Devotion

by Grace R. Duncan

  He took off in the direction he had been going before he slept, but was forced to stop. His instinct wanted to pull him back the other way.

  He shook his head, confused. He looked east again. Mate was this way. He looked back the way he came, his confusion frustrating him. Mate wasn’t that way. He took off at a trot, but stopped after a very short distance and turned around again. He tilted his head, trying to figure out why his instinct wanted to pull him back.

  It didn’t make sense. He tried to ignore it again and took off once more, following the river east. It curved north, so he left the banks and went up the hill to keep going in the correct direction.

  He should have known better than to ignore instinct. Regardless of the direction it pulled him in, it hadn’t failed him yet. He was so focused on speed, had so thoroughly ignored instinct, he almost didn’t stop until it was too late. Just as he topped the hill and started down, he saw it.

  Finley stopped dead and stared, crouching in the brush. He didn’t think the bear had seen him. It appeared too preoccupied by the fish it was trying to get. He knew it could smell him because they had even stronger senses of smell than wolves did. But when he raised his nose and sniffed, he realized with relief he was downwind. He eased backward, working to stay completely silent as he crept away. He didn’t think it would attack, not unless he threatened it—they didn’t eat wolf, after all—but he wasn’t taking the chance.

  He topped the rise again and turned to start back down the hill, intending to go the other way. But his exhaustion and confusion did him in, and he turned again, realizing he wasn’t sure which way to go. He looked along the river, where his instinct pulled him, then to the moon, which meant he should go the other way.

  He again went the direction he’d been going initially, intending to go around the bear, but the rock he stepped on broke loose. He jumped, scrambling to back up, not realizing that side of the hill was so steep. He looked behind him, but the bear was still at the riverbank. To his right, the shelf dropped off, where the rocks broke. He stepped forward to go back the way he came and found another loose rock.

  It slipped out from under him, and he twisted around, scrambling for purchase. The first loose rock turned into many, and before he could stop himself, he and the rocks were sliding down the side of the hill. He fought to get to his feet, but the ground was too unstable, the rocks were moving too fast, and he tumbled along with them.

  Finley saw it too late, though he couldn’t have done anything anyway. He hit the tree with much too much force. It knocked the wind out of him, then caught his hind leg at exactly the wrong angle. He twisted again, yelping as pain flared up his leg, only to land against a rock a moment later.

  TANNER HAD no real idea how long he’d been going. The moon had passed its zenith a while ago, but in that form, even with his human intelligence, he couldn’t translate it to anything more solid than “a while.” Hours, true. And most of those had been at a full run, trying a little desperately to make up time. He was starting to get tired, but he knew he couldn’t rest. He had no idea how much rest Finley would take, and he didn’t want to risk letting Finley get a lot farther ahead. He didn’t want to let Finley get any farther ahead, if he could help it.

  He reminded himself his mate was still going, because that meant he was still alive and okay. He had to believe that; it was the only thing that kept him moving. That and the instinct he was beginning to suspect was partially from their bond. He hoped that was the case because it only confirmed Finley was still alive.

  He’d been running full speed except for short stretches when he had to go down the steeper paths on the side of the peaks. He was counting on the fact that he was, generally speaking, faster at running than Finley was. Finley was fast, there was no doubt about that. Finley had won more than one race with him, but if he absolutely had to, he could draw on reserves and go just a little bit faster. He did that now, digging deep for every bit of strength and power he possessed. He called on that tiny extra bit that made up the alpha in him and used it to put on a little more speed.

  Exhaustion pulled at him. He didn’t have the slightest clue how far he’d gone, except a vague “many miles.” All he knew was that he didn’t know for sure. He’d crossed a decently wide river a while back and suspected he’d passed into Idaho at some point, though he wasn’t positive. He wasn’t about to waste the time to shift and take out the phone to find out.

  Tanner knew, despite the alpha in him, despite the core strength he possessed, he couldn’t keep up the run for much longer, not like this. He’d hoped he’d be able to find Finley before he had to stop. He sent up a prayer to Mercury to go the right way and to Diana for the ability to keep moving for now.

