Page 10 of Mitchell’s Untamed Mate (More Than Human #2)

H yder started when Lucien dropped to the ground beside him. He swore he would kill the cat-shifter if the man didn’t quit sneaking up on them. He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when Lucien shot him a warning glare and shook his head.

“Government.”

That single, hushed word caused his upper lip to curl. He glanced around for Carter and Bishop. There was no sign of them. He looked back at Lucien and raised an eyebrow.

“I already warned Bishop. Carter makes too much noise,” Lucien said. “The Black-clothes have the vehicles… and a human.”

“Shit!” This time Hyder did mutter the curse on the tip of his tongue. “How many did they find?”

Lucien shrugged. “As far as I could tell, just the one. It was with Tracy Bearclaw. The last I saw, she was trying to tear the Black-clothes apart. I told Bishop to meet us at the river. I saw trackers heading out earlier. It won’t take them long to pick up our scent.”

Hyder frowned. “What about Carter?”

Lucien shot him a sharp tooth grin. “I thought we could use the distraction. The warthog stinks. He’ll keep the trackers busy when they try to bring him in.”

If he had to sacrifice any of them to the government agents, he would have picked Carter as well. The warthog wasn’t the smartest of the lot of them, even if he was the strongest. The most they could do is lock the shifter up for a few weeks or until a bail was set.

Fortunately for the shifter, there wouldn’t be any of his prints or hair in the wolverine’s truck. He had swept it as clean as possible before he exited. Even so, there would be no trace of his identity even if they found a hair he had missed. His years of working for the military had given him a chance to purge any records of his existence.

“Let’s go,” he instructed.

Lucien nodded and took off on light feet through the woods. Hyder followed. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees. He wasn’t sure how the Black-clothes had known to come to this specific area. It was bad luck that they had come along when they did.

Or maybe not.

Isabella said she wanted a human. A sudden thought occurred to him. Why tramp through the woods when he could pick up the male and female human the Bearclaws were so gracious to collect for him? There would be security, but he could deal with that.

A mosquito buzzed near his neck and he slapped it with a grimace of distaste. The more he thought about taking the humans that had already been found, the more he liked the idea. It would require calling in a few favors.

No sense in making life difficult if I don’t have to, he thought with growing satisfaction.

Bearclaw Estate

Tracy winced with pain when Mitchell squeezed her fingers. She should have thought about the fact that her aunt would be flying to the estate and that Mitchell obviously would never have been in a helicopter before. He had stopped dead in his tracks, almost pulling her off-balance when they started to approach the presidential aircraft. The Shifter One was a Nightsky VH-3D Talon Master. The sleek design had a luxurious interior.

After his initial balking at getting near the aircraft, his curiosity had overcome his fear. It helped that her aunt had kept walking as if she hadn’t noticed his hesitation. It was either that or the daring look Michaela had given him after she entered and turned.

He had kept a death grip on her hand, but continued forward. Peering out of the window, she knew they would be able to see her ancestral home in a matter of seconds. Pride rose within her when the helicopter cleared the lush forest of trees near the east side of the house and the first view of the estate came into view. Mitchell’s stunned hiss of air told her he saw it at the same time as she did.

“You live… there?” he asked in a hushed, hesitant voice.

“Yes.”

He didn’t say anything, but she sensed the reality troubled him. Looking down at her home, she tried to imagine it through his eyes. A knot formed in her stomach as she thought about how opulent it must seem in comparison to anything he had ever seen before.

The only thing she knew about how he and the other humans lived was from the few details Ty had shared when he had gone in search of Ella. Ella spoke very little about her people. Tracy wasn’t sure exactly what had transpired, only that Ella had been banned after saving Ty’s life.

The helicopter circled over the house, making a wide arc before landing on the helipad. Tracy almost groaned with relief when Mitchell released her hand. She covertly rubbed her aching fingers. A soft snort of laughter from Michaela pulled her attention away from Mitchell. She stuck her tongue out at her aunt’s amused expression.

An agent opened the door to the helicopter and the steps lowered. At the bottom, two attentive agents waited. She unfastened her own restraints and then Mitchell’s. Mitchell turned his head and watched as her aunt descended the steps.

