A Mate's Forgiving Touch

by Merryn Dexter

  He curled his head over her body, tucking her against the solid strength of his body. Fear not, little mate. We will teach you, trust us, and we will show you the world as it should be.

  It would be so easy to stay like this. Life as a wolf was straightforward. They could run free together, explore the woods, establish the land as their own without fear or threat.

  Threat…. Hunters. Her human pushed frantically, and she snapped her mental jaws at her. She would shift when she was ready, and not before. They’re coming!

  Her mate eased away, snarling when she sought to follow him. He paced several feet, lowered his head, and she watched in fascination as he began to revert to his human form. Fur receded, limbs flowed and reshaped faster than she believed possible. Connor crouched, a fine sheen of sweat glistening over his naked skin. He raised his head, golden eyes fading to dark gray. “I can sense your fear, Bailey. Shift for me, lover.”

  The she-wolf skittered back from his outstretched hand; she would not be swayed by the sweet seduction in his tone. They were stronger in this form, safer. Moving faster than she expected in his human body, Connor pounced, grabbed her by the muzzle, and lifted her face to meet his hard stare. She snarled, tried to pull free from his hold, but he would not yield.

  “Stop it,” he growled, giving her head a small shake. Gold shone bright in his eyes, and the force of his dominance crashed through her. “Shift. Now.”

  Bailey surged forward, scrabbling for control as her wolf submitted to Connor’s command. Agony lanced through her body. She bowed back, screaming in fear and frustration as the shift broke and reshaped her bones. Pressing her cheek to the grass beneath her, she gasped for breath.

  Tender fingers brushed her hair, but she didn’t lift her head. Shame flooded through her. She was a failure, damaged beyond repair. Regardless of her apology to her wolf, blind panic had set in the moment she gave up control. Had only increased when the wolf refused her entreaties.

  A sob shuddered through her frame, and she bit her lip until she tasted blood. Now was not the time for weakness. Her father and the others would be in their trucks by now, tracking down the reported sightings. The combination of her fractured nature and the abhorrent truth about her father and his friends would shatter the dreams of a future with this man she loved.

  Digging deep she found the words. “My father is a hunter. A bulk of the profits from Clarke Construction are tithed to a group run by Anthony Thomson, Dale’s father.”

  Tears flowed down her cheeks, soaking the grass beneath her. The reassuring hand Connor had placed on her head stilled. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the disgust in his eyes.

  “Why are you telling me this now?” Such hardness in his tone. Another piece of her heart shattered.

  A sob hitched her chest, infuriating her. Whatever else she was, Bailey was no coward. She’d had a chance at happiness, and blown it. Tough shit. Life would go on. Shoving the pain and sorrow down into a tight ball, she pushed to all fours then sat back on her knees.

  “I see what you are trying to do, Bailey, and it won’t fucking work.” Anger shining in his eyes, he closed the space between them. His hand circled her throat, collaring her, holding her head still as his gaze drilled into her. “You’re mine, Bailey. I don’t give a shit about your father or his friends. I don’t care what you’ve had to do to survive, only that you’ve made it this far. You. Are. Mine.”

  Crushing her mouth beneath his, he forced his tongue between her lips. The possession in his kiss branded her soul, his furious words rattled around her skull. Their tongues stroked together. His grip on her throat flexed, relaxed, flexed again. I have you, it said. I have you and I’m never letting you go. She moaned into his mouth, relief and desire flooding through her.

  He released her mouth, sliding his hand from her throat down the center of her body. His tongue followed the path he traced, sending shivers of pleasure to her core. Grasping her hips, Connor lifted her, spilling her gently onto her back. She hooked her feet around his waist, welcoming the solid bulk of his body as he came down over her.

  “I know I said I would wait until you are ready, lover,” he ground out. Tension played in his jaw, the muscles in his cheek vibrating where he grit his teeth so hard. “Don’t deny me, please. Don’t deny us.”

  Reaching between their bodies, she circled the velvet-clad steel of his cock. “Come into me, Connor,” she whispered, lifting her hips to align them.

