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Chapter 5
Chase
Leaning against the worn timber of the hunting shack, I watch Madison move about the small space. Each graceful step she takes sends a ripple of conflicting emotions through me.
There is joy at having finally found her, my mate, and fear that I may push her away. My wolf prowls within.
He is eager and possessive, while my human side grapples with the weight of the responsibility. How do I know I can care for her properly? No home, no pack, no job!
Despite my conscious knowing that Ash and Isaiah aren’t doing anything to cross the line with Madison, my wolf growls every time I see either of them chatting with her. Every time I see her flash either of them one of her brilliant smiles.
“Madison, what did you think about the rabbit stew Chase made? It’s been a bit of a staple for us since we’ve been on the road.” Ash asks and I feel my stomach fluttering as my face flashes hot.
“I’ve never eaten Thumper before, but I’ve got to say, the stew was surprisingly pleasant. The wild onions are a nice touch.” She says with a little admiration.
Pride swells in my chest. That stew is nothing fancy or special, it was born out of necessity, but it felt good to know that Madison enjoys my cooking.
“Did you hear that, Chase?” Isaiah asks, “The wild onions are a nice touch.”
I roll my eyes. These two are always giving me shit about something or other.
“Isaiah, are you still planning on fishing for dinner tonight?” I ask, ignoring his probing.
“Yeah, I better get going,” the teasing smile drops off his face.
Madison catches my eye, and for a moment, we hold a silent conversation. I suddenly look away, unwilling to expose the maelstrom of emotions raging within me. The last thing I want is to scare her off with the intensity of what I feel.
Control, I remind myself sternly. She’s not a prize to be claimed; she’s an individual with her own things going on.
I find myself rather annoyed with my wolf these days and I don’t feel the urge to let him out. Who knows how that might affect my behavior after I shift back?
The hunting shack becomes a cocoon, sheltering us from the world outside. The days pass in a delicate dance of shared tasks and quiet moments.
Ash and Isaiah, perceptive as ever, seem to understand what I am going through. Thankfully neither of them makes me acknowledge it, not yet anyway.
The bruises that littered Madison’s smooth flesh have faded and are nearly healed. If I ever see her ex-boyfriend, I’ll show him how a real man handles business and he’ll never have the nerve to hurt Madison or any other woman ever again.
Protect her, my wolf urges. But don’t smother her, my human chimes in.
“Chase, what are you guys running away from?” Madison asks from a chair in the small sitting area while I get a fire going in the small wood fire stove.
“Hmm? What makes you think we are running away from something?” I ask.
She gestures around the hunting shack and smiles, “I guess I just assumed that if you weren’t you wouldn’t be living out here in a one room hunting shack sleeping on twin sized bunk beds. But my apologies, I appear to have been wrong.”
An involuntary laugh leaves my throat and fills the small room, Ash raises his head from the bunk bed where he is napping. Shooting me a quizzical look before dropping his head back down and turning over on his side with his back to Madison and me.
“I suppose I don’t necessarily think of it as running away from something. Rather I like to think of it as we are running toward a new life, a chance to start over and do things our own way.” I state.
“That’s vague but sort of hopeful in its own way,” she flashes me a smile that nearly melts my heart, I feel the urge to share my story with Madison.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare to tell her everything, maybe this will help her feel more comfortable opening up to me as well.
“My father, Brent, he’s the Alpha of the West Coast pack.” I start. “I was supposed to take over whenever he was ready to step down. But the truth is, he and I have always struggled with each other. Our clash isn’t just about pack dynamics; it’s a clash of ideologies.
I don’t want to live up to his expectations because I don’t see eye to eye with them. My father is staunchly hierarchical. To him, the wolf shifters are at the top, and he thinks lesser of any other shifter species.
He lets other shifters into the pack, but they are always subordinate; they are looked down upon and mistreated. You’ve met Isaiah… he’s one of my best friends. Am I supposed to think less of him because he shifts into a bear?