“It will be alright,” she assured him in a quiet voice.

“Ella.... She lives here?” he asked.

Tracy nodded, trying to ignore the tingle of jealousy tugging at her. Of course Ella would be his first thought. She cupped his hand and stood.

They descended the steps after her aunt. They had only walked a few feet when a low cry filled the air. Tracy watched as Ella pulled away from her brother and raced across the manicured lawn toward them. Mitchell released Tracy's hand and opened his arms.

The tingle of jealousy flew into a bonfire when Mitchell’s arms wrapped around Ella’s waist and he lifted her off the ground. Her bear was clawing with displeasure. Tracy started when she felt an arm slide around her waist.

“He probably loves her like a sister,” Michaela murmured.

“I know. It’s just… this is new to us,” she muttered, referring to herself and her bear.

“Thank goodness I’ve never had to deal with that,” Michaela chuckled before releasing her and stepping forward. “Art. Lena. How are my favorite brother and sister-in-law doing?”

Art lifted an eyebrow and snorted. “The same as we were doing the other night when you visited. I see you found my daughter… and another human. You must be Mitchell. Ella has told us surprisingly little about you.”

The tension in Tracy’s body lessened when her father stepped forward to greet Mitchell with a broad smile of welcome. Mitchell released Ella and reached for her father’s outstretched hand. They stood gripping each other’s hand for a fraction longer than normal as they assessed each other. It wasn’t until her mother chided her father and pushed him aside so she could hug Mitchell that they parted.

“Welcome to the Bearclaw Estate. Now, let’s go inside where it is more comfortable. Martha is preparing afternoon tea,” Lena said.

“Mitchell and I would like to get cleaned up first, if you don’t mind,” Tracy interjected.

Her mother’s gaze swept over her before she looked at Mitchell. Tracy’s lips twitched when her mother turned a disapproving glare on her aunt. Michaela lifted her hands in response.

“Don’t blame me, Lena. As soon as I knew where they were being held, I went there. Forgive me for not stopping at Shafts Department Store so they could pick up some decent clothing,” Michaela defended.

Lena pursed her lips. “Yes, well, I’m sure Ty has something that will fit until we can have some items delivered.”

Tracy breathed a sigh of relief when her brother stepped forward and captured Ella’s hand. He gave Tracy a wink. Of course he hadn't missed her reaction.

“Mom had the staff ready the room next to yours. Lucky for Mitchell, I went shopping yesterday and picked up some new clothes. Looks like he’ll get to test them out,” he said.

“Thanks, Ty.”

“No problem. It’s good to know that you survived. I was about to send a search party out for you,” he teased.

She elbowed her brother in the side, snickering when he gave an exaggerated grunt. Ella giggled at their playfulness. They walked behind her parents and Michaela who were talking about more serious issues.

“How is… everyone?” Ella asked, peering up at Mitchell.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied.

Ella bit her lip. “How’s Jayden?”

Tracy didn’t miss the slight hesitation before Mitchell replied. From the slight change in Ella’s expression, neither did she.

“The same old Jayden,” he finally replied.

“Oh.”

Mitchell tried not to show the awe he was experiencing as they crossed the wide, perfectly manicured lawn. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. At least, not manmade.

Shifter… shifter-made.

The gulf of experience between himself and Tracy seemed to be growing exponentially. How could he ever compete with anything like this? What did he have to offer her? Cold nights, hard ground, and little food to stave off her hunger?

He pushed the dismal thoughts from his mind. Mitchell carefully scrutinized the massive building in front of them. The dark, reddish-brown bricks rose into the air. A series of curved arches were held up by carved pillars. They reminded him of the ones in the scroll that Cyrus had shown him when he was a boy. While most of the bricks ran up to the slate roof, there was a section of the home that had a glass roof that reminded him of the pyramid image from the design illustrated near the bottom of the ancient scroll. Windows lined the bottom, allowing for ample sunlight to enter through the stained glass.

