Lycan Lust

Chapter Four

Rindy had been following Brent for several blocks now. She didn’t miss the way he glanced over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure she was still behind him, although if what he said was true about her scent, she doubted he’d have any trouble finding her again if she did run. And why should she doubt him? It explained so much—why she’d never quite managed to get away from the werewolves chasing her and how no matter where she went, she’d once again find herself being pursued.

She looked at Brent’s impressive shoulders. His back was wide and tapered to a narrow waist. His butt was not anything to dismiss lightly either.

He was an extremely sexy man. But she wouldn’t let that cloud her good judgment where he was concerned. He’d at least proved that he would protect her, and he obviously didn’t want her dead or to cause her any harm—at least not at her apartment. Was she being an utter fool? Was he leading her into a trap? Her muscles tensed up in a fight-or-flight reaction to that nasty thought.

Yet she was so tired, tired of running, tired of constantly looking over her shoulder. What if he was taking her to a safe place? The yearning she had to be somewhere she could relax and not worry about who was after her burned so deep that she was willing to take the risk. If she was wrong, maybe it would be better to face whatever fate had planned and be done with it. If she was supposed to die, so be it. She’d had enough of the hiding, of the constant fear that churned in her stomach. She wanted some peace. Was that too much to ask for?

She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to fully trust Brent, but she was absolutely certain of one thing. He was not like the other werewolves she’d encountered over the years. All the others had been instantly aggressive with her, just like the one had been that Brent had fought in her apartment. Brent, on the other hand, had been gentle with her, seemed to go out of his way to keep from scaring her. She just hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.

After a couple more blocks, they finally made it to his truck. She was bone-tired. It was late, and all she wanted was some sleep. Brent opened the door for her, and she removed her backpack from her shoulder and tossed it in the backseat of the extended cab. The truck was charcoal gray. It had big tires, and all the glass was tinted. She climbed in and was surprised at how comfortable the seats were. Brent closed her door, walked around to the driver’s side, opened his door, and slid behind the wheel.

“If we drive straight through, we should be there by late tomorrow afternoon.” Brent started the truck and put it in gear.

“Okay.” She snapped her seatbelt in place.

“It’s nothing fancy, but I think you will like it.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Nothing could be as bad as some of the hole-in-the-walls she’d stayed in. If it was anything like his truck, she’d be in heaven. “As long as it has hot water and a comfortable place to sleep, I’ll be happy.”

He gave her a warm smile that made her heart thump a little faster. “I think you will be perfectly content then.”

Once they made it on the highway, she settled back into the soft seat. He flipped the radio on a classic rock station, and Aerosmith quietly rocked through the cab. Up in the distance, lightning lit the sky in bright, intermittent flashes. She’d always loved storms. As strange as it may be, they’d soothed her, calmed the inner turmoil that always seemed to be swirling inside her.

“I love the rain.” She sighed.

“Better enjoy it now. A few hours north, and all you will see is snow.

Hell, in a few days after this warm front moves out, all you’ll see here is snow.” He glanced in the side mirror, turned his blinker on, and switched lanes. “I love it too, by the way—the rain.”

She watched him for several moments, admiring his strong hands as they gripped the wheel of the truck. “Really?”

He nodded. “Mmm, hmm. I’ve always thought things seemed new, cleansed after a good rain. Not to mention, I love the smell of a good storm rolling in.”

She smiled. “Yeah. Me, too.” She frowned.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was quiet.

She wondered if he was worried that she’d changed her mind about coming with him. “I still don’t understand why you’ve been trying to find me. The night my mother and sister were killed, I was told that I have an important role to fill.”

“Hey, let’s not worry about that right now.”

She noted that he appeared to be uncomfortable with the subject. Well, too damn bad. “I do worry about it. My whole life has revolved around this.

Tell me what is going on.”

“You won’t like it, Rindy.”

“I haven’t liked running and hiding for the past ten years. I haven’t liked feeling scared, and I certainly haven’t liked living with the memories of what was done to my mother and sister.”

