My Cursed Mate's Revenge

Chapter 5: A Mate Abused

Present:

Ryder

The crack of her head hitting a rock echoes through the woods. I feel sick, the image of her eyes rolling back into her skull as she collapses plays over and over in my head as I carry her towards my camp.

I mindlink with Fang and Geralt, letting them know that I had finally found her and to have a fire going as soon as he can.

Her skin is still icy against mine, a blue tint creeping onto her full, red lips. A long, tangled braid of thick, black hair rests on her chest. I took a brief glance at her back to assess her injuries before moving her and the sight filled me with a white hot anger.

Stripes of flesh had been gouged from her skin. The pattern was too symmetrical, too strategic to have been caused by the weeks she has spent running back and forth across Anastrossi. I had prepared myself when I began this search to find a woman that was starving and half dead, but I had not expected this.

The wounds on her back are no less than two weeks old, telling me that she had been running for weeks while experiencing a level of pain which would have crippled most.

‘The heart of a true warrior. She is our mate, what did you expect?’

Maverick’s voice echoes through my mind as he looks at the woman in my arms. He sounds so confident, so certain of this bond.

I desperately want to believe him.

Believe she could be strong enough to love us, to save us, to banish the demons hiding in the darkness and leave us free to bask in her beautiful presence…and yet…

‘I don’t feel anything, Maverick. I can feel something there, like a word on the tip of my tongue. It’s so close and yet just out of reach.’

I whisper my confession, fearful that I might wake her, that holding the words in would stop Maverick from hearing what weighed on my heart, hoping he would contradict them and give me hope.

‘Mmmmhmm…you know why you cannot feel her.’

I hold her in my arms, rushing back to our camp and the medical kit I know wait for me there, and wishing with each step that I could be the mate she deserves. I wished with all that remained of my cold, black heart, knowing it wouldn’t matter, that it was too late.

—

We break through the trees and make it into the rocky clearing holding our supplies. A small creek that ends in a pond provides a barrier, as well as a water source for our camp, while the tents are set up against the cliff, keeping the wall of rock at our back.

The space was strategically chosen, giving us easy access to our needs and reliable protection in case one of the Warped appeared, and had become one of our favorite resting places we had found in recent days.

Geralt has built a second fire, slightly away from our cook fire in the center of our camp, and is busy boiling water and rags.. He looks up as we approach, and gestures at the bedding he has already laid out.

“I assumed we’d need to act quickly and didn’t want to risk our fire…spilled water and all that,” he says as he opens his medical kit and begins laying out supplies before removing the boiled rags to cool.

His motions are precise and practiced, speaking to the years he’s spent as a Ranger, exploring every inch of Anastrossi and battling whatever creatures he and Fang could find along the way. He gestures again to the blankets he has laid down when I hesitate.

“I can’t…her back..” I choke on the words, grateful when he understands and comes to help lay her down on her stomach.

He makes quick work of removing her shirt, slicing it open to reveal the full extent of her mutilated back. I feel Maverick seething with anger at the sight, so extensive that they cause even a seasoned medic like Geralt to pause. He recovers quickly and cuts the sleeves of her shirt, pulling it off her while noting her injuries aloud.

He and Fang held many conversations like this, claiming it helped them to ‘think out loud’, but I would have preferred they keep some of these observations to themselves. Maverick grows more enraged with every injury they discuss, tinting my vision red and coating my tongue with the metallic taste of his anger.

“Broken wrist, looks like it was briefly set at one point…yes, you’re right, definitely will need to be reset…no, I think we should remove this wrap first, I can see the fibers are woven in with many of the scabs, she’ll lose more blood if we wait to take it off. We can always re-break the wrist later, but she could die if her back isn’t addressed first..”

The band he spoke of wrapped around her chest, the fabric meant to support her breasts but instead was now covering a particularly nasty patch of scabs on her back. His knife slices through the fabric on her side and he slowly peels the edges away. While his efforts are gentle, her face begins to show signs of discomfort.

