Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Amanda

T he early morning mist clung to the trees as Amanda trudged through the dense underbrush, her breath puffing out in small clouds. The forest was quiet; the only sounds were the crunch of her boots breaking through the icy crust that covered everything and the distant call of a raven. She was focused on the task at hand—helping one of the rangers track down a wounded animal that had been spotted by a hiker the previous day.

Randy was a seasoned park ranger and someone with whom she'd worked many times. He was walking several paces ahead, his eyes scanning the ground for tracks. Amanda was grateful for something else to do outside of her quiet practice. It allowed her to ignore the building tension between her and Rance since his warning about Donald Albright. She understood his concerns, but she refused to let fear dictate her every move. She had things to do, a life to live, and regardless of her feelings for Rance, she wasn't about to let anyone dictate what she could and couldn't do.

Stopping suddenly, Randy crouched down to inspect a set of tracks half-hidden in the snow. "Looks like it's heading east," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Shouldn't be far now."

Amanda nodded, stepping closer to get a better look. There was a small blood trail, and the tracks were fresh, the edges sharp in the snow. The animal was close, and it was hurt. She could sense its distress, a faint echo of pain that resonated within her.

Just as Randy stood, he turned to look behind them. Amanda could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to see Rance emerging from the trees, his expression thunderous. Her heart skipped a beat, both from the surprise of seeing him and the intensity in his eyes.

"Rance," she began, but he didn't give her a chance to say more.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Randy?" Rance snapped, his voice rough with barely restrained anger. "Taking her out here like this? She's a vet, not a park ranger."

Randy straightened, his eyes narrowing as he met Rance's gaze. "She's more than capable, Rance. We've done this plenty of times before."

"This isn't about capability," Rance growled, stepping closer. "It's about common sense. There's a hunter out here, and you're putting her at risk by dragging her into the wilderness."

Randy's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Amanda stepped between them, turning towards him, "I don't need you to defend me, and you," she said turning back to Rance, "do not get to tell me what to do. I'm right here, and I can make my own decisions. I don't need either of you deciding what's best for me."

Rance's gaze snapped to her, the fire in his eyes not dimming in the least. "This isn't a game, Amanda. Albright could be out here. He's dangerous, and you still chose to come out here?"

Amanda felt her own temper flare at his words, the frustration that had been simmering for days finally boiling over. "I am not going to let you or fear of some jerk stop me from doing my job. I have a contract with the state to help in situations like this, not to mention a moral responsibility to alleviate an animal's suffering. I'm not helpless."

Randy glanced between them, sensing the tension and clearly deciding he didn't want to be in the middle of it. "This sounds like something you two need to figure out. I'm going to head back and give you two some space. Amanda, if I've caused you any trouble, I'm sorry. I'll keep tracking the animal. If I find it, I can put it down."

Amanda barely acknowledged his words, her focus entirely on Rance. "Well, that's nice, Rance. Instead of my being able to tranq some poor dying animal and end its suffering peacefully, Randy has to track it down and shoot it. And what about Albright? Isn't he pretty much after shifters in general?"

"Randy is capable of looking after himself."

"Hot news flash. So am I."

Rance didn't back down, his expression hard. "You're not thinking clearly, Amanda. Albright's out there, and you're walking right into danger."

"You don't know that. I get that you feel responsible because you turned me…"

"It's more than that, and you know it."

"Do I think there's more between us than that? Probably. But I'm not your responsibility," she snapped, her voice rising with anger. "Regardless of what is or isn't between us, the only person who gets to make decisions about my life is me."

Rance's eyes darkened, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You're my mate, Amanda. That means I protect you whether you like it or not."

The word "mate" hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Amanda's heart pounded, but she refused to back down. "I didn't ask for this, Rance. You don't own me."

With that, she turned on her heel, intending to march back the way they'd come, but Rance moved faster. He grabbed her arm, preventing her from leaving.

"Let go of me," she hissed, trying to yank her arm free.

Rance didn't release her. "No."

Fury ignited in her chest, and she swung at him, her fist aiming for his face. Rance anticipated her move, catching her wrist in midair. Using her momentum against her, he spun her around, trapping her against his chest. Before she could even register what was happening, he turned her back, lifted her off the ground, and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing.