Tall spires rose on each end of the building. Tiny windows, cut into the roofs, made him wonder who could live in the hidden recesses of the manor. His eyes widened when he noticed the carved stone shapes with their gaping mouths sitting atop the building or carved into it, the slow erosion of time and water making them darker.

Elegant balconies jetted outward from large doors on the upper floors. The side panels were etched into colorful patterns. His mind boggled at the amount of skill it must have taken to build such a structure. Even the simple huts his village built took the combined strength of his people and days to construct. This home must have taken thousands of workers and dozens of years!

He climbed the steps, noting the smooth stone that gave way to brightly colored tiles. A man dressed in a dark blue suit opened the door before they reached it. Lena, Art, and Michaela entered as if it were a natural thing for people to wait upon them. He caught the eye of the shifter holding the door as he passed. A glimmer of curiosity flashed through the man’s eyes before he masked his emotions.

“Why do people open the doors for you? Can’t you do that yourself?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Tracy grinned. “Yes, we can, and we normally do when auntie isn’t here. She gets so distracted, it’s probably a good thing someone does or she might run right into them.”

He didn’t know how to respond because he wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. Glancing around, he noted the rich wood panel, glossy marble floors, and luxurious furniture that filled each room they passed through. They entered a second room down the hallway. Looking up, he realized it was the room with the glass ceiling. He turned in a circle, admiring the variations in colors between the different panes of glass.

“I felt the same way when I first came in here. This room is one of my favorites. I love how the light plays through the glass. It makes the room change depending on the time of day. It can be overwhelming until you get used to it,” Ella said.

“Tracy, why don’t you and Mitchell get cleaned up. I’ve asked Martha to hold off for another half hour on refreshments. Is that good for you?” Lena asked.

“Yeah, that should be enough time,” Tracy replied.

His focus landed on Ella. She had taken a seat near the window. Ty was standing beside her, talking to Michaela. Mitchell didn’t miss the way Ty’s hand rested protectively on Ella’s shoulder. He blinked down at Tracy when she cupped his hand and gave a gentle tug.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yes. It will be nice to get cleaned up.”

He hoped the strain in his voice didn’t come through. Her return smile gave him hope that he had been successful. He followed her down another hallway. They stopped in front of a wood panel door. She reached up and pulled on a chain. A low humming sound echoed behind the door. A second later, the door slid open to reveal a metal door.

Tracy pulled the iron door open and stepped inside. He followed, realizing it was the same type of magic box, only smaller, that he had traveled in earlier this morning. Tracy closed the metal door before pressing the number four on a panel. The wooden door slid closed. He reached out and braced his hand against the wood paneled interior when the box began to move.

His lips twitched when a sudden thought hit him. When possible, those in his clan that preferred to build their homes in the trees often designed a lift system. It wasn’t as elaborate, but the concept was the same. The idea that maybe humans weren’t as ‘out-of-date’ as shifters made him feel a little better.

The ping of the elevator brought him out of his musings. Tracy pulled the metal door back and the wood door opened to reveal a corridor lined with paintings. He followed Tracy, studying the paintings as they walked down the carpeted corridor.

There were paintings depicting shifters of varying ages in different time periods. Small gold labels under each frame identified the person and the year the painting was done. Others were of disparate landscapes or events in history. He would love to spend more time studying them.

He stopped in front of a painting and stared at the people in it. His hand slid up to the leather cord he wore around his neck. The painting was obviously very, very old. There was a man—a human—with the same color skin as his, holding a young child in his arms. Behind the man, more humans lay scattered in death among the ruins.

The painting was so detailed and vivid he swore he could smell the smoke from the fires. The man’s grief was palpable. The artist had captured the man’s sorrow in every line of his body.

“This was painted shortly after the Battle of Little River. It was the last major battle of the Great War between the shifters and humans. The artist, Herman Otter, was commissioned to record the events. It is said that this scene moved him to the point that he became an activist to end the war. He painted this ten years after the last human died in captivity,” Tracy explained in a low voice. “A part of me hates it because of what it represents, while another part of me can’t help but appreciate the skills of the artist. I bought the painting from a descendant of Otter’s five years ago while I was in Europe.”

