Redemption

Chapter Three - Michael's Mate

After snuffling around in circles a few times, Michael was forced to lift his nose from the ground and look around. The scent had stopped abruptly... too abruptly.  She had lead him straight into a narrow ravine.  There was only one way in and one way out.  He hadn’t lost her scent, she had doubled back on herself.  Not only that, he realized with a groan, but she had lead him here on purpose.  He wasn’t hunting her... she was hunting him.  Crazy, cunning woman. 

He shifted back into his human form, and took his sweats from Sarah.  The woman had drawn the short straw this trip, and had the unfortunate duty of carrying the pack with their clothes.  He yanked the worn cotton pants up and hastily tied the strings.  “Eyes open,” he called to his group.  “She’s close.  Probably watching us right now.” 

Everyone turned, scanning the banks of the ravine, peering into the shadows of trees, looking for Michael’s mate.  Michael's crew was tired of tracking this girl.  They’d covered countless miles, and had too many near misses.  They were all ready to call it quits, but the instinct to survive kept them following Michael through the wilds.  Michael was a true alpha.  He had the strength, the cunning, the charisma that drew them in, that unspoken promise of protection that came from being included in his circle. 

But it seemed like the chase had ended in another dead end.  Frankie and Lonnie pulled on their clothes and kicked at the gravel.  “Your ghost girlfriend has eluded us again,” Lonnie growled, and threw himself down in the sand. 

Michael rubbed at his chest and continued to scan the tree line.  “No... No, she’s close.  She’s so f*****g close I can feel it...” 

“You need to let it go,” Sarah growled.  “Has it occurred to you that you are chasing a woman who doesn’t want to be caught?” 

Of course, it had occurred to him. And he rejected that idea as readily as she had rejected him the first time they’d laid eyes on each other.  She may not want him, but she needed him, whether she liked it or not.  He took deep breaths from the air, but the scent was gone... how could it be so strong, and then simply vanish into thin air?

Hannah knew how to cover her own scent with medicinal herbs, but she’d stopped doing that weeks ago.  He dragged his hands through his hair in frustration and turned back toward the river.  His feet dragged as he moved to the sandy bank and knelt down to cup his hands in the cold, clear water.  He splashed his face first, and then brought up a handful to his mouth.  His eyes moved over the water, and he thought for a moment he saw the glimmer of a fish moving near the far bank.  He sat back on his heels and scanned the surface of the water, searching for tell-tale signs of feeding trout. 

The water suddenly erupted in front of him, and a tiny figure exploded out of the water and launched itself at him with a primal scream.  He didn’t even have time to stand before she hit his chest like some kind of cold, angry water nymph.  She slashed at him, catching him across his chest with a sharp piece of broken glass bound to a simple stick.  It was a crude weapon, but it cut deep.  Michael barely avoided the second swing, which was clearly intended for his neck.  He caught her wet slippery wrist, but she continued to writhe and twist and claw and bite.  Her sharp teeth sank into his forearm and clamped down. 

Michael roared in pain as he tried to extricate himself from his would-be assassin without hurting her,  but she was wet and slick and naked, and every time he tried to grab her she slid away, only to come at him again, eyes wild, teeth bared, clearly intent on only one thing.  “Hannah!  Hannah stop!” He yelled, but hearing her own name only seemed to make her more manic as she dove on him with her bare hands.  Finally he grabbed the only thing he could actually get a grip on, which was her thick, matted hair.  He hated to do it, but he pulled her safely away from his body, using his long arms to keep her out of reach.   

She snarled and growled, still fighting against him with all her strength.  Considering how small she was, that strength was considerable, but she was no match for a giant like Michael. 

“That’s Hannah?” Lonnie scoffed.  “Are you f*****g kidding me?” 

“Shut up!” Michael barked.  “Everyone turn your backs, now.  No one looks at her.”  He did his best to position himself between his ragtag band of rogue wolves and his mate, but with her still swinging and squirming, it wasn’t an easy thing to do.  “Frankie, give me your clothes!” 

“What?  But boss!” 

“Do it!” 

“Damn it all to hell.” Frankie swore, but he obediently pulled off the shirt he had just barely slipped on.  

“The shorts too.” 

“Awe come on Mike, she aint gonna fit in my shorts.  She could put her whole body in one leg hole.” 

Michael snatched the shirt with his free hand.  “Sarah!  Caroline!  I’m gonna need some help here.” 

The two women approached carefully.  Caroline circled the young woman, shaking her head.  “You’re too late, Michael.  She’s gone feral.” 

“No,” Michael growled.  “It's it not too late.” But looking into her eyes, he wasn’t so sure.  “Hannah, I’m really sorry... but I’m going to have to restrain you.  Please trust me, baby, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

She screamed again, and this time lashed out at Sarah, who was trying to approach her from behind.  Her sharp, jagged nails raked across Sarah’s cheek, leaving red, bleeding welts.  “Oh she’s a peach, Michael.  I can see why you dragged us all over the Northeast Kingdom to find her.”  Sarah spat, and wiped the blood off her cheek. 

“Okay, that's enough.” Michael growled, and pulled Hannah’s wet body into his bleeding chest, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pinning her arms to her side.  She still tried desperately to lash out, to kick, to bite, but she no longer had the leverage to reach anyone.  Michael breathed in deep breaths of her sweet scent, like fresh baked sugar cookies.  Despite the burning pain of the wounds on his chest, everywhere their bodies touched, sparks erupted like sparklers on the Fourth of July.  Her chilled wet skin felt like heaven against him.  He’d been waiting for months for this, to touch her body, to feel her against him, to wrap himself up in her essence. 

Okay he’d pictured something a little more romantic than this.  A little resistance, sure.  She was strong and feisty, but in the end, she would melt into him, overcome by his irresistible charm and animal magnetism.  But at the moment, his charm seemed to be failing him.  Sure, he hadn’t expected that she’d greet him with open arms, but he also hadn’t expected that she would try to kill him.  “Hannah, baby, just calm down--” He tried to turn her slightly in his arms so that he could see her eyes.  He needed to see into her eyes, needed to see that some part of her was still there.  “That’s it, see?  You’re okay...” 

She was so okay that she was able rear back in his arms and drive her knee directly between his thighs.