Chapter 3

I licked his hand again and snuggled my head against his wrist. My heart was breaking with every word. "The wilderness is better therapy for me than seeing some VA hack doctor. All he ever does is try more drugs. The drugs don't stop the nightmares, and I can't function in school when I am on them. This air, this scenery? It clears my head better than any drug." He scratched my ears and started to get up. "I have to return to the world, Raven, though I'd rather stay here with you. I hate being in classes, but I can't be a Ranger medic anymore. I need something I can make a living at, and disability isn't living for me." He looked down at me as he kicked the fire apart. "Time to break camp, Raven. You sit there and rest for a while. I got this."

Twenty minutes later, he had his backpack ready. He poured the rest of his canteen on the fire and made damn sure it was out.

I was whining at him the whole time. I didn't want him to leave, and I wasn't ready to walk out of here with him.

Fate had other plans for us, I guess. I heard a wolf howling in the distance. It was my father; he was looking for me. My brother howled next, but in a slightly different direction. It hurt like a bitch, but I howled in reply.

"Your friends, huh?" He walked over and gently stroked my neck. "That's good. I'll get out of the way. I'm glad I found you. You're a strange wolf, Raven, but I love you. Come and find me if you ever want to stop being a wild animal." He walked off and didn't look back, even as I whined and howled my grief. I panicked, realizing I didn't even know his name. I didn't know where he lived. I tried to get up and follow him, but the sharp pains in my chest stopped me. Soon he disappeared around the mountain, and I was all alone.

My family found me and carried me home to the Pack doctor. After surgery and a few weeks of rest, I was back to normal. Physically, I'd fully recovered, but I was far from well. My wolf pined for her mate, and I was going nuts, wondering where he was! His absence left a hole in my heart that I couldn't fill.

We didn't have many clues. My brother had tracked his scent to the trailhead where he'd parked his truck. After that, nothing.

My family fully supported my search for my mate. After all, he had saved my life and was my one chance at true happiness in this life. Family members ran the mountains every weekend until the heavy snow arrived, but we never caught his scent again. The longer it went on, the more distraught I became.

I started the fall semester a few weeks late due to my injuries. I asked to drop out and search for him full-time, but my parents insisted I stay with my class. Soon I was too busy with that for anything else. I could never forget him, though. He was my mate and my only chance at a moon-blessed life.

My room at home became the center of my detective work. I put every clue I could remember from his talks on my wall and hit the Internet for information. I knew he was a Ranger medic injured in an IED and suicide bomber attack in Afghanistan. In February, I struck paydirt in an old article from 2012 in the Denver Post.

"A terrorist attack on a Green Beret unit left nine soldiers dead and three injured in the mountains outside Kandahar. An Army spokesman said most of the soldiers lost were victims of an IED attack on their vehicle, soon followed by a suicide bomber attack. The Defense Department identified the soldiers killed in action as:

1LT Tom Coronado from Orlando, Florida

SFC Robert Prentice from Hannibal, Missouri

SSGT Don Frandel of Jacksonville, Florida

SSGT Juan Hernandez of San Antonio, Texas

SGT Ricardo Carduzzi of Frederick, Maryland

SGT Dave Kemp of Rochester, Minnesota

SGT Rufus Ray of Chicago, Illinois

SGT Hassan Mikbar of New York, New York

SGT Alberto Miller of Amarillo, Texas

Injured in the attack were SGT Marcus Mendez of Colorado Springs, Colorado, SSGT Charles Hicks of Los Alamos, New Mexico, and SGT Victor Hammond of Toledo, Ohio. The Air Force evacuated the injured soldiers to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany for treatment. All casualties were members of the Third Special Forces Group, headquartered in Fort Bragg, North Carolina."

There were no photos, but at least I had some names. I hit the jackpot on a search for Marcus Mendez. It was an article in Stars and Stripes.