Mitchell reached out but didn’t touch the painting. His eyes were glued to the necklace hanging from the man’s neck. His fingers tightened on the leather and bead necklace he was wearing.

“I’ll show you to your room,” she said.

He followed her to the end of the hallway. She opened the second door from the end and stepped inside. He followed, curiously glancing around as he entered. It was larger than any of the homes he had ever lived in. A bed half the size of his hut stood against the far wall with two matching cherry oak pieces of furniture on either side. Another large piece of furniture with a dozen drawers and a mirror was against the wall to his left. The large doors with the colorful glass panels he had noticed as they entered faced where the flying machine had landed.

He walked over to the doors and stared out. The flying machine looked small from this high up. He twisted around when Tracy cleared her throat.

“I’ll be next door if you need anything. Ty left you some clothes and you’ll find toiletries in the bathroom.”

He nodded and watched as she walked over to a different door than the one they entered. She opened it, hesitating for a second before she gave him a crooked smile. Her smile wavered when he didn’t say anything.

“Okay, I’ll be back in about twenty minutes,” she said.

“I’ll be ready.”

She gave him another smile before she closed the door. He stood where he was for another minute, absorbing everything that had happened in the last few hours. His glance encompassed the entirety of the room again, noting the ornate wallpaper, the old paintings, the rich furniture, the lush tapestry and linens before finally noticing the neatly folded pile of clothing on the bed.

He walked over and fingered the material. It was soft, not coarse like the material of his clothes. He lifted each piece and inspected it before gathering them all into his arms.

A door stood open and through it he could see shiny marble flooring and mirrors. He walked into the bathroom, once again noting the opulence. There was a basin for water surrounded by an off-white marble threaded with veins of silver that matched the floor. A porcelain toilet sat behind a half wall. There was a glass-enclosed area with a large metallic piece hanging above it. It reminded him of the bucket with holes that they poured water into for showering.

He placed the clothing next to the basin, touching the shiny silver curved spout. He jumped when water gushed out. Touching the spout again, the water stopped. He turned it on and off several times before exploring the rest of the bathroom.

This was much nicer than the one in his cell. He relieved himself before exploring the shower. A turn of a lever allowed water from the overhead metal to flow down. He ran his fingers through the water, enjoying the warmth.

Stripping out of his clothing, he stepped under the warm spray. He discovered that if he turned several knobs, water sprayed from a long thin pipe as well. Ten minutes later, he was standing under the water, enjoying the pulsating spray massaging his back and shoulders.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The faint scent of the shampoo and soap lingered around him as the last of the suds ran down his body. The rain was never this warm.

“Mitchell, are you— Oh, sorry!”

He opened his eyes when he heard Tracy’s voice. Their eyes connected through the fogged glass of the shower. The first thought racing through his mind was that her eyes were beautiful. They were dark, resembling the rich wood of the paneling mixed with tiny flecks of gold. She had a small, button nose and full lips. Her face was more oval than heart-shaped like Ella’s. Tiny, shifter-specific patterns along her throat were visible with her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

She was wearing a violet blouse and white linen skirt. The vee where she hadn’t fastened the buttons gave him a peek at the pale valley between her breasts. His eyes locked on the shadowy curves.

“I’m late,” he said.

Her startled eyes jerked up from where she had been doing a little bit of assessing of her own. With a furrowed brow, she looked at him in confusion before a wistful smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Through the steamed glass, he could feel her eyes tracing his body, making him aware of his own physical response to her presence.

“Take your time. It was hard to pull myself out of the shower, too,” she admitted.

“I want you,” he stated.

Her eyes widened at his unexpected comment. She ran her eyes down his body again. He curled his fingers into a fist when she licked her lips. She wasn’t making this any easier. With a sigh, she forced her eyes back to his face.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I know my family and if we don’t go down in the next few minutes, they will be coming up here to find out why, I’d show you how much I want you too,” she confessed in a rueful voice.

His lips twitched. “Another thing humans and shifters have in common.”

“What’s that?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Irritating family.”

