Hunters' Shadow (Book one of the Hunter Chronicles)

Chapter Seventy Three

She tilted her head in a quizzical gesture, fur twitching as she scented the air, trying to gauge his scent. Curious, but wary.

“Hannah?" He took a step towards her, and she shrank back, her ears flat against her head and a defensive snarl rippling through her bared teeth.

She can't understand us, Rothan cautioned.

Of course not. She was neither pack, nor had they mated. There was no link between them, they couldn't communicate in wolf-form. But why be afraid? She knows us.

I’m not sure she does.

He contemplated shifting so he could talk to her.

I wouldn't, Rothan warned softly. If she attacks, you'll be forced to defend yourself.

Why would she – He took another step towards her and she raised her lips in a half-snarl, confusion flooding her beautiful eyes.

She really doesn't recognise us, Blake realised. Confused, he sat down to reassess the situation, his eyes roving over her body, checking for injuries. She seemed relatively unharmed, though the faint tinge of smoke clinging to her fur suggested she'd found herself far closer to the fire than he liked to imagine.
How she had made it this deep into the forest Blake had no idea, but somehow during her flight she had shifted, her wolf breaking through the barrier that had kept her caged for so long, transforming her into the wolf he couldn't take his eyes off.

But it appeared her release had come at a price.

There was no sign that the wolf in front of him had any recollection of Blake or his wolf, nor any real comprehension of her whereabouts. He could see the bewilderment filling her eyes as unfamiliar smells assailed her. Her ears were constantly on the move, flicking back and forth nervously, but she made no move to flee from him, which and he felt a glimmer of hope that she too could feel the connection between them.

Surprisingly, Rothan then did something he'd never done before. Shoving Blake's consciousness aside, he took over, lowering himself into the fallen needles in a gesture of submission and releasing a soft whine of reassurance.

What are you doing? Blake demanded.

She’s a wolf.

I can see that.

Rothan let out a huff of impatience. She's not your Hannah. She's my Hannah.

I don't –

Wolf Hannah, not human Hannah... One of his ears twitched. And she's in charge.

Her wolf? Blake took a second look at the black eyes of the beautiful creature in front of them. The air smelt of fresh apples and warm cinnamon, almost overwhelming her familiar scent; enticing and full of promise. Her scent has changed.

You noticed, Rothan said dryly.

It's familiar, somehow, he noted in wonder – like some part of him had been waiting his whole life to smell it for the first time. It's captivating.

She's our mate, Rothan said, his tone filled with puppish glee.

I already knew that.

Our true mate, his wolf reiterated.

Blake thought about it a moment, and quickly came to the realisation that he didn't care. So? He dismissed the discovery. She was already our mate. We chose her. And she chose us.

She's magnificent, his wolf said proudly. Just look at her.

I am.

She continued to watch them carefully, her eyes studying them with such intensity that if they could have blushed, they'd have managed it. Clearly as enamoured by Rothan as he was by her, Blake was sure she could sense same connection they could, and it was overriding her natural instinct to shy away.
Rothan's flanks trembled as he held himself still, determined not to frighten her with any sudden movements, holding himself like a coiled spring, wound as tightly as possible and desperate for relief. She was here. They'd found her. She was safe.