Chasing Freedom

II

Introducing POV number two: Myles.

Myles watched the female, keeping his expression closed off. She was scared to death, without him adding to it. For a moment, he thought she would refuse the offer.

That she would reject him.

Except, she nodded instead.

Now, he kept his expression stoic for another reason. She did not need to see how relieved that made him feel. To have that power of him already was normal. She was his mate. To have her know it, when he didn't know a thing about her? That wasn't a position he felt comfortable in.

For all he knew, she was a spy. That's what his father would say, scolding him for trusting so quickly. But that was hypocrisy given the circumstances in which he'd met Myles mother.

When she didn't offer anything else, remaining mute, he stayed where he was. Curled as she was, she was tiny, so he knew at his full height her would stand over. He didn't want that, not when it would send her into a panic. He offered only his protection, but there was no way to convince her of that now.

The sentry around him were watching with interest, but as his gaze met theirs, narrowing, they wisely diverted their attention to the ground. To catch her the way he had, half frozen and left to suffer, meant that he was on edge. Usually, he would shift and deal with the problem then and there. Presently, he couldn't. Not when his other form would scare her off, given she was likely some kind of fox if her size was anything to draw from. He had to be careful how he treaded—and giving into the animal instincts of a bear was not doing so.

He took comfort in the fact that she had allowed him to wrap her in his scent and provide for her. Whether she knew that was why, ceased to matter. He had staked his claim and the other males knew that if they overstepped, it would be him they dealt with.

Not that his claim determined the outcome. She wasn't his, unless she made that call. Rejection would hurt, but he wouldn't pursue unless she was willing to do so. Afraid of him, like she was, she was in no such state of mind.

Even coated in half the forest, she was beautiful. Slight. Soft hair he longed to run his hands through. Her eyes, a shade of brown that reflected the sun.

He wanted to kiss her.

You're above your instincts, he told himself. Put your female first.

Step one of that was getting them back into safe lands. He trusted the sentries would protect them against an attack, but he wasn't about to test that. Not with her at stake.

Moving ever so slowly, he held out his palm. Left it there, as invitation she could choose to take. There was hesitation; her red, puffed eyes, darting around, like she wanted to run. Then she clasped his palm in hers.

"I'll protect you," he said, in case she was about to change her mind about the decision. "You'll face no harm under my watch."

Her pulsed started to race at his voice, but calmed as he spoke. Her hand didn't move.

She didn't trust him, he knew, but she kept the physical contact.

As he rose to stand once more, he pulled her up with him. She was shaky, but she didn't collapse, and he respected the hell out of her for that. She'd clearly been through the wringer, physically and emotionally, yet she was strong enough keep going.

How long had she travelled to find them? Was she injured significantly, where he couldn't see?

As soon as they were back to his home—