She laughed and nodded. “I’ll wait for you in the other room.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, the words bursting from his lips as she started to turn away.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Yes, I do. There are a few things I need to explain about shifters before we make love—and we will be making love if I have any say in the matter.”

“What do you need to explain?”

Her gaze roamed over him before she emitted a low, rumbling noise that sounded almost like a purr and flushed again. Looking up at him, she gave him a wry, almost apologetic expression.

“When shifters find their mate, they can be very possessive… and horny,” she blurted out the last word before twisting away from him.

He watched as she exited the bathroom. Feeling for the controls behind him, he turned off the shower. Her parting words echoed through his mind, causing him to look down. He was primed and ready. A slow grin of anticipation curved his lips. He could handle horny.

He opened the shower door and pulled the towel off the hook. Five minutes later, he was dressed in the clothes that Ty had given him. Overall, everything fit well. The white, long-sleeved shirt was soft as a downy feather against his skin. The shirt was a little broad in the shoulders and the trousers were loose in the waist, but once he tucked them in and tightened the adjustable belt around his waist, it wasn’t noticeable. The socks were thick and soft. He wiggled his toes in the material. This was much better than any his mother had ever made. He was surprised when he slid his feet into the soft faux leather shoes. They were a half-size too big, but with the laces threaded through the top two holes, he could walk in them without them slipping.

He ran a comb through his hair and studied his reflection in the mirror with a critical eye. Dressed as he was, he almost didn’t recognize himself. His short, black, curly hair still had the sheen of being damp to it. He ran his hand along his jawline. It had been nearly a week since he shaved the hair from his face. He had left the top three buttons of the shirt undone. He looked… like a stranger.

A knock at the outer door drew his attention. The indistinct murmur of voices warned him that Tracy hadn’t been kidding when she said if they didn’t go downstairs soon that someone would come looking for them. He exited the bathroom, pausing just outside of the door.

“It looks like everything fit you pretty good,” Ty said with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about the interruption. Michaela has to leave soon, but wanted to see you before she left.”

“I’m sorry to have kept everyone waiting,” he replied.

Ty shrugged. “No worries.”

He met Tracy’s eyes… and swallowed. Her eyes were glowing with a desire that was impossible to miss. If her brother hadn’t been standing in the doorway, they would have never made it out of the bedroom. He walked across to them and spoke without looking at Ty.

“We’ll be down in just a minute,” he said.

“O-kay, I’ll tell the others five more minutes,” Ty murmured.

Mitchell reached out and closed the door the second Ty turned away. Tracy turned and leaned against the thick wood door. He placed his hands on each side of her head, effectively caging her between him and the rich wood.

“I’m not sure five minutes will be enough,” she murmured before rising to capture his lips.

He leaned into her, keeping his hands on the door. He knew if he touched her, she would be right—five minutes would never be enough time. Her lips parted under his hungry kiss. He didn’t waste time playing; he wanted her to feel his desire—and his determination.

Their tongues danced a torturous duel, igniting both of their bodies. He could feel her bowing her back to thrust her breasts against his chest. The thin thread of control he was trying to maintain snapped. He wrapped one hand around her ponytail and slid the other one down to cup her breast. Her low moan sounded almost like a growl of approval.

Their breaths mixed and his heart felt as if it would explode. His body jerked forward when she cupped his groin. His breath exploded out of him in a long hiss and he stared down at her with blazing eyes.

Her face was flushed and her lips were rosy while her eyes were soft with desire. His hands tightened when she squirmed against him. There was a chemical reaction between them that he had never experienced before.

“Our five minutes is almost up,” he said, watching her face flush even rosier when he rolled his hips against her hand.

She muttered a curse and shook her head as much as she could with his hand still holding her. His lips twitched with amusement when she rolled her eyes and shot him an annoyed glare.

“If we don’t go down this time, they’ll send the big guns up,” she groaned.

“Your father?”

She shook her head. “Worse… Martha.”

He leaned forward, stopping when his lips were almost touching hers. “Then… I guess we’d better go.”

“One more kiss.” She reached out her hand, gripped the back of his head, and pulled him into her kiss.