A Dedicated Hunter

Myranda wasn't able to stop in time, and the delicate pads of her paws felt hot as they skidded through rocks, dirt, and pine cones.

As if he had planned on her presence, he had steeled himself so that when she did crash into him, he stood strong. However, no matter how much a still object wanted to stay that way, when it wasn't secured and hit by something that moved with such weight - it must go forward.

Which Metas did.

A loud whimpered cry broke the sky as silver metal burned into his leg, and caused a nasty scent of burned hair and skin to fill the air.

"Metas - are you okay?" She called out with worry that she didn't even bother to mask until after she thought about it, and followed up with a terse, "...I mean, I'm sorry I ran into you."

"It's okay, I'd rather be me than you," the Prince replied with his sturdy voice and thick, 'slavic' accent. "Someone set up a trap for our kind it seems. This was not here yesterday," he revealed and limped back from the sharp teeth that had only clamped the outer portion of his right hind leg.

Silver was as painful as iron was to the rest of the world's 'creatures'. While iron would still hurt a werewolf, it didn't kill them like it did the Fae, or even the Proteans. Silver, though? Someone was out to kill.

"Is that what I think it is?" She dared to ask him in fear of the real answer.

"Yes. Please just give me moment before we run again. I want to sit and see if I can heal quickly."

Metas gritted through his teeth with a strong voice, but as his mate, she could hear the pain deep behind his throat.

"You still want to run after this? Your back leg is seriously injured, are you mad? Sit," she commanded as he tried to move past her, and while Myranda did move so he could get a little bit away from the trap he had run into, she immediately used her head to nudge his side, which made him sit.

"Let me see your leg," she instructed again, and tiled her form over his to stop him from getting up again, and also to get a better look at the injury. He was so giant, though that she ended up laid over him rather than being able to stand.

"No, it's nothing. Is really nothing. I can have fixed when I get home, I just need rest," he insisted (unbeknownst to Myranda, he was trying /really/ hard to impress her with his pain tolerance).

"That isn't nothing - your flesh is turning grey already - that's a bad puncture. How long does it take you to heal?" She went on with her examination and scanned the hot wound that steamed in the cool morning air. It was one of the worst things she had ever seen. The blood had already coagulated around his ankle and the parts of his metatarsal that had been torn out.

"I'll be fine. I've had worse - but are you okay? The slide from the stop, did your pads get cut?" he wanted so badly to reach out to her, but from where her body was, it would only hurt him to try to get to her. "I heal fast, but I am not certain with silver, it hasn't happened before."

"Well, it doesn't look great - and I can't imagine it feels good. You don't have to act all tough if you need to howl, though. You're starting to quiver," she frowned and in instinct, leaned in and lapped at his open wound.

Myranda hadn't thought about her actions at all until she tasted the bitterness of his blood, and felt his soft fur run against her tender flesh.

What was terrible about the entire thing, was that she actually enjoyed soothing him, and enjoyed it even more when his breath went from soft huffs of pain to long ones of relief. To hear his agony lessened brought peace to her unlike she had ever felt.

Once more, she found herself torn between her stubborn beliefs and prospect of the joy one usually had when they found their bounded love. Now it was just set in stone for her from this point; he was her mate. Only those who were made for one another were able to heal the other's wounds so quickly here.

It was some odd evolution that had been passed from their more potent ancestors - it was one thing to heal a brother, or sister, or even a friend -- but mates could work miracles. Mates could bring back the other from the verge of death if their bond was powerful enough.

The way that Metas' skin closed and pinked over with new flesh only confirmed their already threaded bond.

"You...didn't have to do that, I know you're not my biggest fan," Metas mumbled to her with shame in his voice. He hadn't wanted her to have to do something so intimate for him when she had finally just agreed to give him the time of day, but he also appreciated each swipe of her tongue against his almost-restored leg.

She pulled her head up from her work and looked at him with a much softer expression than before, and spoke much sweeter to him than before, too. "Metas, you took a silver trap for me. You stood there, and just took my weight. Leaving you without treatment would have been disgusting and wrong. I'm not a monster." She briefly paused and spit out an admittance towards him that hurt her pride, "...and I guess you aren't one either."

The way she spoke to him made him smile and caused him to pant a bit with his tongue out.

His reaction made her heart race. His happiness was genuine and beamed out, so it was hard to deny it anymore (but she'd still manage to try even now, as Myranda was more stubborn than death itself).

"Thank you for saying that. Your opinion actually means a lot to me, which is why I wanted you to run with me so badly. Well, until now. I didn't realize I was putting you in danger. I'm sorry about that," he said tenderly and looked her full-on in her beautiful mis-matched eyes.

"Ah, well...y-you'll have to try a little harder to raise my opinion further, you know" she challenged him as she put that shield back up just as she had becomeg vulnerable to him.

"I look forward to that, because I will make you see that I am more than what you think of me currently, Myranda. I won't stop just because you're steadfast. You may be very cunning prey, but I am very dedicated hunter," he impunged with that velvet tone she started to love oh so much.

Had she been in her mortal form, she would had blushed too heavily to hide, but since she was able to conceal it, Myranda played off her reaction as though his words hadn't just entirely impressed, and enthralled her.

"I...." she paused and then replied with a 'matter of fact' tone, "...will allow you to do that. I hope you're fast and dedicated, Hunter" Myranda slid back his smoothness towards him like a chess piece and smiled triumphantly that she had regained control of her cool exterior.

"It is my deepest wish to show you exactly how devoted to you I am, my mate" he replied and slid the 'chess piece' right on back to her.

'Damn it! I wish my stomach hadn't fluttered so much when I heard him call me his mate...' she thought in a panic as her entire body tingled with delight from his words and their delivery. 'What am I doing? Why am I feeling so aroused?'

Myranda didn't know it - but Metas could hear her heart pound and quicken in speed in reaction to her rightful title being spoken.

He liked that she wasn't entirely closed off to him. Now the chase could amplify. The more fierce she was, the more in love he fell. She was everything he desired, and more. If she couldn't accept him, then he wouldn't be able to accept the throne. It was as simple as that.

He had to make her see the real him no matter how much hate he had to chip through.