"Rance, put me down!" she shouted, pounding her fists against his back. "This is ridiculous!"

Ignoring her protests, Rance carried her to his truck, his grip firm and unyielding. He opened the passenger door and unceremoniously dumped her onto the seat. Amanda scrambled to right herself, her anger flaring hotter than ever.

"This isn't over," she warned, her voice low and dangerous.

Rance slammed the door shut, his expression hard as steel. "We'll talk about it back at the station."

The drive was tense, silence filling the cab of the truck. Amanda seethed; her hands clenched into fists as she tried to calm herself. But the closer they got to the ranger station, the more her anger simmered, until it was a boiling cauldron threatening to spill over.

When they finally arrived, Rance got out and walked around to open her door, but Amanda was out before he could reach it. She tried to march away, but he blocked her path, his stance firm.

"Move," she demanded, her voice shaking with fury.

Rance didn't budge. "Not until we've talked."

"I don't want to talk!" she shouted, frustration clawing at her insides. She couldn't stand the feeling of being controlled, of having her decisions questioned. Without thinking, she stomped on his foot, hard.

Rance grunted, more in surprise than pain, but Amanda wasn't done. She followed up with a swift kick to his shin, her frustration boiling over into physical action. His eyes flashed with something dark and primal, and before she could react, he grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and pinning her against the side of the truck. His body pressed against hers, trapping her between the cold metal and the heat of his anger.

"Stop," he growled, his voice low and rough. "You're going to get yourself hurt."

Amanda glared up at him, refusing to back down despite the precariousness of her position. "I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be coddled, Rance. You can't just throw me around like I'm one of your park duties."

His grip on her shoulders tightened, but there was something else in his eyes now—something that sent a shiver down her spine. "You're not fragile, Amanda. You're strong, and that's what makes this so damn difficult. But I can't—won't—let you just ignore the danger a hunter like Albright represents."

She could feel his breath on her face, their proximity too close, too intense. The heat between them was palpable, the anger in her veins mixing with something else, something darker and more consuming.

"Then stop treating me like I can't handle myself," she shot back, her voice trembling with both fury and something deeper, something that scared her.

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down. But as the seconds ticked by, Amanda's anger began to ebb, replaced by the intensity of Rance's gaze. The tension between them shifted, morphing into something else entirely.

"Fuck off, Rance," she growled.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the words hung in the air between them. Amanda half-expected the ground to open up and swallow her whole, but instead, she stood there, chest heaving, waiting for his reaction.

He blinked, his features flickering from confusion to rage so quickly she almost didn't catch the shift. Her heart hammered against her ribs, bracing for the storm she sensed was about to break. Grasping her arms, Rance yanked her toward him, his lips crashing against hers, an act so startling that, for a moment, her mind blanked of everything but the feel of his body and the heat and arousal that were rolling off him.

A sharp electric buzz jolted through her, leaving her senses reeling. There was something about this man that drew her to him like no other. He could be the biggest jerk, and yet he could kiss her with a hunger so intense that it scorched all rational thought. Her body responded of its own accord, melting into his embrace like ice on a hot stove—the taste of him, the feel of his arms, firm and demanding, sparking a fire she could never have anticipated. Amanda kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck as her body pressed tighter to his.

Groaning in what sounded like a combination of surrender and need, he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her into the station. Closing the door and setting her down, he spun her around, pushing her forward and pressing her front against the wall. His hands came up under her sweater, pushing her bra aside so he could fondle her breasts, his lips hot against her cheek. Amanda moaned, a primal sound that seemed to come from someone else entirely.

Rance's tongue flicked out, touched the edge of her lip as his hands moved to shove down her leggings and panties. "This is not a good idea."

"It's the best idea you've had all day," she murmured, reveling not only in the physical response he was evoking but at his seeming loss of control. She felt wicked and wanton, and she loved it.

"Not good." The words came out as a protest, but he didn't stop.

