Page 9 of Mitchell’s Untamed Mate (More Than Human #2)

T alon Nightsky exited the building through the basement. The underground car park was creatively built under the gardens. From above, the building looked like an elegant country manor built in the late seventeenth century. The manor was a historic building. The garage that had been built below ground with beautiful gardens above was not.

As the director of the SBSI, his primary task was to ensure that the agency remained unnoticed and ran smoothly. This position allowed him certain benefits, which included being advised of all major developments—including the discovery of humans.

The lights of his black EV sedan flashed as he walked up to it. Opening the driver’s door, he slid into the seat. Only when he was inside, away from the prying eyes of any surveillance cameras, did he lean his head back, close his eyes, and release a deep sigh.

He opened his eyes and pulled back his sleeve. His fingers stroked over the intricate tattoo on his inner left wrist. The symbol of his heritage—his duty. Until Ty Bearclaw discovered the human named Ella in a trap, he thought the Order of the Guardians was nothing more than an antiquated society.

Since the shifter-human war, the Guardians had tirelessly combed the Earth, seeking any trace of human existence. They had been reduced to becoming collectors of human history instead. Many of the discovered artifacts went to the Observatory. Only the very rare pieces that pertained to the legend of King Or’Ang were taken to a different location in the hopes they might reveal the secret lost with past Guardians.

He stiffened when his cell phone vibrated. Looking at the display, he knew he had to take the call. Connecting, he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Is it true?” an elderly voice inquired.

“Yes.”

“Did he speak of the other humans? Did he—” The trembling voice paused. Talon briefly closed his eyes. “Did he speak of the king and his temple?”

“No… not yet,” he added in a gentle voice.

“You must get him to tell you, my boy. It is our duty. This is what we have been waiting for.”

“Grandfather—” Talon gritted his teeth and ran his hand down over his face. He didn’t want to get his grandfather’s hopes up—nor dash them. “I will find out. I promise.”

“You are the Collector, Talon. You know your duty. This is what I have been training you for your entire life, just as my father trained me and his father before him.”

“I know who I am and what my responsibilities are. I will not fail,” he answered.

“Good. Good. Keep me informed.”

Talon winced when his grandfather started coughing. The old shifter had little time left to live. His chest tightened at the thought of losing the last member of his family.

“I will. Make sure you take your medicine. I’ll stop by later this evening to visit,” he said.

His grandfather chuckled before ending the call on another coughing spell. He leaned over and placed his phone on the charger. Thaddeus Nightsky had taken in a very frightened and lonely boy and given him strength and knowledge in a way few boys with Talon’s history could have ever imagined.

He started the car and pulled out of the underground garage, emerging on a gravel road that curved through the woods before reaching the outer perimeter of the compound. A guard stepped out of the old rock and mortar guardhouse to inspect his badge before opening the gate. Security was tight—whether entering or leaving, especially when the President was visiting.

The thought of facing Michaela was enough to cause any shifter to grimace. The grizzly-shifter made a formidable adversary. Fortunately, they were on the same side. At least… he hoped they were. If they weren’t, then things would get nasty very quickly.

The buzz of his cellphone caused his eyes to flicker to the screen. He grimaced when he saw the number. This call was on a private disposable phone. He debated whether to accept the call or not. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Yes.”

“I thought you weren’t going to answer.”

“I wasn’t. What do you want, Ms. Wyland?” he bit out.

Silence greeted his brusque response. He could almost picture Isabella Wyland clenching her fine china tea cup and imagining how she would love to kill him—if she knew who he was. The thought gave him a small amount of satisfaction.

“I… require your assistance,” she said.

“You lost the privilege of requesting my assistance when you double-crossed me on our last agreement,” he replied.

“I’ll triple the price,” she stated.

He guided his car to the edge of the road and pulled to a stop. Whatever she wanted must be very important if she was willing to triple her price. He would turn her down, but she had piqued his interest.

“I’m listening.”

She huffed out a deep breath. “I have men in the field. I need you to supply support and transport them and any cargo they have out of the country.”

“What’s the cargo?”

“That’s not your concern. Will you accept the job?” she snapped.

