The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 93: Chapter 93

Michael didn’t wait to be told, he was already gone. His long legs ate up the length of the hallway to the side door in just a few strides. Once everyone was situated, Michael sat up front, riding shot gun while Brayden drove.
How he wound up inside one of those twelve seater vans the Pride had for long distance runs with his very pregnant Nari, his Neta, the Pride Beta and his mate, Reg, Gretchen, Lance, Pierce, Pamela, Uncle Uzzi, and the Witch’s limo driver, Hank, he would never even try to understand.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mikey,” Elissa said. “You wanna know how come you got a van full of Pride coming to get your mate.”
“How did you know that?”
“Cause all you men are the same,” She said and grinned. “But you are forgetting one thing. Kylie may be your mate, but that she-Tiger is one of my best friends. Fuck that, she’s family. I will always be there for my family,” Elissa vowed, and the others in the van growled and roared in agreement.
Michael nodded, beyond touched by her words, and he could not wait to tell Kylie. She would just about burst knowing what the Nari said. After he got her back, he would tell her everything. Well, after he’d loved on her for a few days.
He growled softly in his throat. Closing his eyes, Michael focused on the steadily pulsing matebond that was acting as some sort of otherworldly GPS and leading him straight to where those soon-to-be-dead rogues who abducted his mate were taking her.
Luckily, the assholes only had a couple of hours’ head start. With his pedal to the metal, and some knowledge of South Jersey’s back roads through the Pine Barrens, and a very understanding Jersey Devil who had allowed them to use his family’s land as a cut-through, Brayden soon had them dead to rights.
“She is close,” he growled.
The sun had already set, but the feel of their matebond strengthened the closer Michael got to Kylie. Brayden pulled over at Michael’s indication. A beat up truck was parked at a deserted rest stop off I-95.
The gas station was still active, but the restaurant and tiny convenience store had long since been closed. The fuckers parked way in back, so as not to be seen, he figured.
“Stay here,” Michael growled as he exited the van.
They had parked on the other side of the lot where there was only one other car present.
Michael ignored it and walked towards the other battered old pickup. He could not see anyone inside, but the scent of flowers and spice was strong.
Kylie.
His heart squeezed in his chest. She had been there, he was certain, but it appeared he was too late, he thought as he moved in closer.
Wait a second, he paused. Rubbing a hand over his face, he wanted to be sure he was not seeing things.
“Kylie!”
He noticed a prone shape lying down across the ripped and scarred seat. It was her inside that filthy vehicle. Michael ran without hesitation and grabbed the door handle.
He recognized her blonde hair and her unique scent, that was forever tinged with faint traces of his own mint essence. His beast gained satisfaction from that change in her fragrance, but anger quickly replaced that feeling at the state she was in.
She was slouched over, her breathing wheezy and troubled. Green eyes stared, tearing up as she struggled to blink.
“Hang on, kitten,” Michael said as he opened the creaky door.
“Michael,” she barely whispered, weak as she was.
Her breathing grew jerky, and he smelled her fear. That only made his Tiger more aggressive. Fury at the fuckers who stole her, he noted his hands shook as he attempted to sit her up and looked at her pupils.
He was going to kill those bastards, he vowed to himself. He did not like her afraid. Every instinct he had pushed him to get her out of that stinking vehicle and home where he could keep her safe and secure.
Michael’s heart thundered as he bent over and placed one arm around her back and the other under her knees. He pulled her across the torn seats and growled at the discarded waste and stains that she’d been sitting on.
Those bastards were going to pay for this. It was not only an insult to his mate, but to him as a Tiger and a Healer as well. Whether she wanted him for keeps or not, she was his to avenge.
Anyone who thought otherwise was welcome to find out for themselves just how fucking serious he was. The moment he moved to lift her out of the disgusting truck, Michael froze. The cold muzzle of what he expected was a rifle pressed against his ribs.
“What kind of Shifter brings a gun to a Cat fight?” he snarled the question.
Pussy, snarled his Tiger—the animal had clearly spent too much time with Uncle Uzzi.
“Easy there, fella,” growled a young male, a Tiger from the scent of him, but not of the Maverick Pride.
Michael already knew it was not one of his own that had dared kidnap a female, especially a claimed one. Still, he would not risk his sweet mate for all the world.
Hating what he had to do, he met her scared eyes and tried to impress upon her everything he was feeling. He placed her on the seat and turned slowly, hands raised.
“N-no,” Kylie struggled to sit up.
“Easy,” he told her, concern for her making him stupid.
The douche bag with the gun hit him hard in the ribs, and he grunted, but refused to fall. He needed to make sure Kylie was safe before he could even consider what was about to go down.
