Page 7 of Mitchell’s Untamed Mate (More Than Human #2)

M itchell clenched his fist as he watched Tracy walk down the road. It went against his nature to let her walk into danger. It suddenly dawned on him that if she could pick up his scent, he must have picked up hers. They had slept wrapped in each other’s arms, after all. He had slept on her quilt.

He turned, his mind racing as he frantically looked for an alternative means to mask his true identity. As he looked around, his gaze lingered on each potential choice, considering the possibilities. With the lingering touch of winter, the options were scarce and he needed to be careful. While some plants emitted a pleasant aroma, others were highly toxic or could trigger an allergic reaction.

He decided to utilize the sharp needles of a nearby evergreen. With a firm grip, he crushed the needles and rubbed them on his clothing, infusing it with the sharp pine scent. Sniffing his hands, he rubbed his hair as well. The crushed needles would be good to stuff in his jacket. By the time he was done, he could sympathize with Tracy. He was going to need a bath. He smelled like a tree.

Satisfied that he shouldn’t smell human any longer, he peered along the road in both directions before crossing it. He would stay in the shadows of the woods on the other side of the road. This way he would be coming up the opposite way—and upwind. Speaking to Ty on the 'phone' in case of trouble did not seem as helpful as being close enough to offer Tracy aid himself. Perhaps he could do both if the situation called for it.

He crossed the shallow ditch and strode across the road. Climbing the slight dip, he disappeared into the woods on the other side. Tracy had close to a half-hour start on him. He glanced up at the sky. It would be dark in less than an hour. That would both help and hinder them.

As he moved along the edge of the road, he thought about Tracy. It was hard to believe they had met only two days ago. She was strong and determined, yet passionate and empathetic. She had taken all of his preconceived ideas about shifters and blown them apart.

It doesn't hurt that she is also smart, resourceful, and beautiful.

It was the last part that scared the hell out of him. His reaction to her shook him. Their kiss had left him longing for something he knew he could never have. She would never be happy living in the forest, and his clan would never accept her. That was proven with Ella and Ty.

What kind of life could he possibly offer her? A life of danger? Hunger? Uncertainty?

She lived in a mansion. He found it hard to understand or imagine what such a place might look like. Hell, even her shelter and the items in her backpack were more advanced than he could offer her. A cooking fire that fit in the palm of his hand and a delicious meal made by pouring water into a pouch? He still had a hard time accepting how such things were possible.

I must seem simple and ignorant to her.

The idea made him wince. It didn’t help that deep inside, he knew he was. Tracy deserved someone who could support and protect her—in her world.

These were the same thoughts that had plagued him during their hike today. They were playing on a broken loop through his mind. Stopping in his tracks, he stared at the road in indecision.

Deep down, he knew the wisest answer to his quandary. If he was smart, he would have followed through with his original intention: guide her back here and leave her. He could easily lead whoever came into the forest away from his clan. They may be shifters, but unlike the humans, they had spent centuries living in cities. The forest was his home, and he knew it like the back of his hand.

Yet, the idea of leaving her defenseless against some unknown adversaries didn’t sit well with him. It was possible that Jace had been mistaken or that whoever he saw had given up and left, but he would make sure she was alright—and then he would disappear.

He started forward, only to fall back a step when a sharp sting struck his leg. Looking down, he reached for the metal cylinder that was embedded in his upper thigh. He wrapped his hand around it, frowning when the image blurred.

The crackle of dried leaves caused him to look up. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision when the world around him danced before his eyes. There was someone coming toward him.

He sank slowly to his knees into the thick layer of soft leaves. He tilted and fell onto his side. A fuzzy darkness was taking over his mind. His limbs felt heavy. He tried to fight the effects of whatever had been in the cylinder, but it was impossible.

The blurred figure stepped forward and bent. Warm fingers pressed against the side of his throat, feeling the steady beat of his pulse. Fear and rage gripped him as the helplessness inside him grew.

