Mine! - 48. Mine! Part Two Chapter Fourteen

Branches left stinging cuts on my skin, but I couldn’t slow down. I’d followed the bastard’s scent trail until I got close enough that I could hear his footsteps ahead of me, but I couldn’t catch up. He wasn’t going to get away from me.

I finally got a little luck when a stream created a deep ravine too wide for him to jump. The opposite side was muddy and steep, too steep to climb up easily. The sight of him spurred me on, and I snarled as I leapt into the water. The rounded rocks were slippery, and I stumbled, but I didn’t stop. He turned to face me, his hands up and claws out. I barreled out of the water and slammed my shoulder into his chest.

He fell backwards into the bank, and we rolled together, coming to a stop at the water’s edge. He was on top of me, his claws embedded in my shoulders, but he’d missed my neck. I growled, and shoved hard with my right leg, flipping us over. His claws ripped long tears as I reversed our position. What was it with these guys and my arms?

The pain spurred me on, and I used my greater height to lunge both of us forward a few feet so I could pin him against a large rock. I reared back and punched him once, and then a second time. He cried out, and tried to fend me off, but I was heavier and stronger.

He wasn’t much of a feral.

I shoved his arms out of the way and reached for his neck. I slid both hands around the vulnerable column and push down. My claws flexed and the tips buried in the flesh of his throat; it would be so easy to tear it out. But I couldn’t.

“You’re going to wish I killed you,” I hissed.

His eyes flared wide as he choked, he beat his hands against my arms, but he couldn’t get a grip with the blood trickling down my skin. His struggles weakened, and then he went limp, his eyes rolling back in his head.

I was panting hard, and my shoulders were fucking killing me, but I got to my feet. I dragged the werekin’s limp body over the rocks looking for an easier place to climb out of the trench. Once we were back on higher ground I secured his arms and legs, and then threw him over my shoulder. I grunted. “Heavy bastard.” He wasn’t all that big, but he was solid. If he had any idea of how to fight, or how to use his claws and fangs, I might’ve been in trouble.

The way my father’s familiar scent and the stranger stench combined together made my stomach roil. It was wrong, completely and wholly wrong. My skin crawled from having to touch him. Fortunately, we were closer to the cars them a compound. I made my way back to the vehicles. Hopefully the men would be coming back soon, with more prisoners or news that they cleansed the hunting camp.

Ritch had rolled the windows down in the car, and he was sitting in the driver’s seat. His head swiveled from side to side, and his mouth dropped open when he saw me. “Are you okay?” he cried out.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Open the back.”

He jumped out of the car and opened up the back hatch. I tilted, and let my captives body fall. He was still out cold. There was a metal ring embedded in either side of the storage area. I used a spare wrist cuff band to attach his wrists to the ring, and another one to secure his feet. The final precaution was a muzzle. His face didn’t jut out as far as a normal bonded werekin’s, but it still fit over securely so I could fasten the buckles in the back. Trussed up like he was, the fucker wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“Are you sure you’re okay?" Ritch opened up a passenger door and grabbed a towel. My shoulder wound had started to clot, the pressure of the body helping to slow the bleeding, but when I dropped him in the car two of the wounds had broken open on my left shoulder. He pushed the towel against the jagged cuts. “You aren’t even fully healed from the last attack.”

“I’m healed enough. Look, I need to go back to the hunter’s camp, since no one else has returned.”

“You should stay here,” Ritch argued.

“I can’t.” I let Ritch tie the towel around my shoulder, and then I threw a T-shirt overtop the makeshift bandage. It stretched, but it held tight which would help keep pressure on the cuts. “I’ll be back just as soon as I can. Be careful, Ritch.”

“You better,” he said fiercely.

Exhaustion dragged at me, but I shook it off. The night was fading fast, and I needed to find the others. I headed back toward the camp in a straight line, and I was almost there when I heard footsteps. I stopped and hid behind a tree.

Landon’s voice carried, so he was making little effort to be quiet. Someone groaned, and he told him to suck it up. That didn’t sound like they’d been captured, so I took the chance to reveal myself. A quick look around the tree was all I needed.

They were all there, and everyone was on their feet, though Caleb was leaning heavily on one of the other werekin. One human werekin was standing with them with his arms behind his back, and a gag in his mouth. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and he swayed and stumbled. No one helped him up.

“There you are,” Christian said when I stepped out.

“Where the hell did you go?” Landon demanded. “You left Caleb.”

“The werekin bonded with my dad’s soul escaped. I tracked him down.”