His Purrfect Mate

Dane Sidorov sagged against the tree’s thick trunk. Blood poured from his arm, running to the frozen ground.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Much more of this and a wet-behind-the-ears kid will be able to track me.”

Reaching into the medpack he carried velcroed to his uniform, Dane grabbed some bandages and a suture kit. Gritting his teeth, he sewed up the wound, tied it off before biting through the string, and wrapping it with the gauze. Tugging down his shirt sleeve he shoved his arm back into his white parka. Sure, he didn’t need to do it this way, but…well, it better...safer.

The bitter cold of the air told him he still lived, even if he didn’t really feel that way. His ears picked up on incoming choppers. Four of them. No doubt filled with men who’d kill him without hesitation. Dane didn’t fault them for that. It was their job.

Just like it’s mine to keep that very thing from happening.

“Crypt. Where are you?” the question rang in his ear.

Despite the pain in his arm which actually was more of an annoyance than anything, he smiled at Demon’s voice. “Fell down a rabbit hole. Have to follow my nose.”

“Status?”

Glancing through the night at his injured arm, Dane replied, “I’m good. Will meet at the rendezvous site.”

“See you there.”

Silence reigned and he scanned up at the night sky again. Closer. They are much closer now. The choppers had grown louder. Skimming his tongue over his teeth, he began to run. Each step he took put more distance between him and the enemy. The urge to stay and finish what they’d started swamped him and for a few seconds he stopped and hesitated, staring back in the direction he’d come. Until duty overtook personal longings. With a sigh, Dane moved out. He moved slower and more cautiously the closer he got to the extraction point. The hair on the back of his neck prickled with warning. In less than a second, he’d dropped to the ground, all senses straining to find the danger.

“Slim,” he said getting in contact with the head of the unit.

“Go ahead, Crypt.”

“Something’s off.”

“Chopper’s here. We leave in two. Where are you?”

Dane shook his head. “It’s not right. Get out of there.” He moved toward the helo holding his friends. His unit.

“They’re coming, Crypt. We have to get going. Get your ass here now! That’s an order.”

“Get out!” Dane lunged to his feet and began to run toward the helicopter oblivious to the fact he totally exposed himself. “Get out of there!”

“We’re powering up. Either you’re here or we’re gonna have to meet you at the second rendezvous.”

The low whine of the chopper’s engine reached him. Dane moved faster calling on more speed. He burst from the tree line and headed for the bird. In the splinters of light he could make out the tense face of Doc.

Where’s Slim? He should be by the door. Dane couldn’t pick out his silhouette in the interior of the helo and he could see pretty well. Two more steps were all he took before the fiery blast engulfed the helicopter, lifted him off his own two feet, and knocked him back into the trees. He hit hard, the sturdiness of the old tree not giving an inch to his body.

Fragments of the helicopter rushed by him cutting through his parka and digging into his flesh. Dane didn’t have time to yell before darkness overtook him.

Voices reached him, stirring him further from the hold unconsciousness had upon him.

“I don’t know. He should be here. He was almost to the chopper when it blew. Hell, for all I know his body may have been incinerated as well.”

“Collect the rest of the wreckage.”

That voice rang familiar. Anger stirred and rose up within him. He could smell the gun oil and made out eleven separate heartbeats. Instinct took over and Dane lay in wait, blending in with nature, his gaze fixed on one man of the group. A man he had trusted with his life. He snarled silently, his razor-sharp fangs thirsty for blood. The traitor’s blood.

“Wreckage is gathered, sir. No bodies. Only some blood and prints.”

“Prints?” the man asked. “Boot?”

“No sir. Animal. Tiger. And it looks like a big one.”

A loud roar pierced the frozen night. Eleven heartbeats sped up. The scent of their fear permeated the cold air. A smell which served to feed his desire to kill. Kill them all.

“I think the tiger wants us out of his area.”

“Can’t we shoot it? Always wanted to bag me a tiger.”

“No! They’re very protective of the few remaining. It’s probably tagged and there would be a big investigation were it to be found dead or missing.”

“Damn. All that care of a dumb animal. And the people?”

“It was a Black Op. Never happened. Let’s go.”

As their chopper lifted off another roar sliced the air. One of anger, hate, and the promise of retribution and revenge. Tawny-green-gold eyes followed the path the helicopter flew and when it could no longer be seen they closed and the darkness came again.

Dane woke to pain. Intense, immense pain. On its heels followed anger, rage, and betrayal.

Give into the rage.

Shoving to his feet, Dane pushed at the darkness that never seemed far from consuming him—hungered to consume him—refusing to give in to its ever-close absorption of him. It took a moment, longer and longer each time his control was threatened, but he wrested it back under his restraint. Done, he took several deep breaths of the crisp Siberian air. Sinking against the trunk of the nearest tree, he fought back the waves of dizziness.

“It would be so easy to give in. Give in and heal myself.” Shaking his head, Dane swore, “I can do this.”

The lightheadedness passed and he slipped back through the trees to the spot of the explosion. As he stood upon the charred ground, he felt the land screaming in pain and Dane could feel the furls of anger beginning anew deep within. Clenching his fist, he stared up at the night sky.

“I will make them pay.”

Bile rushed up his throat. First he needed to heal. And that needed to be done rather quickly. In this weakened state the darkness would have an easier time of overtaking him. He needed to be sharp. Home.

“No! I can’t. I won’t.”

Risking his family was never going to happen. It was his job to ensure his siblings were safe. He was the oldest and would never willingly place them in danger. No matter how capable they were, and his siblings were very capable. And as risky as he was at the moment, unsure if he could continue to keep this darkness at bay, he wouldn't go home and risk his family and friends. Dane ignored his hurt, reinforced the barriers he’d erected to keep his pain just that, his, and vanished from sight as the heavily treed forest swallowed him up.