The Mountain Man's Mate(14)

Michel reached up and used his thumb to tug Jason's abused flesh from   between his teeth. "It's the opposite, actually," he revealed. "Yer life   will be extended to match mine. If I live another hundred fifty years,   so will you. Me father was a shifter. Me mother was human. She died   because he did."

For a second, Jason didn't get it. It hit him and he gasped. "If you die, I die?"

"Aye."

The quiet confirmation rocked Jason. He was now and forever, completely   tied to another man's life. What could he say to that? And to have no   say in the matter? "I-" He stopped, realizing that he'd had a choice-and   made it-without even knowing. What did he do now?

"I don't know what to say," he whispered, stunned.

He'd already irrevocably changed his life once in the last month. Now,   he'd done it again, albeit unwittingly. He'd come here to get his life   back on track, falling back on a promise from an uncle he rarely spoke   to, but who'd never judged him. Now, he found out that some men could   turn into animals and one had claimed him. What did that mean for his   life?

At least this conversation had caused his boner to dissipate. Michel had   been right. He'd definitely given him something else to think about.

Jason looked up and found Michel watching him, concern tightening his   brows. He sighed. "What do you expect to happen? What's this mean   for … us?"

Michel slowly blew out a breath between his lips. "It means … " He paused,   his eyes narrowing. For a second, Michel's dark eyes glittered. "Fuck   this is horrible timing," he grumbled.

Already uncertain about this thing between them, Jason snapped. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Shite, I'm fucking this up." Michel growled.

In a smooth move, Michel rolled on top of Jason and trapped his wrists   in one hand above his head, gripping his hair tightly in the other hand.   He used the hold to tilt Jason's head back and he glared down at him   fiercely. "You are me mate. Me life. I am nothing without ye. I want to   please ye, care for ye, see to yer every need and make ye happy. Keep  ye  safe. I want to be yer partner."                       
       
           



       

For several seconds, Michel swept his gaze over and over Jason's face.   "It's fucking horrible timing because I'm in hiding. I can't woo ye the   way I'd like, the way ye deserve. I can't wine and dine ye. I can't go   into town at all for probably another seven or eight years, until   everyone has forgotten all about William McTiedry."

"Who's William McTiedry?" Jason asked, because he knew he couldn't process everything else Michel had said.

Michel's body seemed to sag. "I'm William McTiedry, Jason. Or I was up   until just over three years ago. Now William's a name on a death   certificate. It's something I've had to do before. Reinvent meself.   Create a new history, start a new life. Shifters know it's something   that has to be done occasionally and we support each other through the   lonely times."

Growling in frustration, Michel released him and flopped onto his back   beside him. He stared up at the ceiling and snarled, "Now, I find I have   a young, sexy mate, who's just starting his life, and I won't be able   to join him in all the fun things he wants to do."

"That's what you think of me?" Jason whispered, shocked at the man's   words. Michel had just made it painfully obvious that he saw Jason as a   pretty, playboy who didn't know what he wanted out of life. In his   defense, they hadn't talked, and Jason had fallen into his arms as soon   as Michel had crooked a finger. Still, if Fate had chosen him for   Michel, shouldn't the man have a little faith in him?

Michel groaned and turned his head to look at him. "Ye're twenty-two. What am I supposed to think?"

Jason nodded slowly, trying to pull his thoughts together. The proximity   of the other man made it hard to think rationally. That's when it hit   him. Obviously, they both needed time to get their heads on straight.   Jason knew he needed time to accept that shifters existed. He needed to   decide how a life with Michel would work, too, and lying here next to   him didn't give him the opportunity to figure that out.

"We don't know each other very well. That's true," Jason commented,   searching for the right words. "It seems we've jumped into the deep end   without really discussing the consequences." He cringed, knowing how   that sounded even before he saw Michel wince. "Look, I understand you   acted on instinct, right? Cause you're mixed with an animal?" Grimacing,   Jason quickly added, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"I understand," Michel grunted. "This is new … overwhelming, for ye."

Jason sighed. "I'd like us to get to know each other, but … after everything that's happened, I think I need us to slow down."

Michel nodded slowly. "Okay. I-I ask only one thing as we do this."

Nodding in encouragement, Jason prodded, "If I can."

"Ye can't have anyone else touch ye. Shifters are possessive sons of   bitches," he warned. "And I worry I'd track the bastard down and kill   him if I scented that something … intimate happened between you and   another."

Jason nodded once. That was an easy one. He couldn't imagine allowing   anyone but Michel to touch him any time soon, anyway. "Of course."





Chapter Eight





Michel leaped over the log, his paws crunching on last fall's leaves   upon landing, and galloped after the hare. It veered sharply left, and   Michel almost didn't make the turn. Righting his course, he sped after   the rabbit. His prey dodged wildly to the left, again.

Growling in pleasure, Michel knew he had it. He leaped, knowing the   beast was about to freeze upon figuring out its way was blocked by a   cliff. Michel's left front paw landed on the hare's back, nearly   flattening the animal with the force of his landing. He instantly   wrapped his jaw around the creature and bit, hard.

Blood and hair filled his mouth and he quickly ripped out his dinner's throat.

Once certain the hare dead, Michel grabbed it in his jaws and trotted   through the forest toward the clearing around his cabin. Dropping the   rabbit on his porch, he happily started chowing down his supper.

It felt good to be out in his wolf form, running and hunting, easing his   needs in the most primitive way. Lifting his head, he cocked an ear.   The only way it'd be better was if his mate had been waiting for him,   encouraging him to shift so they could cook and enjoy the plump hare   together. Sighing, Michel peered around the clearing surrounding his   cabin.

A yip drew his attention, pulling him out of his melancholy thoughts.                       
       
           



       

A moment later, Jamie appeared through the trees. One of his best   friends, the light brown wolf trotted toward him, his tongue lolling. A   moment later, two more wolves appeared-one black and one blond-dragging  a  doe behind them. Jamie yipped again, offering him part of their kill  as  recompense for hunting on his land.

Leaving his half-eaten hare behind, Michel trotted down the steps to   join his friends and enjoy the venison feast provided. For several   minutes, the sound of tearing flesh and crunching bone was the only   sound filling the clearing. The blond wolf stepped back and the man   shifted. Within a minute, a muscular blond-who appeared in his forties   but Michel knew had actually celebrated his three century mark six years   prior-crouched next to them.

"All right, ye dogs," Preall jeered. "That's enough. Let's get this deer   quartered. I want some fucking steaks tonight for supper."

Michel growled and grabbed one hind leg between his teeth, playfully   tugging it away from Preall. His buddy laughed while Jamie, who   evidently agreed with Preall, nipped at his haunch. Michel growled   again, but released the animal. He sat back and let his tongue loll.

He really appreciated his buddies coming out to keep him company.   Especially since, if they hadn't been here while out running as wolf, he   would have been hunting Jason down.

He'd known all of them for centuries, growing up-to varying degrees-in   Ireland. Jamie-a light brown wolf-was the youngest. He'd hit his three   century mark in another couple months. Still single, he hopped from bed   partner to bed partner, claiming he refused to settle down until he   found his mate.