Redemption

Chapter Two - Rogue or Not

Chapter Two 

Michael held up a fragment of a broken mirror, and used a disposable razor to scrape away the stubble from his chin.  Rogue or not, a man still had to keep himself together.  When he found Hannah, he wanted to be sure that he looked his best.  He swore as he nicked himself right on the bottom of his chin.   

“You alright there, boss?” Frankie asked from his spot by the fire.  He was playing cards with his brother Boyd.  Boyd didn’t talk, and Frankie wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but they were loyal.  Out here in the world, without a pack to protect you, you took whatever you could get.  And Michael had been gathering up strays to himself.  The brothers were the first to join him, followed by the husband-wife duo of Caroline and Lonnie.  Lastly, they had picked up an older lady called Sarah.  Together the six of them made a sort of unofficial pack.  Nobody called him Alpha, but it was unanimously agreed that he was the leader.   

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael swiped at his bleeding chin with his shirt collar.  He sniffed and glanced around him.  “I want to move out soon.” He rubbed absently at his chest.  “We are getting close, real close this time.  I can feel it.” 

“That’s what you said last time,” Caroline complained.  She was a plain looking woman, with straight brown hair that she wore scraped back severely into a thin braid.  Her mouth always seemed to be set in a grim line, and she had about as much shape as a tree trunk.  But she had proven herself as a competent fighter and hunter. 

Lonnie on the other hand was a royal pain in the ass.  A consummate know-it-all who had an opinion on everything, but took responsibility for nothing.  They never discussed WHY they were all pack-less, by unspoken agreement, but Michael often wondered if Lonnie had annoyed his previous Alpha to death, and the poor man had thrown him out just to get some peace.  Michael didn’t like the man, but conceded to his presence in their rag-tag group just because there was safety in numbers.  And as long as he was with other werewolves with social interaction, he knew he was safe.  Not from hunters or haters, but safe from himself.  Safe from having his human half wither away until he became feral. 

He shuddered at the thought, and immediately his mind turned to Hannah.  She’d been alone for months.  At first her movements had been calculated and precise, but in the last few weeks they had become increasingly erratic, like she no longer had a plan or a destination.  She no longer took any precautions to mask her scent or hide her tracks.  Last night they had found a fresh kill with her scent all over it.   

He was close, so close... but was he already too late? 

What would he do if his little mate had already gone feral?  They say once a wolf has turned, there is no bringing them back.  He swallowed away the difficult thought.  She had to be okay.  She just had to.  He knew she was incredibly strong and resilient, and she knew better than anyone how to survive as a rogue.  Once the thought of rogues had turned his stomach with revulsion.  But now the tables had turned.  The high and mighty Alpha Bishop was now just a lowly rogue himself, trying to survive alone, while he searched the wilds for his lost mate. 

It didn’t matter that the little minx had rejected him on first meeting.  That had been his fault, he admitted.  He hadn’t exactly received her with warmth and joy and proclamations of love.  And yeah, he’d been intent to kill her brother, and he would have killed her too, if she hadn’t stepped out of the woods looking like a tiny golden angel and smelling like heaven.  He ruffled his hands through his hair, which was entirely too long and shaggy now.  Gods, what he wouldn’t give to sit in a proper barber chair and have his favorite stylist undo the damage.   

Michael Huffed.  “Break camp, I want to move out.“ He pulled off his t-shirt and shifted into his wolf.  It was big and black and powerful, and just as handsome and charismatic as the man.  Not to be boastful, but Michael knew perfectly well that he was an amazing specimen of both man and animal, and he knew how to use that to his advantage.  But for now, his mind was on finding Hannah.  He put his nose to the forest floor and began weaving through the trees, searching for the sweet, elusive scent.  He finally picked it up near the stream, and howled to his followers.  She was close.  Closer than she had ever been before.  He wanted to take off at a dead run, but that was a sure way to lose the scent.  Instead, he forced himself to go slowly, keep his nose to the ground like a bloodhound, and keep on the trail.  In his head he was thinking, “Hang on baby, I’m coming for you.”