Amanda didn't want him to stop as his hand slipped between her legs so his fingers could toy at her entrance. Amanda had never indulged in any kind of fantasies about being forced, but then she'd never had a man who could get her so aroused so quickly. His fingers stroked her, teasing even more moisture from her core. She wanted to speak, to tell him to stop, but deep down, she knew she wanted even more from him.

"I can't sleep at night unless you're next to me. In my dreams you're there, tempting me, taunting me. It's like I can't resist you. I don't give in to these kinds of feral needs and feelings."

"Shut up and fuck me, Rance," she snarled in frustration.

He had the ability to get her all hot and bothered with very little trouble. The moment she spoke, his fingers sank into her, hard and long, but not quite what she had in mind. He pistoned his fingers inside her until her hips started to respond, moving in the same rhythm as his fingers, her body giving into what her mind didn't want. Or did it?

"Are you sure, Amanda? Because if I fuck you again, there's really no going back," Rance whispered harshly, his fingers working her, hitting just the right spot to make her nipples go hard and her back to arch toward him.

She hesitated, not because she didn't understand the repercussions as she and Eva had talked about it. Not even because she didn't believe they were fated mates, but because she didn't want to feel as though she'd given in—that she had lost, and he had won. But she was so close to coming on his fingers, that she didn't want him to stop. In that moment, she needed that orgasm more than she'd ever needed anything.

"Yes," she moaned, covering his hand with her own.

Amanda gasped as the orgasm exploded deep inside her, sending pleasure straight up into her brain as she shook in his arms. It was as though admitting she wanted him had released the energy building within her and she gasped his name, begging for more.

Rance waited, but she could hear the satisfied groans he made. She felt the way he pressed his cock into her ass as he pulled his fingers from her. She closed her eyes as he pulled back just enough to undo his jeans. Amanda didn't protest when he pulled her hips towards him just enough to place his hard tip against her opening.

The moment he entered her, her world seemed to narrow to just the raw intensity between them. It was madness; this need to match his desperation with her own, to take whatever he offered and give back just as fiercely. She pushed back against him, seeking more, each movement igniting sparks that danced beneath her skin, coursing through her veins.

"You're too beautiful for your own good," he said, his breath hot against her neck. His hands were unyielding on her hips, keeping her pinned to the wall.

"Too stubborn." A grunt punctuated his next thrust, and Amanda could feel the vibration of it echo through her. "Maybe now you'll shut up and listen."

"Don't count on it," she shot back, half breathless, but her voice was lost under the sound of his movements and her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

His other hand, the one that didn't have a death grip on her hip slipped between her legs and over her clit. The sensation was unexpected, intense, and sent a fresh surge of arousal through her system. Every touch was amplified as each of his thrusts teased her closer to the edge.

"Please," she begged as she writhed against him, her face pressing into the cool, impersonal wall, feeling the rough texture against her cheek.

Rance pulled her hips back, angling in a different way to get deeper, and Amanda nearly collapsed from the intensity of the pleasure. She could hear his breathing, ragged and heavy, each exhale like a whisper of the storm raging within them.

And then it happened. All at once, like a dam bursting, her entire body tensed, then quivered in his arms. For a few blinding moments, there was nothing else in the world but Rance and the overwhelming sensations crashing over and through her.

Rance's grip on her hip was like an iron vice, relentless as he pushed her harder against the wall. The cool surface was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. His movements grew more urgent, desperate even, as if he were trying to prove something, or perhaps lose himself completely.

"Amanda," he growled low in her ear, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. She could feel him shaking; the tremors that ran through his body now echoed in hers. And then, with a final thrust, he groaned into her hair, his breath hot and ragged, his release pulsing deep within her.

As he pulled away, there was a rawness between them, something that went beyond physical satisfaction. He helped her make some sense of her rumpled clothing with the same hands that had just been locked around her with such intensity. His touch lingered for a fraction too long, betraying a hesitation that didn't fit with the man who always seemed so in control.

"This isn't over," he muttered, almost to himself, as he stepped away, almost as if he were surprised by what had just taken place and his own words.

There was a flash of something in his eyes, anger, desire, maybe both, as he looked at her. Did he truly want any of this or was it just something he felt had been forced upon him? As for herself, did she want any of this? Or did she just want him? And did she have a choice in either?