Page 6 of His Rescued Mate

Maybe, but doubtful.

Naked, Max stepped out and within the confines of the outdoor shower, he called forth his wolf, relinquishing his physical hold on his humanity. A maelstrom of lightning, thunder and color swirled all around him. The mist churned in spinning spirals with Max at its center, starting at the ground and then swirling up around him. His wolf charged forward, ready to run.

Max bounded off the deck onto the cold, almost completely frozen ground, galloping towards the trees. The need to howl was riding him hard. He wanted to put enough distance between himself and his cabin to keep Alexa from feeling threatened or frightened.

He headed into the trees, where snow was still present and would be for months. In his human form, he could not have survived in the harsh Alaskan wilderness. The chilly air filled his lungs and allowed him to stretch out into a full run. He jumped fallen trees and boulders on his way to a rocky promontory overlooking the lake. Lifting his muzzle to the moon, Max howled in the same way wolves had been doing since time immemorial.

* * *

The long, mournful howl of a lone wolf wafted along the chilly breeze and seemed to fill her with a feeling of both foreboding and sensual need. Alexa wondered why this wolf’s song resonated so deeply within her. She’d heard wolves howl before—lots of times. But there was something about this one that haunted her and awakened a feral side of her she hadn’t known or experienced before.

“Good night, sweet prince. May the night keep and protect you,” she whispered to the wind as she closed the window in her bedroom.

Removing her clothes, she grabbed the t-shirt she slept in and crawled into bed. The room should have been cold, especially the floors, but it wasn’t. She wanted to try and remember to ask Max about that in the morning. She also wanted to know if he’d heard the wolf and if he knew whether or not it had a pack to whom it belonged.

The following morning, Alexa woke early, eager to explore more of the vast wilderness that lay beyond Max’s cabin. She had dreamed of running along the shoreline, up into the forests and through the shale-covered mountains. Curiously, she hadn’t seen herself as a human. She had run as a she-wolf, and she had run beside the great beast she was sure she had heard the night before.

Dressing in her outdoor gear, she exited her room and found Max already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, making her stomach growl in anticipation.

"Good morning," she greeted him with a smile. God, he was truly beautiful. "That smells amazing."

"Morning," Max replied, glancing over his shoulder and returning her smile. "I hope you like fresh-caught rainbow trout hash."

“I don’t know that I’ve ever had rainbow trout hash, but I love trout, and I love hash, so I’m sure it’s going to be great. Sounds like the perfect way to start my day. Did you hear the wolf last night?”

Alexa wasn’t sure, but she could almost swear Max’s whole body had tensed up, but when she looked again, he was completely relaxed. He nodded as he finished the hash, divided it between two plates, and then added what smelled like fresh cornbread.

“We have wolves here on Kodiak. Not as plentiful as they once were and they’re pretty reclusive, but we do see them occasionally.”

“I only heard one wolf. He sounded kind of mournful and lonely.”

“That’s interesting. I thought he sounded alone, but as if he had found his mate and was courting her.”

Alexa laughed. “And that’s why I’m a journalist, and you’re an artist.”

“I’m just a wood carver,” he said, setting the plate down in front of her.

“No Max, you’re not. You are a true artist. I’ve never seen anything of yours that I didn’t just love. Each piece has a way of speaking to those who are viewing it.”

“Now, who’s the romantic?” he chuckled. “Since you traveled all day yesterday, I thought we’d stick close to the lake. I have a nice canoe, and we can use it to get to various egresses and do some easy, minimal elevation gain hikes.”

“That sounds good.”

As they ate, Max told her about some of the best trails and scenic spots on the island and gave her a kind of itinerary for her stay, emphasizing that she could and should make any changes she wanted. Alexa listened intently, eager to see everything Kodiak had to offer.

After breakfast, they set out together, Max leading the way down to the lake, where they took out probably the most beautiful canoe she’d ever seen and moved across the mirror-like water with the same grace and skill that a swan would. They picked their way over some rocky ground, with Max taking her hand to steady her.

The beauty of the island was even more breathtaking than pictures showed it to be, or Alexa had imagined. They hiked through dense, towering old-growth trees, with sunlight filtering through the canopy above. They crossed babbling brooks and climbed rocky outcroppings that offered more unobstructed views than the lake itself. Everywhere she looked, there was something new and awe-inspiring to discover.

Throughout the day, Alexa couldn't help but notice the ease with which Max navigated the wilderness. He moved with quiet confidence, his knowledge of the land evident in every step he took. It was clear that Kodiak Island was not just his home, but a part of him—a place that had shaped and defined him in ways she was only beginning to imagine, much less understand.

As they rested by a secluded beach, Alexa took out her notebook and began jotting down observations and ideas for her articles. Max watched her with a curious expression.

"You really love what you do, don't you?" he said.

"I do," Alexa replied, glancing up at him. "There's something incredibly fulfilling about capturing the essence of a place like this and sharing it with others—perhaps inspiring them to come and see for themselves. It's like I'm preserving a piece of it for people who might never be able to experience it."

Max nodded, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "I feel the same way about my carvings and sculptures. It's a way of capturing the soul of a place, or a piece of wood, or even a moment in time. Something that goes beyond words."

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