  He came down another steep slope, coming out at the side of another river. He stopped long enough to sniff around the edge of the water, relieved when he found his mate’s scent again, even stronger this time. He took off once more, energized at the thought of getting close.

  FINLEY CAME to sometime later and struggled to sit up. Before he could move much, pain shot through his leg and neck. He whined and lay back down, panting through it. Whimpers came from low in his throat as he tried to deal with the pain.

  As soon as he could breathe again, he raised his nose and sniffed. He hadn’t gone far, and he didn’t need his sounds to alert anything nearby. But he couldn’t smell the bear he’d seen earlier, and nothing else smelled dangerous to him, at that moment.

  He flopped back down, trying not to panic. He shifted his leg just a little, grateful when it moved. With any luck, it wasn’t broken.

  Something poked at the back of his mind, telling him to shift, but he couldn’t hold on to the thought. He tried to figure it out, but the pain and exhaustion that had been eating at him for miles now wouldn’t let him grab onto it. He gave up and tried to think of what to do.

  He looked up, the panic he’d been trying to hold back rising more when he saw the moon had passed overhead and was even now sinking back toward the horizon. He needed to get going, needed to get to his mate. Mate needed him. But he couldn’t get up.

  He again tried to sit up, being a little more careful this time, but his leg still wouldn’t cooperate. He curled around and licked at it, relieved when he didn’t find any blood. Not an open wound, then, but it still hurt too much to move.

  He whimpered again, frustrated at being stuck when he needed to be going, running, getting to his mate. He lifted his face and let out a long, mournful howl, pouring his frustration, pain, and need for his mate into it.

  TANNER STOPPED dead and tilted his head. Could that be? He sent another prayer up to Diana that it was who he thought it was.

  Despite his hope, he didn’t like the sound of the howl. There was no mistaking the pain in it. The frustration and despair tore at his heart, but if it really was Finley, he could do something about that. The pain was something else altogether.

  He focused on the direction it came from. It sounded like it came from the south, but that would take him away from the east-flowing river. That didn’t seem right to him. He scowled, trying to decide which way to go. The howl came again, from the same direction. He could have sworn it was Finley’s voice, but the direction made no sense. And Finley’s scent continued along the river.

  He looked in the direction of the howl, then back to the river. Instinct—what he was now sure was their bond—was pulling him south, toward the howl. Did he listen? What if it wasn’t Finley and he ended up wasting time? The same instinct—their bond—had guided him correctly across the prairie earlier. He decided to trust in it again and turned south, starting up the incline. He picked his way carefully over too many loose rocks, keeping his nose going, looking for Finley’s scent.

  Just as he topped the rise he was on, it hit him: the scent he knew so well of pine trees, warmth, and sunshine that was his mate. He was so close! He took off again, still taking care with where he ran on the unfamiliar terrain, not willing to risk getting hurt and delaying any mo
re.

  He paused when the scent of bear hit him, focusing to find its location. He relaxed when he realized it was the other direction. Not willing to let anything more keep him from his mate, he continued up the next hill, only slowing as he went over the rise to avoid any missteps. Sure enough, as he did, the rocks slid away, and he caught himself before going over.

  Tanner had to stop to look for a safe way down the other side. One side fell off sharply and dropped what looked to be a few stories. In front of him, he could see loose rocks all the way down the side of the hill. He went forward carefully, choosing his footing slowly. It took him too long to pick his way past the loose parts, but, finally, he cleared them and followed along the valley.

  As he rounded a clump of trees, he saw something black lying at the base of one of them, against a rock. He crossed the last short distance so fast he wasn’t sure he touched the ground more than once or twice. He slid to a stop, his heart pounding in his throat. The black wolf’s eyes were closed, and Tanner couldn’t see the chest move. Panic threatened, but he shoved at it hard, reminding himself he still felt his mate. He sniffed, refusing to give in to the fear, and let out a huge breath of relief when all that greeted him was the familiar, infinitely wonderful scent of Finley.