One section resists his efforts, forcing him to pull a little harder. Blood begins pouring down her back, and a groan of pain escaping her lips. Before I know what is happening, Maverick has taken over.

He swats at Geralt, who rolls away and brings his hands up slowly.

“Mav, I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled so hard, I’ll cut the rest of the fabric away and leave the stuck parts, no more scabs pulled off. She’ll be fine, I swear. Look, her back already stopped bleeding. It’s ok.”

His tone is steady and calm, as if speaking to an injured animal that still hasn’t decided if it should trust him or not. Maverick lets loose a growl, before mindlinking with him.

‘For every drop of my mate’s blood you spill with a stupid or reckless action, I will take two drops from you. Think again before you move carelessly…’

Geralt nods, completely ignoring Maverick’s mating claim in favor of returning to his work. He moves back to her side, returning to his commentary but this time, he is sure to include information for Maverick and I’s benefit.

“She heals quickly. Not at a normal wolf pace, but an acceptable enough rate for what we need. Some infection has set in to the deeper wounds in her back, those will need to be drained, cleaned, possibly stitched up to make sure no more infection is introduced…”

He continues speaking as he works, the hushed tones and methodical care soothing enough that I feel Maverick begin to settle down.

‘Will you need Ryder’s hands or can I be of service?’

I can feel the remorse in his words, a peace offering to Geralt instead of an apology for his overreaction.

“I am low on crushed Queen’s Lace, we’ll need that to make a poultice for the stitches- it protects from infection. I can also use it to make tea. It will keep her knocked out while we work, help her not feel any pain. I think I saw some across the stream as I was coming back.”

He nods with his chin, his hands busy gently cleaning her wounds. Maverick and I cannot help but cringe at the sight of all the dirt and debris that has collected over the weeks.

‘We should stay. She is our mate, we are perfectly capable of cleaning her wounds. He should go…’

‘He has more experience and medical training than us. We can trust Geralt and Fang to protect her while we go. Besides, we would be too worried of hurting her to do what must be done. We can bring her back an entire field's worth of Queen’s Lace, she will need as much as we can gather to heal properly.’

Satisfied with my logic, Maverick nods his head at Geralt and inquires how much we need and what parts of the flower need to be intact for the best results.

“The head of the flower is the most important piece. The more pollen, the better. Petals will help with the taste of the tea, and the juices of the stem can help the poultice stick to her wounds and make a stronger barrier for more protection. Pulling from the roots is best, a bundle will be more than enough to treat her now. We can get more as needed.”

He has hardly finished his instructions before I have shifted back, grabbing a thick blanket, rope, and emptying my shift-pack. I stuff the rope and blanket into the pack and put it on before shifting back.

Our packs and fighting leathers were built specifically for every Night Stalker member. While the Night Stalkers are not a nomadic pack, we are warriors, explorers, adventuring out into the island and beyond- often alone.

To protect our more vulnerable human flesh while traveling and training, and ensure we still had clothes available after any surprise fighting was done, we needed something that wouldn’t rip apart into useless pieces at the first appearance of our wolves.

A stroke of genius and several cleverly placed knots allows our leathers to come apart during a shift and easily tie back together when in our two legged-forms. The packs can be filled and worn in our human forms and will adjust to fit our wolf forms. There are even ties that allow the pack to connect with our leathers, to reduce having to replace any that are lost.

I decide to leave my leathers behind, as Maverick will be doing most of the work today. In an easy leap, he clears the stream bordering our camp and takes off in search of Queen’s Lace.

‘Will she be ok? Her back…there was so much blood.’

‘I know.’

‘Ryder. I know your heart is heavy. I know what troubles you and I know what desires you chase. But our mate…a love like that, we can not give her up.’

‘I told you, I don’t feel it. I can’t lose something I don’t have. If she is truly our destined mate, then she better than anyone will understand our heart and our actions. Besides, we may not have a choice in the matter.’

He growls at the obvious dismissal, and conjures up the memory of the moment I saw her pull herself from the river. She had landed before me, soaking wet, filthy, exhausted…and utterly, breath-takingly beautiful.