Brent rubbed his hand over his face. “The reason you’ve been followed is because you have the scent of a werewolf mate. There is a mate that is destined for each of our kind. This mate carries two scents, a main scent that will alert any lycan of a potential mate and another scent that only the destined mate can smell. When we come across a potential mate, we know instantly that they are not meant for us if we cannot detect the second mated scent. We are supposed to protect potential mates. Mates are crucial for our species’ survival. However, many of the younger lycans have gone rogue and believe they have the right to do as they wish with those who carry the main scent.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t had a chance in hell of ever getting away from them if that was true. But a mate to something that she had loathed for so long? The thought terrified her. How could she be destined to be with the species that had murdered her family?

“I know this must be a shock, but look at it this way. Thousands and thousands of humans commit murder, rape, and other crimes every day, yet you don’t condemn the entire human race, do you?”

She thought about that for a moment. No, she didn’t. He was right, but she wasn’t sure if she could ever convince her mind to think otherwise after despising his kind for so long. “No. I don’t. But it’s different.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It just is.”

“It’s not really. But I understand that it will take some time for you to see that.”

She straightened. “If I’m destined to be a mate, then maybe you can help me avoid him. If he never finds me, I won’t be forced into something I don’t want. Because I have this feeling I would be forced, wouldn’t I?”

“No respectable lycan would force you to do anything. But, you have to understand, your destined mate is imprinted with the need to protect you, to claim you. He would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”

“It sounds so cold to me. What kind of relationship would it be if we were only together because we were fated for one another? What about love and respect?” She let her head rest against the window beside her. The cool surface felt refreshing against her skin. “And what if my mate isn’t respectable?”

“What about soul mates, love at first sight, true love? Those, to me, are fated things as well, and I think there is plenty of love and respect in those types of relationships. Why would it have to be any different?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t like the idea of being told who I have to be with.” She closed her eyes, not missing the fact that he didn’t comment on what it would mean if her mate wasn’t respectable. She could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. She didn’t want to think about any of this at the moment.

“Just because you are destined to be with someone, doesn’t guarantee you will end up with that person. Plenty of lycans never find their mates. To me, it simply means that there is one perfect match somewhere, the other half of a soul.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Her lids felt heavy, and they began to close.

She’d been asleep for close to five hours. Her head rested against the window, and she was so tiny, she reminded him of a helpless child. She was anything but. She had more fight in her than most men he’d known. He was more worried about her mental fragility. She’d seemed appalled and defeated when he’d told her she was a destined mate. She’d dealt with so much in her short lifetime. His heart ached for her. His mate should have been cared for, protected until he’d found her and claimed her. Instead she’d been hunted and abused.

She was going to flip out when she found out he was her mate. He’d almost told her. It had been on the tip of his tongue. Now he was glad he hadn’t because he had a feeling that, at this point in time, that particular information would send her into a desperate flee for freedom every chance she got. He felt a bit guilty, but he hoped by the time she found out, she’d love him enough to forgive him.

Something had to be done about the rogues who were terrorizing potential mates. Mates were essential to their well-being, peace of mind, and survival, and they were being mistreated instead of protected. He’d killed several rogues himself, but he couldn’t control them all. His friend, Anthony, had killed a few also, but still, they could only take out so many. If the rogues continued to hurt and even kill potential mates, their race would end up dying out. How hard was that to understand? The idiocy and narrow-mindedness of it all made him angry and sad.

How many more lycans would have to be denied their mates before the older lycans banded together and stopped the rogues once and for all?

Dishonorable acts against potential mates may be punishable by death, but little was done to enforce the ancient law nowadays. And, as far as he was concerned, none of the bastards acting in such a disgraceful manner deserved to claim their own mates. He pitied any woman who ended up shackled to a rogue.

He wasn’t certain how to stop it. The younger lycans needed to be brought up to understand the importance of mates. It seemed the older lycans had turned their backs on the younger wolves. Brent knew there would always be instances when a lycan would have to be killed, but killing all who had gone rogue was not the answer, as those numbers were increasing. If things continued as they were without some type of values instilled in the young ones, there would be no new blood worthy of sustaining the lycan race.

Unfortunately, until something was done to help teach the young ones appropriate behavior, killing them remained the only answer. This saddened Brent, because many of the lycans who’d gone rogue were outcasts and had simply done the best they could to survive on their own.