  He leaned in and nosed at Finley’s face, licking him carefully along the side of his jaw. When he didn’t stir, Tanner realized he needed his voice to try to coax Finley awake. He closed his eyes, nudging his wolf—who, now that they’d found their mate, was much more willing to relinquish control—back. As soon as he had two feet and two hands instead of the four legs, he dropped to his knees, ignoring the rocks digging in, and reached out to run his hands over Finley’s body.

  “Baby, baby, it’s me, wake up,” he said, heedless of volume as he felt for obvious injury. “Finley,” he called, refusing to let himself panic when the eyes didn’t open. “Finley, baby, come on, wake up.”

  He kept moving his hands over Finley’s body, feeling bones and ribs, spine and legs. When he got to Finley’s hind leg and slid his fingers over the ankle, he got a yelp, and Finley jumped. Finally, his mate’s eyes opened.

  Tanner breathed another huge sigh of relief, tears rolling over his cheeks with it. “Hi baby! Gods, you gave me a scare.”

  Finley stared at him, tilting his head as if confused.

  “Yeah, it’s me, baby. It’s Tanner, your mate.”

  When Finley continued to look confused, his heart pounded harder and his stomach twisted in fear.

  Oh Diana, am I still his mate? Please tell me he recognizes me as his mate!

  Tanner swallowed hard, his heart now hammering up in his throat. “Fin, baby, shift for me. You’re injured. It’ll help you heal. And you can talk to me.”

  Finley blinked at him, head still tilted.

  Tanner wondered if Finley’s wolf had more control than he thought it did. “Fin?” Tanner reached out and ran a very shaky hand over Finley’s fur. “Fin, baby? Am….” His voice cracked and he had to clear it. “Am I still your mate?” His words came out trembling, fear obvious in it, but he didn’t give a single damn.

  Finley blinked at him once more, then his dark eyes cleared and he surged forward and up, licking at Tanner’s face excitedly, tail thumping against the rocks.

  Tanner nearly sobbed in relief and dove in, wrapping his arms—carefully—around Finley, burying his face in the fur at the scruff of Finley’s neck. “Oh gods, I was so scared,” he said, though it was muffled. “So scared I wouldn’t find you. Terrified you were dead.” The words tumbled, one after another, as the fear and panic finally subsided.

  He couldn’t care if Finley knew he’d been scared, and he realized he wanted, needed his mate to know. If things worked out the way he hoped, Finley would know all of his emotions soon. He wouldn’t hide anything from Finley ever again—not that he could very easily, but he wouldn’t want to. They’d face all of it, together, including—especially—Tanner’s fears.

  Finley whined a little, and Tanner pulled back, looking him over. “Come on, baby, shift. There’s something wrong with your leg and it’ll help you heal.”

  Finley shook his head.

  “You can’t shift?”

  He shook his head again.

  Tanner pursed his lips. “Did you fall? Does anything feel broken?”

  Finley tilted his head, and Tanner realized he’d asked two questions, likely with two different answers. He laughed at himself. “Sorry. First, did you fall?” Knowing how he got the injury might help.

  Finley nodded.

  “Okay. Does anything feel broken?”

  Another head shake. No.

  “Well, not broken is good. But shit, not able to shift isn’t good.” He paused, thinking. “Are you tired? Is it exhaustion?”

  Finley nodded.

  Tanner frowned. That would certainly contribute. “Okay, uh….” He tried to think of what could help. “Hmm. Have you eaten recently?”

  He nodded.

  “Before you got hurt?”

  Another nod.

  “What—” He stopped himself, rolling his eyes. Finley couldn’t answer a “what” kind of question. Not until they were fully mated and claimed and had the telepathic link. Finley chuffed at him, making him smile. He rephrased the question. “Was what you ate small? Like a rabbit or something?”

  Finley nodded again.

