Revolting

Hannah entered the little hallow where she and her brother had once lived. Most of their life they had been migratory, constantly on the move. But when Heath was shot by Michael, they had taken shelter in this hidden spot. She moved around as if in a dream, not caring that she was naked and exposed. The long winter had nearly erased the evidence of their camp. The lean-to she had once built out of pine boughs had fallen down, and now just looked like a haphazard pile of brush. She bent down and brushed away leaves and pine-needles to uncover the stone circle that had once contained their camp fire. She straightened and moved over to the base of one of the larger trees. She squatted down on the balls of her feet and dug through the leaf litter until she uncovered a few items that looked like garbage. A bent spoon. A chipped porcelain plate, a coffee cup with no handle. She wiped the dirt off from the items with her fingers and set them out carefully. A deep sense of melancholy washed over her. She felt deeply that she had lost something precious, but she couldn't tell what it was. Memories were washing around her in waves that broke over her, and then receded away leaving just flotsam and jetsam in their wake. Random images, voices, and overwhelming emotions.

While she was squatted there, Michael burst into the clearing, his big wolf panting from the effort of chasing after her as fast as his feet would carry him. He whined slightly, but she ignored him. A moment later, he shifted back into his human form, tall, muscular, and gloriously naked. She spared him a glance, and then went over to the pile of boughs that had long since shed their needles.

Michael looked around him, a pained look on his face. "I know this place," he said quietly, looking around. "This is the place I found you, the very first time I laid eyes on you."

Her face was hard as she turned toward him. She pointed an accusatory finger at him, and then pointed back to the pile of pine boughs. Michael shook his head helplessly, not understanding her pantomime. She grabbed her own shoulder hard, and then pointed again to the pile.

"Ah... your brother?" He looked at the boughs and vaguely remembered there had been a small lean-to built there. She nodded.

Michael ran his hands through his hair, making the unruly mess even more crazy. "Look babe, I don't know how much you can understand." He started to pace around. "I wasn't a good person, okay? I know it. You know it. I know you are remembering how I was." He made his way over to the pile of broken utensils and picked up the bent spoon, turning it in the light. "When I was just a boy, I watched a bunch of rogues rape and kill my mom. I wanted to save her, but I was just a kid, I hadn't even shifted yet. I felt so helpless, and so guilty, just watching them violate my mother in the most evil and depraved ways," He shook his head. "I couldn't save her, but I swore when I was big, I'd rid the world of that scum." His hands curled around the spoon, as if he wanted to strangle it. "I didn't take the time to differentiate between criminals and rebels... and those that were just unlucky in life. I hurt a lot of people, killed a lot of people, and I thought nothing of it." He sighed and carefully used his big hands to straighten the bent part of the spoon. "But I've changed... I swear to you Hannah..."

He took a step toward her, still holding the spoon in his big hand. "Fate had her way with me, you know? When you came out of those woods looking like a little golden angel... you brought me crashing down. I lost everything. My pack. My rank. Every material possession I owned. When I ran out of that barn that night, I didn't even have a stich of clothes." His mouth curled into a wry smile. "But I found the greatest treasure of all. I found you."

She shook her head and took a step backwards.

"Whatever you think of me... it made me a better man. Those rogues I had despised for so many years... they became my friends. Boyd and Frankie found me first. They taught me the ins and outs of surviving as a rogue. I didn't want to like them, but after awhile I realized... they were just regular men. They weren't evil or immoral. They were orphaned when they were just boys, and were thrown out of their pack when Boyd turned 18. Because he couldn't talk. But look, they were funny, strong, loyal..." He realized he was rambling and cleared his throat. "I wish I had it to do over again, Hannah, but I can't. I can't change the past. All I can promise you is that I'm a changed man. And I love you." He held out the straightened spoon as though he were offering her a flower.

Her brow furrowed up as she looked at him, her head tipping slightly to the side. He walked over to the edge of the little clearing. "This is where I was standing." He said quietly. He pointed with the spoon to the trees across the camp. "And that's where I saw you first. I'm sorry I was a bumbling idiot." He held her eyes with his beautiful hazel gaze and dropped down on to his knees. "Hannah, you are my mate, the other half of my soul, the most amazing and beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Please, give me a second chance." His expression was pleading with her. A tear left his eye dangled from his long lashes.

Her expression was flickering and unreadable. She marched across the camp in much the same way she had the day she had first seen him. She stopped right in front of him. Since he was still on his knees, he was almost at her eye level. Six months ago, he had insulted her. And she had lifted her hand to slap him, just before she rejected him.

She lifted her hand again, and Michael cringed, closing his eyes and waiting for the stinging impact.

Instead, her palm came to his rough cheek, her thumb caressing the delicate skin just below his eye, wiping away the tear. He opened his eyes and stared at her, hope flickering in his heavy heart. She was staring at him solemnly. She licked her lips and struggled to get a single word out. She took a deep breath and seemed to draw all of her concentration into a single word.

"Mate."