Her fast metabolism would normally burn through the toxins these animals injected her with, but the bastard who mixed the potion would account for that. Michael didn’t necessarily think the two idiots who’d done this had the capacity to think that scientifically.
“Well, well, this here the boy who plucked your flower, girl?”
Another approached, and this man’s accent was harsh, his voice rough and cruel. Michael turned his head slightly away from the younger male who was holding the rifle to the older, bearded man whose stench was at once upon him, and most reviling. Hell, it was all he could do to keep from puking on the bastard.
“You might wonder why it is that a Shifter such as myself has such a profound and disturbing body odor,” the soon-to-be-dead man walked around to Michael’s front.
“You see, I was a bit of a heartbreaker in my youth and in my days of sowing wild oats, well I kinda mighta done wrong to a Witch I promised to mate. This was her revenge,” he growled, lifting his arms, causing more putrid stench to fill Michael’s sensitive nostrils.
“Ya learn to love it,” the psycho said, barking a laugh that ended with a growl.
“I sincerely doubt that,” he replied.
“Yeah, well, boy, I sincerely don’t give a rat’s ass. We gonna do this? I got a Pride to take,” the man said.
He barely nodded when the younger Shifter pulled the trigger. Pain exploded in Michael’s left shoulder, and he roared his fury while Waylon laughed and removed his shirt, but before he could launch himself at the wounded Healer, the rest of the Maverick Pride who’d accompanied him suddenly surrounded them.
“Hell, boy, you didn’t have to bring no backup,” Waylon snorted, then turned to address the rest of them.
“Lookee, here now, I’ll take this to the Council if all y’all interfere in this here business! I already got them to listen to my claim. Now, y’all just stay there while I finish goody-two shoes off.”
“STOP! You will stop these actions, Waylon Pitt,” Hunter said, and stepped forward.
He exuded Alpha strength, commanding the obedience of all present. This was a true Neta, and the difference between him and Waylon was only too obvious.
“You have attacked two of my own. You have kidnapped the claimed mate of our Pride Healer after unlawfully entering my territory without permission with the intent to kidnap her. Since she is one of my Pride, that is an offense punishable by death,” the Neta of the Maverick Pride growled.
He was menacing, with his bald head and rippling muscles. A huge mountain of a man, and one royally pissed off Tiger. He was almost as angry as Michael himself.
First things first, though, Michael was all about his mate. Before he could mete out justice to the two infiltrators, he turned his back on Hunter and Waylon as they growled and traded insults and accusations. To be honest, he didn’t give a fuck about the two Tigers’ differences.
Kylie was his only concern. She was struggling to stand, and he could hear her pulse racing, trying to rid her body of the poison.
“No, no, save your strength,” he said.
It should have stopped by now, but for some reason it still flowed an angry red. Then it hit him, the bastards laced the wounds with toxins. Shit. That would slow him down.
He followed her horrified gaze and saw the stain slowly spreading, bleeding through his shirt.
“It’s okay, these assholes poisoned the bullets and shot me, but it will wear off,” he said.
Tears rolled down her face, but Kylie still did not speak. She couldn’t. Michael’s heart tore a hole inside of him.
Only the most dishonorable of Shifters would do such a thing, but he did not want her to worry. He tried to brush it off. He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him.
“I am fine, Are you okay?” he asked as the men, one real Neta and one wannabe, continued to argue.
“Your Yankee claims are false! I am her real Neta. She is my Pride, and was promised to me by her mother,” bellowed the man Michael was about to kill.
He turned and shielded Kylie with his body, growling at the asshole. His Tiger did not blink at the thought. Healers knew death. It was a part of life, and Michael was a Shifter. He was a hunter, a predator, a lethal killing machine and his honor, and his mate had been wounded.
Yes, he wanted the fucker dead.
The Healer in him valued life. That was the truth. But this foul-smelling piece of shit had threatened his mate. He had no qualms about what he was going to do.
“M-Michael—p-poison,” she whispered, and he turned around to see her eyes fill with tears.
“I’m okay, you will be too, I swear it,” he vowed.
“Help me,” she asked, and he did, signaling the women over.
Jessica and Pamela rushed to flank her sides and thank goodness, Gretchen held Elissa back. Hunter glanced at his mate first, then at the younger male still standing too close, holding the gun he’d shot him with. The Tiger yelped, dropping the weapon, and stood with his hands raised.
“You gonna drop that gun when your Neta is depending on you, boy,” Waylon yelled at the man, whose eyes were now glued to the floor.
“You are no Neta. In fact, your pitiful attempt to steal the leadership of the Sharp Claw Pride has been reported to the Council. They have already sent an envoy to dispel your corrupt brethren and to ensure the safety of the rest of the Pride.”