“I’ve seen the type of men you employ, Ms. Wyland. Let’s say they are less than stellar. Without more information, I regretfully will have to decline your generous offer. Good day,” he replied in a dry voice.

“Humans,” she said in a low, intense voice. “There are more. My men are searching for them. Once they locate them, they will need to be extracted and transported out of the country without government interference.”

He stared out the windshield. Isabella was talking about the men who had left the truck and SUV where Tracy Bearclaw and her human male had been found. Somehow, she had discovered the location where Ty Bearclaw’s mate had been discovered—probably from the rancher that was brutally murdered.

“Have they found any?”

His fingers tightened around his cell phone as he waited for her response. Her frustrated sigh caused him to lean back against the seat. Her delay told him that there was still time.

“One was found and tranquilized, but before he could be transported, the SBSI intervened. My men got away, but the human is in the government's custody now. It doesn't matter. There are plenty more to find,” she stated.

“I see. As tempting as your offer is, I’m afraid I will still have to decline, Ms. Wyland,” he finally responded.

“Why?”

He released a dry chuckle. “You undermined my last job, Ms. Wyland. Once was enough,” he answered before disconnecting the call as she sputtered an angry reply.

He gripped the phone between his hands and snapped it in two. He would dispose of it once he returned home this evening. The time had come to sever all contact with Isabella Wyland. His priority of locating human artifacts had changed. Now… it was time to locate the humans themselves.

Opening the glove box, he retrieved another disposable phone, punched in a number he had memorized as a young shifter, and sent an alert text out. His time as the Collector had come to an end. He was now the Protector.

Mitchell closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Tracy’s arms around him. Her reaction when he entered the room had both surprised and pleased him. The clink of porcelain against porcelain reminded him that they were not alone.

He reluctantly released Tracy and stepped back. He carefully studied her, noting her tousled hair and the loose-fitting gray clothing she was wearing. He pulled his focus from her to look back at Michaela who was watching them with a shrewd, curious expression as she sipped her tea.

“What happens now?” he asked.

Michaela’s expression changed into a thoughtful one. “Mm, negotiations, I imagine, just as it would when any two groups meet.”

He frowned in suspicion. “What do you want?”

"To help you. That is all, really."

He studied her, and she returned his regard with an intensity that made him uneasy. It was as if she were pulling away the layers of his mind and could see the man underneath. While he didn’t consider himself weak or vulnerable, he was in a completely different environment than any he had been in before—and he was surrounded by a species known to be stronger and faster than a human.

Her expression softened as if she could sense his unease. He tried to shield his emotions, aware that shifters could also sense them in a way few humans could. He glanced at Tracy when she threaded her fingers through his.

“You can trust her,” Tracy murmured.

He shook his head. “I don’t trust anyone,” he stated.

Pain flashed through her eyes before she looked away. Mitchell felt bad about hurting her feelings, but… this was about more than what he wanted. This was about the people he had sworn to protect.

Michaela placed her teacup on the serving tray and stepped closer to him. In the natural light filtering through the windows, he could see the touch of silver at her temples and the faint lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her dark brown eyes were filled with compassion, but also determination. He could understand why the other shifters bowed to her presence. She projected power in her every move.

“You can’t put the bear back in the bottle once it has been released. Shifters know that humans exist, and we can't adequately secure a village in a forest when its existence is going to spark this amount of world-wide curiosity. Someone would get in and someone would get hurt… possibly die. From what Ella has told me, there aren’t many of you left. Are you willing to chance that?”

He stiffened and pulled his hand free from Tracy’s. Despite Michaela’s calm voice, he heard and understood the steely warning laced in her softly spoken statement. Humans would be hunted—this time to extinction.

“Tracy has told me what you suggest.”

Michaela glanced back and forth between him and Tracy. He didn’t follow her gaze. Tracy’s distress was almost palpable in the room.

“I would like for you to set up a meeting between the leader of the humans and myself to offer the full protection of the United Species of North America,” she said.

“I've heard what your 'protection' would entail. How do we know that your cage won't last forever? How do we know that your cage won't look exactly like the cell I was just put in? How do we know that we won't die in your cage faster than we would at home?”

