Page 76 of His Runaway Mate

Rex

The chase comes to its inevitable end at the base of a cliff. Tall rock ranges around in a bowl shape, and we have the exits covered. He is trapped against a sheer face he cannot climb, though he makes a hapless attempt at leaping up.

My pack settles as I move forward. They will leave this matter to me. If he somehow bests me, it will be their jaws he faces, but for now I am all he has to worry about.

The mad wolf turns to face me, panting. He is tired, but he has the energy of a creature who knows it is all about to end. A cornered, mad, feral beast is dangerous. His death is assured. The pack will see to that, but it is possible he will do damage to me before the end.

I step forward, head lowered, eyes fixed.

I expect a fight to the death.

I will give him a good end, an animal end. I will ensure that he leaves this planet with some measure of honor.

Then, instead of doing what any good animal does, Raymond shifts. He goes from his wolf form to his naked human one. He is scarred and he is that particularly kind of sinewy that only comes from a hard life lived badly.

“Are you going to kill me?” He laughs maniacally. “If you do, be sure to eat me. Flesh of my flesh is already ensconced in your pack. You will never be rid of m⁠—”

I don’t hear his last words, though I can extrapolate them from the rest of his ramblings as I leap at him. My jaws close around his throat and the powerful muscles in my neck and shoulders allow me to shake, rip, and tear until he is dead. It takes less than ten seconds for him to become a limp shell of a man.

I drop him and step back. I think he thought turning into his human form might save him in the end. He imagined I might play by a set of unspoken rules, be the good guy, do what he thought I’d feel I had to do and follow traditional human justice.

If there is life after death, he now knows just how wrong he was. And if not, I’m sure the moment my canines pierced his neck was just as instructive.

I feel a sense of calm completion coming over me. It is done. He will never hurt anyone again. Nicky will never have to…

“Sir…”

Someone says my name. Many of the pack have shifted now. Not all, but many. They look exhausted. I will have to call in transport for some of them, I think. We are not accustomed to long lethal hunts, and that is something that should probably be addressed. We’ve gotten soft, and…

“Rex?”

I turn around all the way to see Nicky standing behind me. She is naked, which means she must have followed us in her wolf form. I have no idea how she got out of the guarded room, and right now that does not matter.

I go to her as she stands, staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. My fear is that she will run, and I will have to hunt her again. I do not want to keep chasing my mate, but I know that what she has just seen will upset her. She might hate me forever for what I just did.

“You killed him,” she says. She sounds far away, as if she isn’t quite with me anymore. My stomach clenches with worry. I am concerned that one more thing might push her past the point of forbearance. How much is she reasonably supposed to take?

“Yes,” I say. “He attacked the doctor, and several other of my pack members, then he fled. I did what had to be done.”

She looks at me, tears welling in her eyes. I wish she had not seen that. I wish I could have gone back and broken the news to her gently. I wish she’d let me take care of her that way, stop her from seeing the blood and the pain…

“Thank you,” she sobs, throwing herself into my arms. “It was the only thing that was ever going to stop him.”

She cries so hard I worry for her ability to breathe. She drags in tearful gasps as I hold her tight, pick her up, and carry her away from the scene. I can smell the blood and the death, and I know some of it is clinging to me, and now to us.

I take her to the lake, which is not far from the cliff where her father’s body still lies, and I walk into it with her in my arms. We need to purify ourselves. The sins of the past must be washed away in these waters.

It takes a long time for her tears to slow, but I am patient. I know she has seen one of the worst things a person can see, and I know that it is now all tied up in me, the pack, shifting, and her own terrible experience in the wild.

“I bit that driver,” she says. “I bit him and I got some of him in me…”

“Shh,” I murmur, kissing her quiet. “There is no need to confess. Your sins do not exist.”

“You killed him. You got some of him in you. I saw the blood. You couldn’t have spat all of it out. You must have swallowed some…”

“Listen,” I say. “A little blood here and there, some flesh from time to time, that is not the same as hunting humans for sport and massacring them for our enjoyment. That’s the difference. Whatever you did, you did because you were defending yourself. It’s over. All of it. There’s no need to interrogate yourself or assign blame any more. His passing frees you to be whoever you want to be. I hope that you will be my wife.”

She sniffs and stares at me. It takes a couple of long moments for her to understand what I have just said properly.