“We’ve got one,” the man’s deep voice stated.

Mitchell’s head rolled to the side as the drug took effect. His last thoughts were of the woman he would probably never see again—and the knowledge that once again, he had failed to protect his people. He could only hope that Jace would do a better job than he had.

Tracy’s lips tightened when she saw the swarm of vehicles along the road. A shifter in uniform saw her and called out. A lion shifter wearing a military vest graced with USNASBSI emblazoned on it walked forward to greet her.

Her gaze flickered over the woman’s tawny mane of hair and piercing gold eyes. The woman kept her hand resting on the butt of her service revolver. An antelope shifter ran up behind the woman and spoke in a low, urgent voice. Whatever the young woman said, it was enough to cause the field agent in charge to stiffen. The agent nodded and relaxed her grip on the gun.

Tracy stopped several feet from the group. Her glance flickered over two vehicles that looked out of place among the dozen black vans and SUVs—an older model red truck and a sporty gray SUV.

“What’s all the excitement about?” she asked.

The lion-shifter gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ms. Bearclaw?”

Tracy nodded. “Yes, I’m Tracy Bearclaw. Please tell me my aunt didn’t call out the United States of North America Species Bureau of Special Investigation because I went on a camping trip,” she quipped.

“No, ma’am. I’m Agent Darlene Southpaw. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Tracy leaned to the side and looked at the men and women surrounding the vehicles. She had a few questions of her own that she would like answered. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed a group of wolf-shifters in their wolf forms sniffing the vehicles.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

Agent Southpaw glanced over her shoulder before returning her attention to Tracy. The woman sniffed, and Tracy took a step backward. Gripping the straps of her pack, she focused on her own scent, trying to determine if Mitchell’s scent was noticeable above her own and the citronella spray.

“Nothing to concern yourself with. A couple of abandoned vehicles. Have you seen anyone else out here?”

Tracy shook her head. “No. Do you know who the vehicles belong to?”

“They were reported stolen. The truck belonged to a wolverine rancher,” Agent Southpaw said.

Tracy looked at the truck again. “I bet he’ll be happy to get his truck back.”

“He would have… if he hadn’t been murdered. His name was Clevis Shackle. Does the name ring a bell with you?”

Tracy frowned and shook her head. “I don’t recognize it.”

Agent Southpaw tilted her head. “It would appear he had a run-in with your brother.”

“Ty? Ty doesn’t have a run-in with anyone unless they are messing around on protected land. Even then, the worst thing he would do is fine them. Are you suggesting that my brother killed Mr. Shackle?” Tracy asked.

“Not at all. May I ask what you are doing here?”

Tracy raised her eyebrow. “What does it look like I’ve been doing?”

Agent Southpaw’s eyes narrowed at her sarcastic retort. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“Nope. You already asked me that once and the answer is the same as it was the first time I responded,” she replied before she nodded toward the group. She frowned when she noticed the wolf-shifters were gone. Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades. “Do you think whoever abandoned the vehicles might still be around?”

“It’s possible. How long have you been out?”

“Five, maybe six days. I work for the Observatory,” she replied.

Agent Southpaw nodded. “In the anthropology and archeology department studying humans.”

Her lips tightened. “The history of humans and their extinction,” she corrected.

“Yet they aren’t extinct—or so I’ve heard.”

Tracy was on the verge of replying when Agent Southpaw’s cellphone started buzzing. Her concern grew as she watched the agent walk a few feet away before finally responding. She quickly shifted her eyes towards the two vehicles being loaded onto a flatbed. Thus far, the sole piece of information she had gathered was that the wolverine rancher Ty had conversed with a couple of months prior was dead.

She fought against the temptation to glance back the way she came. Instead, she strained to hear what Agent Southpaw was saying. Her alarm spiked when the agent glanced at her with an intense expression before she partially turned.

