A Runaway Mate

Chapter Two.

Finn's Point of View.

Pulling into the driveway, a uneasy feeling settled into my stomach. The chilly air felt lifeless, dull. Shutting off the engine and swinging open the car's door, the air smelled of her. My mate. It was faint, the scent lingering closely to the ground. With my chest feeling hallow and yearning, I followed the smell to the side of the house. Looking up to the window that my room held, a curse fell from my lips upon seeing the screen was split down the middle. She was supposed to be in that room, I left her there after I took her home. She had hit her head hard yesterday on that damned tree after she ran from me. Why would she leave? She could be passed out in the middle of the forest, completely oblivious of the dangers that lurked around.

Anger and worry coursed through me, making my hands ball into a fist. She was putting herself in unnecessary danger. Glancing to the ground, small imprints of bare feet were left in the soft soil. Following her strawberry scent and the footprints, I ran into the forest that surrounded the house. My Wolf clawed at the surface, concern for his mate evident. As the urge to shift became stronger, I jogged while trying to follow the scent. And when I looked forward, a flash of blonde hair bobbed between the trees. Unconsciously, a breath of relief escaped me.

“Hey!” I yelled, mentally kicking myself when she ran. I shouldn't have said anything.

She ran; she was always running away from me. All though she was human, we were mates. I couldn't dream of hurting her. The thought of her hurting hurt me.

Easily catching up with her, my arms wrapped around her petite waist. She didn't struggle, but sliced my arm with the small knife she carried. I cursed loudly, wondering where she got the knife from and why I didn't see it yesterday when I carried her home. Accidentally dropping my mate, the slit on my arm oozed warm blood but the tingling sensation of healing overtook the wound. Quickly recovering from the minor setback, I pounced at her. I underestimated my strength and momentarily forgot of her fragile human body as I tackled her to the ground. Twisting my body to absorb the collision to the ground, she landed on me. She flipped her body—breathing heavily—and attempted to crawl.

“Please stop struggling,” I begged, not wanting to force to take her home against her wishes.

“Fuck off,” she grounded out, her nails digging into the soil. Despite her choice of words, I swooned at her words.

Picking myself up from the ground, I said, “I'm really sorry about this, keep that in mind.” Grinding my teeth together in frustration with myself, I grabbed her waist and hauled her over my shoulder. As if she was stunned, she paused for a beat then started struggling. I hated forcing her to do anything, but once she knew hopefully she would understand.

“Let me go, asshole!” she yelled, her small voice echoing through the air. Her tiny fists banged against my back and her legs started kicking. I held her knees together to lessen her struggle, biting my lip and reminding myself that this was for the best.

I sighed, making my way back to the house. Ironically when I expected to find my mate, I thought it would have been better than this. “I'm sorry, I can't.”

“What? Yes you can!” she argued. “You could literally drop me and forget that I was here!”

“You don't understand. Trust me, it'll all make sense soon.”