“None of that will happen. I swear on my bear, Mitchell. It will be a home, not a cage. You will not be prevented from leaving if you want to, and you will be safe. Give me a chance to present this to your leader. I’m sure he or she would understand,” Michaela insisted.

He clenched his fist, turned, and walked over to the window, staring sightlessly at the glass.

The silence stretched, and Tracy added softly, “You should know better than anyone that there are no guarantees in life. This is a chance . Your best chance.”

Through the window, he could see the immaculate driveway and lawn. Brilliant flowerbeds, manicured and tended with care, lined the gravel drive. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

The shifters have evolved while we’ve regressed to the point of being little more than… nothing. Whether we die in the 'care' of the shifters or we die as we were, what would it matter if humans no longer existed?

The thought sent a shaft of pain through him. As he came to a decision, a calm resolve settled over him. Even though he may not prefer it, he understood what the correct choice was. Opening his eyes, he slowly turned to face Michaela.

“I accept your terms.”

Michaela’s eyes widened with understanding. A wry smile curved her lips and she bowed her head in acknowledgement of his position. He quickly glanced over at Tracy. She was standing closer to her aunt with her arms crossed. Regret washed through him. Their connection was still doomed. He would be sequestered with his people. She would not be.

"I will need to get back to my people soon. It will take time to convince them to do this. I will need to know everything about these new homes and the plan to bring us into shifter society. There will be a lot of questions—a lot of fear and distrust to overcome.”

He couldn’t help flickering his eyes to Tracy as he said the last part. She flinched and looked away from him. He swallowed the curse on his lips at hurting her again. It seemed he was pretty good at hurting those that he cared about.

Michaela nodded. “We have not yet brought to justice the group that kidnapped Ella. We are working on it. In the meantime, however, be aware that the more time you take, the more time the shifters hunting your people have to find you.”

“Auntie. Don’t pressure him,” Tracy chided.

"No, it's necessary information. I will keep it in mind," he replied.

Michaela sighed loudly. “Well, now that this is settled, why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable?”

“Where?” he asked with a confused frown.

This time Michaela smiled. “Why, the Bearclaw estate, of course. Art, Lena, and Ty have been working on the plans. This will also give you a chance to see Ella for yourself.”

Mitchell nodded. His eyes moved back to Tracy. She was standing with her hands in her pockets and looking at the floor. It was then that he realized that she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“What happened to your shoes?” he asked.

She looked up at him and shrugged. “I hate wearing shoes at the best of times. It seemed a waste to put on the slippers they tried to give me, in case....”

He tilted his head and studied her face when her voice faded. “In case....”

She huffed, pulled her hands out of her pockets, and waved them. “In case I needed to shift again.”

“Why would you need to do that here?” he asked.

This time she looked at him with an expression that was a cross between defiance and sadness. She lifted her chin slightly higher. He could see the conflict in her eyes before it was replaced with resignation.

“Because that’s what shifters do when their mate is in danger,” she snapped.

The silence was deafening.

“Well… now that the truth has come out, shall we take our leave and finish this somewhere a little more private?” Michaela suggested.

Mitchell nodded his silent agreement, too stunned to speak. He stared after Tracy as she strode to the door, yanked it open, and exited the room. He followed at a slower pace with Michaela falling behind. Outside the door, the man from earlier hovered anxiously along with five other men and women dressed in black suits.

He tuned out the cacophony of other voices around him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tracy’s rigid back as she walked towards the magic doors. She impatiently jabbed at the button, her finger hitting it with a sharp tap. His lips twitched slightly in response to her mutinous expression. He shook his head as he replayed what she had just confessed through his mind.

Because that’s what shifters do when their mate is in danger. Mate…

He stopped a few feet from her and stared in shock. Mate… She thinks I’m her mate.

A hand against his lower back urged him forward when the metal doors opened, and he stumbled into the moving box. He turned so his back was to the shiny cold metal. Without thinking, he reached out and cupped Tracy’s icy fingers. She stiffened before relaxing and wrapping her fingers around his.

His eyes connected with Michaela’s in the reflection of the polished metal. He could see her curiosity reflected at him. Tracy was right. There were no guarantees in life. Whatever happened, he would deal with it—and continue to fight.