“I’m sending a team down now.”

“What’s going on? Did you find the shifters you were looking for?” Tracy demanded when the agent lifted her hand and signaled to a group of agents near a large black van.

Agent Southpaw tilted her head. “Not yet, but I will.”

Tracy jumped to the side when the van revved up and sped past her—heading in the direction she had come. She started to follow only to stop when a firm hand grasped her upper arm. She turned on the agent with a low growl of warning.

“Let me go,” she snarled.

Agent Southpaw released her arm. Tracy unfastened the straps holding her backpack on and dropped it to the ground. She was already in motion before it hit. Terror built inside her. Unable to control her bear, she shifted in a flurry of shredded clothing.

In her bear form, she shot forward. Her claws dug into the road, sending a dust cloud of dirt and gravel behind her. She released a loud roar of warning, hoping that Mitchell would hear her and know there was danger.

She rounded the bend of the road just as an agent climbed into the back of the van. Through the opened door, her sharp vision took in the other three shifters in the back and an unconscious form on a gurney. The agent slammed the door shut with a shout of warning when he saw her.

Her bear was enraged at the sight of her unconscious mate. The driver of the van was in the middle of a three-point turn when she slammed into the side of the vehicle. The force of her impact lifted the vehicle off three wheels, almost turning it over.

Tracy was knocked backwards and rolled. She shook her head to clear it and surged back to her feet. The driver cursed when she focused on him. Her lips curled back, revealing long, deadly teeth.

She attacked the van again as the driver finished making his turn. Her front claws sank into the handle of the door and mirror. She rammed her head against the bullet-proof window, trying to shatter it so she could pull the driver out.

The driver accelerated with her hanging onto the door. She jumped, bracing her back legs on the running board. With another surge of strength, she jerked on the door. The metal creaked and twisted under the power of her enraged grizzly. She fell backwards when the door ripped off its hinges.

Rolling in the dirt and gravel, she lay stunned for a second before she tossed the door aside and struggled to her feet. The driver gunned the van, pushing the heavy vehicle on the gravel. Tracy roared with rage and leaped forward.

A hundred yards down the road, there was a line of USNASBSI vehicles on each side of the road. The second the van passed, they blocked the road. Agent Southpaw stepped in front of the vehicles and lifted a rifle to her shoulder.

Tracy’s bear veered to the right. She was almost to the edge of the road when the first tranquilizer dart hit her. Turning back toward the agent, Tracy fought to control her bear.

She stumbled when a second dart hit her in her left shoulder. Her bear slid the last few feet when the third dart struck her, coming to a stop less than a foot from Agent Southpaw. Her breathing was heavy and rapid as she fought against the lethargy overtaking her. She tried to rise, but collapsed almost immediately.

Must… get… mate.

Tracy desperately attempted to calm her bear, but it remained trapped in a cloud of anger and terror. As the meds in the darts kicked in, black spots started dancing before her eyes. She shook her massive head once more, hoping to dispel the fog inside. Rolling onto her side, she found herself staring up at Agent Southpaw, who took a step closer and pointed the rifle at her again.

“Load her into the other van,” Southpaw ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” the antelope-shifter said. “You heard her. Get Ms. Bearclaw loaded up.”

When Agent Southpaw crouched in front of her, Tracy curled her lip, wanting to rip the woman’s head off. She tried to pull her head away from the lion-shifter when the shifter reached out to touch her brow. It was impossible because of the sedatives they had pumped into her.

“Interesting. Very interesting,” Southpaw murmured.

“What is, ma’am?” the antelope-shifter asked.

Southpaw rose and looked down at Tracy. “Nothing to concern yourself with, agent.”

Tracy’s head tilted to the side. Her thoughts were muddled, and her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Despite her efforts to resist, her body remained unresponsive as the six agents placed her on a flat cart. In her last moments of awareness, she couldn’t help but question what had intrigued the agent so much.