‘Of course I am attracted to her, that is not what we are discussing. I want to help her heal, I wish her no ill will, but I do not feel this earth-shattering, life-altering bond you claim she is for us. Her presence changes nothing, these feelings and attractions change nothing. We will not discuss this further, there are more pressing matters to address now.’

I feel his frustrated acceptance and his focus shift back to the task at hand. Our discussion has allowed several leagues to melt away, carrying us to a space where the mountains meet a river, the best location to find an abundance of Queen’s Lace.

Shifting, I drop my pack and lay out the rope and blanket. Working quickly, I pull handfuls of the flowers, root and all, and place them gently on the blanket.

A sizable amount gathered, I fold the blanket carefully around the flowers and tie my folds together with the rope. I then return to the remaining field of flowers, placing the handfuls in my pack.

The remaining bit of rope ties the blanket and pack together. Maverick shifts forward once the pack and bundle is in place on my back and runs a few yards to test that nothing slips. Satisfied, he follows our trail and scent back to camp.

—

Maverick leaps the stream and shifts, my feet continuing our run forward while I remove the pack and begin preparing the Queen’s Lace. While I have not received the same level of training as Geralt and the other Rangers of the Night Stalker pack, my position requires that I have enough passable knowledge in all the roles and positions within our pack.

After my work is done, I move back to where Geralt is finishing his work on Freya. Her back is covered in stitches and fresh bandages, and a bowl of a foul smelling mixture is nearby. Geralt sees the direction of my stare.

“Fang and I thought it may help our efforts if you and Maverick found yourself occupied elsewhere for some of the more…difficult parts. We’ve cleaned the wounds, removed traces of infection, placed stitches in the more severe areas, and have applied the Queen’s Lace. She needed more than we originally anticapated and I suspect she will welcome the tea when she wakes, so it is good you gathered such an…enthusiastic amount.”

His lip curls in the corner at the end of his statement, the only sign from the sometimes serious medic that he is attempting a joke.

I snort and roll my eyes, asking, “What else needs to be done?”

“She’s been through an ordeal, we should let her rest for now. I’ve started dinner and a broth, let’s wake her in a few hours and try to-”

Her eyes snap open, her hand closes around her pack we had discarded nearby as she rolls away from us. A second after her eyes are opened, she is on her feet with a dagger in hand, her grip showing a level of comfort that can only be gained after years of hard work and training.

The movements are so quick and practiced, as if she had been awake while Geralt worked on her, preparing for the moment he was finished to make her move.

‘A true warrior…’ Maverick whispers to me, the pride shining clearly through each word.

“You will let me leave. You will not follow me. Give me your word, or I will gut you both where you stand.”

Her voice is beautiful. Her serious tone and stern expression make me smile, and I fight the urge to tease her immediately, to crack a horribly unfunny joke and see her roll her eyes as she fights the smirk that I know would grow on her face. Maverick urges me to listen, to follow my instincts, to bond with my mate, our mate.

“Well, technically princess, we’re sitting so…”

“What is it about my face or tone that tells you that I am in the mood for jokes? Tell me now so I can change it immediately. I do not have time for you, your bad jokes, or any other nonsense you plan to participate in.”

Her words do nothing to cool the lust growing in my veins. I find my gaze torn from her captivating eyes, a deep blue as if someone had stolen the sky at dusk and poured them into her irises, with the sudden realization that her chest is now bare.

My head whips towards Geralt to find a stunned look on his face. He has clearly not been held captive by her eyes, but instead the exposed pale skin and soft curves. Possessive rage like I have never felt before rips through me, a growl echoing through our camp.

“Leave.”

The command leaves my mouth before I can stop it, and a twinge of regret follows as Geralt’s head snaps towards me. A quick nod is all I get before he stands and runs towards the woods, where I know he will remain until I mindlink him and command his return.

I turn back to the half-naked goddess that stands before me, the smile returning to my face as I take in every inch of her exposed skin.

It was finally time for me to be alone with my mate.