  “Okay. I think you need food and rest. I’m going to find you some rabbit or something, okay? I’ll be right back.” When Finley barked in acknowledgment, Tanner shifted back quickly, then nuzzled Finley and licked him before sniffing at the air. He gave a soft bark, then took off in the direction of the hare scent he found.

  It didn’t take long at all to find one. He was back in almost no time and dropped it in front of his mate. He nudged it forward, waiting until Finley started eating, then went to hunt down another. When he had two more piled in front of Finley, he sat back, watching as Finley ate.

  He was obviously hungry. He nearly devoured the first two. He slowed on the third, then finally nudged part of the last one toward Tanner. He took it to mean Finley was finished and let himself eat too. He’d need plenty of fuel to help Finley. He’d hunt for himself later, but for now he was more focused on Finley.

  Once they were both done, he helped clean Finley’s muzzle, then shifted back. “Where does it hurt, baby?”

  Finley curled over and licked at his leg.

  Tanner ran his fingers lightly along it, nearly jumping when Finley whined. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, brushing at the fur on Finley’s head to soothe. “I need to keep going, though. I need to be sure it’s not broken, okay? To see how serious it is.”

  Finley whined again but nodded, resting his muzzle on his paws and closing his eyes.

  Tanner kissed the top of his head, then went back to his inspection. He ran his fingers down the leg once more, then put a little more pressure behind his touch. Finley whined again and looked up at him, but that was all.

  Relief flooded Tanner when he didn’t feel any breaks in the bones. They could and would heal, but he didn’t want Finley going through anything worse than he had to. And it could heal wrong enough that even shifting wouldn’t fix it, forcing the pack doctor to have to rebreak it when they got back. Thankfully, that didn’t appear to be a problem. When he said as much, Finley sighed.

  “Looks like you just need rest, baby. Go ahead, close your eyes.” He waited until Finley did so. “I’ll shift and curl up with you. I’ll be right here.” He kissed the top of Fin’s head, then shifted once more and curled up behind his mate, tight against Finley’s back. He didn’t close his eyes until Finley’s breathing evened out. Then he passed out, finally able to relax for the first time since before Finley left Pennsylvania.

  Chapter Twelve

  SOMETHING SHARP dug into Finley’s ribs, dragging him toward consciousness. He went to reach under him to find out what it was when he realized he was in wolf form. It took him a moment for his fuzzy brain to catch
up.

  That’s when the warmth and weight at his back and the sun heating his side registered as well. On the heels of that, the pain in his leg reminded him of its existence. He blinked open his eyes and met the gray world with his mind still somewhat foggy. He yawned and laid his head down, trying to work past the pain to the rest.

  Memory returned then, in full force, of the last… he didn’t know how long. How long had he been out there? He remembered the sound Tanner had made through the phone, remembered suddenly being in wolf form and bolting through the house and outside. He remembered running, a lot. He remembered the absolute need his wolf pushed at him to get to their mate. Mate in pain.

  Except, Tanner wasn’t in pain. Finley knew that, now that the human side of him was once more in control of his brain. Not the kind of pain his wolf thought it was, anyway.

  He had hurt his mate, though. Jamie may have actually said the words, but Finley had seen what Jamie was going to say before he’d said it and hadn’t stopped it. There’d been no mistaking the sound Tanner had made after, that keening, as anything other than pain.

  But despite that pain, Tanner was there, had come to him. Come to find him, was with him now, had taken care of him.

  He wondered if that was what had been prodding his instinct to pull him back, get him to turn around. The one that had been so strong just before he’d seen the bear and fell down the side of the hill. Could it be their bond? If it was, it meant their bond was a lot stronger than he’d realized. Or maybe it was just the circumstances? Maybe the fear and worry had strengthened it.

  He’d figure that part out later. For now, he had bigger things to think about. Tanner had come for him. He didn’t know if the idea that he might have actually found a boyfriend prompted it, or if it was something else that brought Tanner all the way across the country.

  That thought made him blink. How had Tanner gotten across the country? Had Finley been running that long? Or had Tanner flown?