Revolting
Chapter 88 -

Chapter Fifty - The Rogue Hunter Michael

I poked at the rabbit which was roasting on a spit over the small fire. My stomach was grumbling and complaining. I'd been living off small game for weeks, and I was beginning to know why they called it "rabbit starvation." The meat was too lean, and didn't provide my body with the fat it needed to run optimally. I poked at my own abdomen. "I think I've lost weight," I said to myself. Oh yes, I'd taken up the habit of talking to myself to keep loneliness from settling into my bones. "I don't think I've ever been this ripped."

And, as it always seemed to do, my mind wandered to Hannah. What would she think of my physique? Would she be pleased with the sharper, harder lines? If I closed my eyes, I could just imagine her tiny hands trailing over my muscles, that look of approval and satisfaction in her eyes.

I grumbled and scratched at my beard. I looked and felt like a hairy cave man. I probably smelled like one too. I needed a bath, a bar of soap, and a razor in the worst way.

I couldn't go back to my own pack, undoubtedly, the area alphas would be looking for me there. I was a fugitive now. I had become the thing I reviled the most. I was an outcast, a law-breaker, a rogue. I had fallen from the peak as an Alpha on the top of my game, down to the lowest depths of hell.

And it was all because of her.

My tiny little rogue mate.

In my dreams, she was there, standing toe-to-toe with me, looking up at me with big, luminous eyes, her soft lips pursed in disapproval as she rejected me. I felt the pain sear through me every time I remembered it, like a knife in my gut. I'd been so shocked to replace my true and fated mate. I'd discounted the whole thing years ago. I was Michael Bishop, I didn't need a mate. All I needed was a Right Now to satisfy my base needs while I went along my business. And then that tiny creature slapped me in the face and shook my whole world. Not only was she a rogue, she was a woman. How long had it been since I had found a woman desirable and attractive? I couldn't remember.

Oh, but when she had touched me, when she had put that soft mouth on me? I groaned and shifted my position beside the fire. Just the memory of the way she had tortured me in the barn made me hard with wanting. Night after night, laying on the cold hard ground, I played the memory in my head, sometimes stroking myself to release the god-awful want that just the thought of her stirred up in me. I imagined what it would be like to finally touch her. To hold that tiny body in my hands, to feel those small, pert breasts pressed against my palms, to taste every inch of her, and to plunge into the depths of her for the first time. I moaned out loud.

Everything was because of her. I lost my pack, because of her. I escaped from death because of her. I was now a rogue, because of her. I pulled the rabbit off the spit and burned my fingers. I shook them and swore. I was burning my fingers over a camp fire, because of her. I took the knife I'd stolen from some punk at a gas station and used it to saw off a piece of meat.

In the weeks after I had escaped from that barn, I had circled the territory, staying well clear of the bigger packs. When I felt things had quieted down enough, I came back around to the Rebel Moon. I was intent to go replace my mate, and carry her away from there. I no longer car Sneaking onto their territory hadn't been that hard, but Hannah wasn't there. I stayed for one good week, watching and waiting, but the only rogue I found was the brother. William's mate. I grimaced at the thought. Did that make William my brother-in-law?

Not that that was awkward or anything.

After watching and eavesdropping for days I finally figured out that she had left, and even the brother did not know where she had gone. Something about a dead human, I couldn't quite piece together the whole story. It made me furious at William, at the brother, how could they let a fragile little woman go out into the wilderness alone? She was no bigger than a child, at the mercy of werewolf hunters, horny rogues, and crazy vindictive Alpha's like myself. If anyone laid a finger on her... A growl curled out of my throat.

Not to mention...a lone rogue would go feral eventually, and by all reports, once a wolf lost her humanity, it was lost forever. And damnit, I couldn't lose her. Not again.

Finding her had become my sole purpose. I would replace her, and I would convince her that we belonged together. She would take back her rejection, and I would sink my teeth into that scrumptious, pale neck. But tracking her was like tracking a ghost. No scent, and so tiny she hardly left a footprint even in ankle deep mud. But I was a very determined man, and an exceptionally skilled hunter.

From my pocket I pulled three long strands of golden-red hair. I'd found them snagged in a branch yesterday, and there, close to the root where it had been pulled from her scalp, was the slightest residue of her scent. I wound the coppery threads around my finger, and watched them glitter in the firelight, even as I stabbed a piece of rabbit meat with my other hand and used my knife to shove it in my mouth. It was dry and tasteless, but at least it would fill my gut. "I'm coming for you, my rogue princess." I promised the hairs. "I will replace you."