  He seated himself to the hilt on the first stroke, sending stars bursting behind her eyes. The way they fit together was perfection. Two halves of a whole. Whatever problems they faced, they would do so as a single unit. Mates.

  She rolled her head, offering her throat, inviting his bite. Hot breath caressed her skin, gusted against her ear as he thrust harder, faster, sending them both spiraling toward completion. The muscles in her core clenched around him, holding him deep within her as the heat of his seed pumped into her. A single, blinding flash of pain struck as he sank his teeth into her neck, exploding into ecstasy when he drew on her flesh. He was everywhere. In her body, in her heart, in her mind. They were connected in a way she had never dreamed possible. The strength of his love, the belief he had in her rolled through like a shock wave, detonating another orgasm. She clawed his back, pulling him closer as his cock swelled within her and he began to thrust.

  “Mine,” he snarled, licking and sucking his mark on her throat.

  “Yours, Connor,” she cried, their bodies cresting in harmony.

  Chapter Ten

  Branches whipped against his cheek, but he ignored them, driving his body faster through the undergrowth. Wanting only to bask in the sweating glory of their mating, Connor had tried to kiss Bailey into silence when she started talking about her father and his friends again. It took a few moments for his blissed-out brain to grasp the import of her words. A hunt was taking place, and they were interested in only one prey—wolves.

  By choice, he would have shifted again, but she was wary of losing control. He wanted to reassure her, but there wasn’t time. They needed to get to safety, and he prayed they were fast enough, that two legs would carry them back to the Clarke house. The full moon shone ripe overhead, tugging at his wolf, but he ignored her sweet, siren call. Following the scent trails he had laid over the land, he guided them toward home. A sharp tug on his hand stopped him. He turned to his mate, words of encouragement dying on his lips when he saw the pain etched on her face.

  “Can’t fight it,” she gasped. “The moon calls to me. I’m scared, Connor.” She bent at the waist and he could see the bones of her spine ripple beneath her skin.

  Damn it, he should have realized she would be susceptible to the full moon, given her struggles to control her wolf. He dropped to his knees so he could look up into her eyes.

  “Give in to it, Bailey. Just let it come, lover. I’ll hold you to me. The mate bond will help,” he crooned, brushing away the sweaty strands of hair plastering her forehead.

  Her legs gave out. She collapsed to the ground, resting her head against his knees. “Hurts.”

  It had taken years of practice for him to handle several shifts in a night, although he found it easier to slip his skin when the moon was at her peak. He switched to their mental connection. A delicate thread, it would strengthen in time, but time was a luxury they could not afford right now. I have you, lover. Reach for me, feel the bond between us. Our souls are one, Bailey. I’ll always find you.

  She’s strong. Her distress was palpable, even talking mind to mind. What a horrible catch-22. The more she resisted the wolf, the harder her animal half would fight for control. A fox barked, its shrill warning echoing through the forest. They were out of time.

  You have to trust me, my love. The hunters are coming. The wolf will protect you.

  Her breath hitched a couple of times, and then she calmed enough to move back so they were no longer touching. Rising to all fours, Connor called his own
shift, describing everything to her as it happened. I feel him, the heightened senses he gives me. I smell the fox now; his den is close. The wind whispering through the trees. The first ripple of fur along my spine, the shiver of anticipation. The pain, brutal, exquisite. A miracle that will bring me strength and power. We have our mate. We have everything we need right here. Join us.

  A branch snapped to the east. The odor of sweat and cigarettes drifted to him on the wind, making his nose itch. Reining in his impatience, he sent a mental push, driving her shift closer to completion. She whimpered. Her form waivered, neither one thing or the other for what seemed like eternity, and his beautiful jet wolf sprawled on the grass, lungs working like bellows. He licked her muzzle, encouraging her to rise. He knew she was exhausted, could feel it through their bond together and longed to be able to give her the time she needed to recover. Nudging his head under hers, he used his bulk to support her as she rose on shaky paws. A shiver ran through her. He braced her weight for a few more seconds, moving away the instant she gained her balance.