"Green Beret Medic receives Bronze Star, Second Purple Heart in Ceremony

Sergeant Marcus Mendez received the awards in a ceremony while recovering from his injuries in Landstuhl, Germany. Brigadier General Matthew Moeller presented Sgt Mendez the award for conspicuous valor during a firefight in which he crawled to and tended a wounded soldier. Disregarding his safety and under constant enemy fire, Sgt Mendez removed the man from the battlefield and cared for him until a Medevac helicopter arrived. Sgt Mendez was injured during the engagement but refused treatment while caring for the severely injured soldier. General Moeller praised his honor and courage, stating that he was a credit to the Green Berets and the US Army. Sgt Mendez had previously received a Purple Heart for injuries sustained in that battle. His second Purple Heart was for Sgt Mendez's severe injuries in a recent suicide bomber attack. Sgt Mendez thanked those in attendance but said the real heroes in his unit never made it home. Sgt Mendez will be medically retired once recovered from his injuries."

Wow. My mate was a badass! A Green Beret, a fighter, AND a healer!

With a name and date, I thought I would find him quickly. That didn't happen. The trail went cold when he left the Army, almost like Marcus didn't want to be found. I couldn't find anything on him directly, so I went to F******k and Green Beret chat boards. I even contacted the listed family members of those killed in his unit and asked if he had been in contact. Over MLK weekend, I drove to Colorado Springs but couldn't locate any family there.

I did everything I could think of to find him. Finally, I found information linking Marcus to a college in Pocatello, Idaho. That was just a few hours away! I couldn't find an address for him on the Internet, though. I packed my bags and threw them in the passenger seat of my old Ford Ranger and headed south.

I knew the school wouldn't release his address, so I pretended to be a prospective student interested in their nursing program. I told them I'd lost my manufacturing job after Christmas and wanted a change. Even though it was the middle of the semester, I requested and received a tour. The ladies at the admissions office even invited me to audit some of the classes to see what I thought. So with that, I started popping in on nursing classes. On the third one I hit the jackpot.

I had just taken a seat in the back when Marcus walked in. He looked damn good; he had shaved and gotten a haircut since I last saw him. Marcus ignored them while limping over to his seat. He checked me out on the way, and I could see he liked what he saw. He couldn't miss my look.

It was the same look I get when Dad sets a medium-rare steak in front of me. I wanted to taste him, smell him, and devour him.

I smiled and flipped my long black hair over my shoulder. Marcus met my smile briefly, then looked away and sat down. He didn't show any further interest, and I noticed few of the people in class interacted with him. It probably was a combination of his age and injuries that kept people from approaching him. He just took his notes and occasionally asked questions.

I couldn't concentrate on anything else during class. The professor may as well have been the Swedish chef from the Muppets; I understood nothing she said. I was busy watching my man, studying every line, every emotion, every move. I tried not to make it obvious, but he still caught me staring a few times. He might mistake me for a stalker, but I couldn't look away. Hell, I WAS a stalker.

When the class ended, I made my way over to him. "Hi, I'm Rachel. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I'm sure I know you from somewhere, but I can't figure it out. Sorry I was staring."

He looked into my gray eyes. I saw the sadness in his eyes as he casually shut me down. "I'm sorry, Rachel, but I'm not ready to be anyone's friend. You should find someone capable of giving you the time and love you deserve. You're young and beautiful, so I'm sure that will be easy for you." With that, he turned and walked out.

I wasn't going to let him push me away.

I followed him from a distance as he went through the rest of his classes. My heart broke as I watched his lack of integration with the other students. Even among all these people, Marcus was alone. He ate lunch by himself in the corner of the cafeteria. Was he too old? Were his injuries putting them off, or was it his stellar personality? Whatever the reason, he sat with his nose in a book between classes. He spread bags and books over the table so no one would ask to sit there.

I watched with anger building in me at the looks he got from the younger students. The ones that just recoiled at his facial scars or his artificial leg weren't so bad. The ones that walked away while making fun of him? He didn't hear them, but with wolf hearing, I certainly could. It took every bit of self-control I possessed to stay seated. I wanted to chase them down and beat the living shit out of them.

The words he said to me on the mountain rang in my head. Marcus would never be at home here.

He was stuck on the outside, and he wasn't making any attempts to socialize. While he was in his last class, I found his beat-up truck in the handicapped spot. I moved my truck to a place where I could see him leave.

He was the last to leave the class, staying late to speak to his professor. I watched as he tossed his book bag in the seat and drove away, waiting a minute so I wouldn't follow too close. I followed him through the night as the rain began. He went outside city limits and turned down a back road.

He must have rented an apartment in this older house at the edge of a potato field. As I drove past, I watched him park next to a newer truck at the edge of the driveway.