“But, but you can’t do that,” Waylon Pitt tugged his beard and spit on the ground.
“I have done that. Now you will answer to me for the misdeeds you have committed to my Pride. Michael Turner?”
He heard his name but needed to make sure Kylie was okay, kissing her once on the mouth and pressing his head to hers before facing his Neta. He forced himself to ignore her weakened whimper, adding it to the many reasons why he was going to nail this sonovabitch to the wall.
“Yes, Neta,” he answered his Alpha.
“Do you wish to seek justice for the crimes against your mate?”
“I do.”
“No, Michael, he’s not worth it,” said Kylie in a stronger voice than she’d previously produced.
“Kylie McNaughton-Turner, it is your mate’s right to answer these crimes and as this person is claiming you belong to his Pride, it is the law. Either this gets met out today, or you could be forced by the Council to return to the Sharp Claw Pride until the details can be worked out.” Hunter’s voice was still laced with his power, but there was no mistaking the anger in his tone.
The Council could be such a bunch of shitheads.
Michael knew his Neta had been dealing with them when they’d been driving in the van, searching for his mate. He knew something drastic would have to be done.
“If I may have one moment, Neta, to say goodbye to my mate?”
“Better say goodbye, cub, I’ll be spreading her thighs before the sun sets,” Waylon grunted so only Michael could hear.
The rest of the Pride waited until Hunter nodded. They spread out, forming a circle as best they could in the graveled lot. They’d rounded the corner despite the angry mutterings of their Nari, who was adamant she did not want this to happen.
Mikey felt for her. After all, she was his patient and his Alpha fem. Pregnancy made even the most docile females hormonal at times. He did not like upsetting her, but nothing could stop him from defending his mate. He needed to end the threat, here and now.
They were far enough away from the road so as no passers-by could see. The noise from the gas station would help cover the sound of the fight. Luckily, it was run by a Gorilla Shifter and his family. Under the circumstances, secrecy was necessary.
Yes, Hunter could pass this off as a legitimate fight, but he might still get crap from the Council. They liked to stick their noses in after the fact.
“Michael, please, you have to understand, he is not honorable. You could get hurt,” Kylie grabbed his shirt and pulled herself into a standing position out of the other two ladies’ hands.
They turned their heads but lingered near in case she needed them. He was grateful for that, even for their pretending not to listen. Not like they could help it with their supernaturally enhanced hearing capabilities.
“Mon petit chaton,” he whispered to her in the French his grandmother had taught to him when he was just a boy.
“What’s it mean?” she whispered.
“It means my little kitten and that, my love, you most definitely are. A tiny little thing, but a fierce she-Tiger all the same. And mine, Kylie. Most of all, you are mine.”
“Michael, I don’t want you hurt, just let me go with him and maybe the Council⁠—”
“Never,” he growled, teeth bursting from his gums, eyes wild. “Mine.”
Kylie’s face softened, and she ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, soothing his Tiger.
“I know, mate. I only meant let me talk to the Neta. I know I am yours, Michael. I want to be yours forever. And you are mine,” she told him, clinging to him, and claiming his lips so sweetly he almost caved, but he knew he couldn’t.
“I’ll be okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I have to do this so you can be free. Leave or stay, you have to choose Kylie. It wasn’t right for me to take away your choice. This is the only way I can give it back to you,” Michael told her, gasping at the end.
His breathing was growing difficult as the poison worked its way through his blood. The gunshot wound still bled, but this was his fight. He thought of all the possibilities, but he knew this was the only way he could give her the chance she deserved to choose her life for herself.
“I don’t understand—” Kylie’s celery green eyes questioned him, and he could see her struggling to recover from the drugs she’d been given.
“Someone, give her water! It will help her metabolize the toxins,” he barked out the rough command.
“Kylie, know this, I love you so much, more than anything in the world.”
“Then why set me free?”
“Baby, I never want you to leave me. Nothing could be farther from what I want, but I know I bullied my way into your life and that wasn’t fair. I should’ve wooed you. Should’ve made you fall in love with me, the way I fell for you. Naturally. I shouldn’t have just announced it in the middle of Hunter’s office. I was an ass.”
“Well, then you were my ass,” she said, and her lower lip wobbled. “Please, don’t fight him.”
“I have to. The choice to stay with me needs to be yours. Fated or not. You will get to decide your future once I finish this. Just know that whatever you decide, I love you.”
The poison was slowing down Michael’s reflexes, but he had one thing Waylon didn’t, and that was Kylie’s best interest at heart.
She was his breath, his body, his very soul. Michael could not live without any of those, and he would never give her up to this piece of shit.