  Muzzle up, he tested the air. Human scents closed in around them, and he cursed. He couldn’t regret their mating, the connection between them already more than he had ever dreamed possible. They’re timing sure did suck, though.

  Fuck the Fates and their endless appetite for drama. He pressed low, slinking through the undergrowth, his belly brushing the ground. There would be a path through the hunters, even if he had to rip one through them himself. His wolf howled in his head. Blood-thirsty bastard, Connor grinned to himself. If he didn’t have his mate to worry about, he’d turn this hunt on its ass.

  Once she’d learned to blend harmoniously with her own wolf, she would be a formidable predator. He couldn’t wait. Inching forward, he caught the scent of oil and metal. If he could make it to the road, he might get lucky enough to find one of their vehicles with the keys still in it. He considered doubling back toward his bike, but doubted Bailey had another shift in her before the sun rose. Angling northeast, he told her his plan.

  Okay. Her voice was faint in his head, but at least he could sense her. Opening their bond wider, he tried to convey everything he felt for her, his pride in how well she was doing, his hopes for their future. Images of little black pups tumbling around their feet. She pressed against his flank, sending an answering flood of emotions. They would get through this. Nothing else was acceptable.

  Determination renewed, he struck a path for the road, arrowing through a gap in the human scents. The canopy overhead thinned, and he knew they were close. He paused on the edge of the dirt road. Three vehicles were parked in a line, one set of wheels resting on the grassy verge lining the road. Sticking close to the trees, he edged forward, making sure Bailey stayed deeper in the shadows. He reached the first vehicle, placed his paws on the side window, and gazed through. No luck. Scooting forward, he repeated his routine on the front two vehicles, snarling in frustration when he came up empty. He turned away from the front vehicle; the burn of dirty oil confused his nose. The engine had a leak somewhere and it irritated him.

  He took a couple of steps away, caught a familiar stink of sweat and cheap aftershave, and paused. Dale. The oil leak had disguised it at first, but the truck belonged to Dale. The ex-foreman had a habit of tucking the keys to his work truck above the sun visor. Connor hoped it was the same for his personal vehicle. Rising up on his hind legs, he peered through the glass at the cream vinyl rectangle, straining for any telltale glint of metal.

  Bailey nudged against his flank. He snapped at her, intending to send her under the safety of the trees. She shied away, but in the opposite direction, ending up in the middle of the dirt road. Something thrashed through the undergrowth on the edge He turned toward it with a snarl. The smells from the vehicles and his determination to find a way to escape had distracted him sufficiently to miss the approaching threat.

  Dale staggered onto the road, muttering and cursing to himself. “Not too goddamn drunk. I can still hit a tin can where that old bastard couldn’t hit a barn door.”

  Connor dropped soundlessly to the ground, edging toward the rear of the truck. Bailey froze in the center of the road, a dark smudge thanks to some overhead cloud. Heart in his throat, he prayed the man wouldn’t think to look around. Slinking backward, he slipped between the fenders of the front two vehicles, using the truck’s bodywork to shield himself from Dale’s view. The man thumped the butt of his rifle on the side of his truck, the sharp clang startling a yip of fear from Bailey. “What the fuck?”

  Connor snarled, making a dash between the two trucks, drawing Dale’s attention away from his mate. The weapon boomed behind him, and he dodged right, the bullet thudding into a tree trunk well above his head.

  Shouts and the crash of bodies came loud from the woods behind him. Trapped between the oncoming men and the vehicles, he put his head down and ran, sending a command to Bailey to go in the opposite direction. He could feel her wolf, a roil of wild emotions washing through their bond—fear, fury, panic.

  The rifle cracked again, sending him spinning around when he realized the shot had been fired away from him. Toward his mate.

