle.
    “And with everything happening now—this Cain thing and missing werewolves and silver bullets…”
    She gave a little gasp. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
    He had to laugh. “Are you serious? I would never let you go, Rylie. I’d have to be stupid.”
    “Then what?”
    He braced himself, dropped to one knee, and pulled out the ring box.
    He watched the emotions flash over Rylie’s heart-shaped face. Confusion turned to surprise in a flash. Was that a good thing, or a bad thing?
    Rylie’s white-blond hair fluttered around her face in the midsummer breeze. Her golden eyes flashed. She bit her bottom lip.
    God, she was so beautiful.
    He swallowed hard. He had to ask now, before he lost his nerve.
    “Rylie… will you marry me?”
    Her mouth moved soundlessly.
    Then her eyes flicked over his shoulder, and that shock turned to fear.
    “Abel!” she cried. Not exactly the response he had been hoping for.
    A shot whip-cracked through the air.
    Seth had heard enough guns firing to recognize it instantly.
    He twisted to see what had gone wrong. Abel stood on the hill. A woman was behind him, gun drawn—Pagan.
    His brother put a hand to his side and tumbled to his knees.
    He had been shot.
    Seth’s gun was drawn and aimed in an instant. He fired off one shot, and then another; Pagan fled down the hill, leaving Abel bleeding on the grass.
    “Save him,” Rylie said with a growl, her spine hunched.
    “Wait—”
    But she was already gone. With a cry, her human form erupted.
    Blood sprayed. Blond hair puddled on the ground. Her clothes shredded, bones popped, and she fell to all fours.
    Within moments, the girl he had just asked to marry him was a sleek, golden wolf, almost more catlike than canine.
    Rylie looked at him for a moment as if to say, Don’t let him die.

    And then she vanished into the night, chasing Pagan.

T WO
    Injured
    Seth was fast, but not fast enough to keep up with a werewolf on the hunt. Save him , she had said. Of course she thought about Abel’s safety first.
    He ran up the hill to find his brother groaning and sweaty. His shirt was stained with blood.
    It looked bad. Really bad.
    He kept his tone light and teasing to hide his worry. “Were you spying on us?” Seth asked, lifting the hem to glance at the injury underneath. It was too dark to tell if the bullet had made it all the way through, but touching the area made his fingers sticky.
    Abel glared at him, lips drawn back in a grimace. “Proposing marriage in some muddy field? God, you’re such a tool.” That was a good sign. If he was being insulting, he probably wasn’t on the brink of death.
    Seth crouched and pulled Abel’s arm over his shoulders, helping him stand.
    They limped to the house together. Every step ripped a sound of pain from Abel’s throat, and by the time they reached the back door, he wasn’t walking for himself at all. He stumbled on the threshold.
    Seth dropped him on the kitchen floor.
    “Jesus,” Gwyn said, stepping in from the living room wearing her nightgown with a hammer in hand. Several of the werewolves from the barn were behind her, trying to see over her shoulder. “What happened?”
    Seth barked out one word: “Hunter.”
    Rylie’s aunt pointed at two of the wolves—Levi and Sora. “You two, come with me.”
    Then she stepped into the living room long enough to grab her shotgun and headed out the back door.
    “Turn on the lights,” Seth ordered, and Bekah hurried to obey.
    The fluorescents flared on, and he inspected his brother’s injuries. There was both an entry and an exit wound, and it was shallow. If Pagan had been using normal bullets, it wouldn’t have fazed Abel.
    But she had been using silver bullets.
    The skin was inflamed and red. Blood puddled underneath