The Rogue Who Was Mine

acking her for three days. Her scent was faint, deliberately so, layered with crushed pine needles and river water, but a tracker learns to read a trail the way othe

was either very smart or

tered her bright golden hair to her head and shoulders in loose waves. Her ranger coat was dark with water, and her boots were caked to the ankle. She had broad

hern territory and that she had been seen near the massacre site three months ago. None of it match

out from

ater in one smooth motion. The river rushed behind her, loud enough to cover small sounds, and she had

e was flat, almost bored. "You people

my hands loose at my sides.

r the knife. Rain ran off the blade in a thin line. "You

not

ays. Trackers do not run unless they are hunting." She tilted h

's edge, and for a moment her balance wavered. I moved before I thought about it, one han

ld went

hat I felt my bones shift under my skin, and a sound came out of my throat that I had never made before, low and broken and desperate. Her eyes went wide. Her knife fell into the mud. She did not pull away. Tha

a

ere she had come from, but some part of me older than language recognized her down to the bone. My wolf

of me,"

thin, and it shook at the end, and I realized she felt it too. She had t

not

mud on her boots and rain in her hair, and the Council had given me a name fo

shaking

her wrist, and then back up at my face, an

ot do an

she pulled her arm free with a sharp twist. I let her. The moment our skin separated I felt the loss of it like a blow, a

s holding it low, not pointed at me, and her eyes kept darting

you are there

st

never hu

ot hunt

u have been on my trail since Tuesday. I have been smelling you

g in my chest, and every word of the file Vance had given me was turning to ash,

d you," I said. "T

d t

ranger at the edge of the territory, patient and ready, and I understoo

supposed to ki

ong moment, and then she nodded slowly, as i

sad face and a clean knife, and the wolf goes home and tells himself he had no choice."

at had gone hard and bright. My wolf was still howling. I could feel the shape of the truth press

t know,"

ver she had expect

rse tracker than y

he did not look back. I stood on the bank and watched her go, and my hand was still

lled. "What

nt I thought she had not heard me. Then she turned her head

to you. About me. About all of it." She climbed the far bank and disappea

turned and walked back to my truck, and all the way down the logging road I could

ri