  Time slowed, stretching the horrific tableau before him into slow motion. Men burst from the tree line, their scents carried on the wind, blending with the acrid powder burn from the rifle and the bright sting of fresh blood. Bailey lay in the road, bathed in a pool of moonlight. Shouts echoed from the men, another gun fired as Connor dug his claws in the dirt, sprinting toward his fallen mate. A scream echoed from his right, Dale fell to his knees, toppled on his back, motionless. The scent of his mate’s blood sent his wolf crazy, and Connor gave in to the beast inside him. He stood over her body, snarling a challenge at the two men at the side of the road. Donald Clarke shook, his gun still aimed at the space where Dale had been standing.

  The second man, an older, fatter version of Dale, stared at Donald in disbelief. “What did you do? What the fuck did you do?” he screamed.

  “He killed my daughter, Anthony. He murdered her.” Donald’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “An animal. He shot a fucking animal. A monster! I should have finished her the day I killed the adult pair. Fucking abominations!” Spittle formed at the corners of his lips. He raised his rifle, taking aim at Connor.

  He surged forward, determined to take the evil hunter with him. The gun boomed, a weight struck him in the side, knocking him off-balance. Not the bullet he’d expected, but Donald Clarke. The man who hated him, had thrown himself in the firing line, saving his life.

  He twisted, leaped again, claws slashing through meat until they hit bone, the lightning fast reflexes of the wolf too fast for Anthony. Pinning the screaming hunter to the ground, he bit down, ripping a hole in the soft flesh of the man’s throat. The scream cut off, blood filling the hunter’s mouth as he gurgled once and then fell still.

  Black fury gripped him. It wasn’t enough; he wanted more. Wanted to rend and shred the bastard who’d been responsible for the death of his mate, and her parents.

  “Bailey,” Donald wheezed behind him.

  A soft whine cleared the bloodlust from Connor, and he seized control from the wolf. A faint shimmer of awareness rippled down the mating bond. She’s still alive.

  Gathering his shattered emotions, he shoved them far into a corner of his mind and shifted to his human form. Ignoring the screaming pain in his muscles he ran toward his mate, fell to his knees, and placed a shaking hand on her side. The fur beneath his fingers was sticky, but he could feel her body hitch as she drew a breath.

  “I’ve got you, little wolf. I’ve got you, darling. Don’t you dare leave me now.” Tears streaming down his face, he searched beneath her thick fur for the source of the blood. He brushed a ragged hole near her shoulder, and she raised her muzzle an inch from the ground and snarled.

  “Bailey,” her father croaked, dragging himself closer.

  “She’s still alive. I need to get her help.” Connor g
lanced at the fallen man. “Need to get you both help.” He couldn’t care less if Donald Clarke lived or died, but his mate might, so he would do what he could to help him.

  Donald coughed, a bubble of blood forming at his lips. “Too late for me, son. Too late for so many things.” He lifted his hand, scratching at his hip. “My keys are in my pocket. Take them, take my girl, and find help.”

  Connor lifted the man’s hand out of the way and retrieved his keys. “I’ll get her in and return for you.”

  Running for the vehicles, he pressed the fob, yanking the back door of the rear one open when its lights flashed in response to the unlock signal. A thick jacket was folded neatly on the seat, and he dragged it on. With the top half of his body covered, he shouldn’t draw attention from any passing traffic. He dashed to Bailey’s side and lifted the terrified wolf into his arms, ignoring the pain when she caught his side with her claws.

  “Shhh, I’ve got you,” he crooned, placing her in the rear of the vehicle.

  She tried to lift her head and he feared she would struggle, try to escape. Whining she settled on the leather seats, and he closed the door as quietly as he could. Blank eyes stared up at him when he bent over Donald. More shouts came from within the woods. The occupants of the middle car, no doubt. Connor tugged the rifle from the dead man’s grip, shot out a tire on each of the front two vehicles, and ran for the truck. He had to get his mate to safety. If he couldn’t get her to shift back and trigger the healing process, she wouldn’t survive the wound to her shoulder.

  Slamming the truck into drive, he spun the vehicle around and floored the gas. There was only one place he could take her. Ignoring the pounding fear in his heart, he reached for the psychic connection to his siblings. Caitlyn! Caleb! I need you!