Page 4 of His Tainted Mate

The private plane carrying Rab from the Scottish Highlands to Tasmania landed as the morning sun cast a golden hue over the city of Hobart and its beautiful harbor along the River Derwent. Rab disembarked and was grateful to see a familiar face standing just outside the secure area of the airport. As they drove out to the clinic where Trudi was being treated, Hamish handed a photograph to Rab, who had to hide his reaction. Not only did the image evoke a bout of dizziness and disorientation, but he also recognized her as the woman who had been haunting his dreams and fantasies.

It was as if the photographer had reached into Rab’s mind—or perhaps his memory of a past life—and taken a picture showing her eyes, her smile, and her voluptuous curves. If he closed his eyes, he could almost swear he could detect her scent, and he wondered if he would be able to trace her path, despite the distance between Hobart and Cradle Mountain being formidable. Cradle Mountain lay on the other side of Tasmania, and the rugged terrain that lay between would have been a challenging journey. If, however, Trudi was certain of her sister’s end point, Rab was inclined to use a plane from which he could skydive into the wilderness that surrounded the mountain.

They entered Trudi’s room. She looked far worse than Rab had thought she would, but he could detect no hint of death surrounding her.

“How is she?” he asked Hamish.

“Holding her own. She made me promise to give the serum time to work.”

Rab laid his hand on Hamish’s shoulder. “You’ve got time, brother. I do not smell the taint of death near her.”

“Thank you, Rab. I was almost afraid to ask you that.”

One of the things that Rab possessed was a unique ability to smell the aura of death as it approached an individual. There had been more than one occasion that his ability to do so had told the medics who was in the most need or allowed a clan member’s family to gather close and be there when the person passed from this plane of existence to another.

“Keep a close eye on her and act while she still has strength to transition easily. I’m going to arrange for a plane to take me north to Cradle Mountain. It’ll be faster and easier.”

“From my understanding, there’s no real good place to land close to the mountain.”

Rab grinned at him. “I wasn’t planning on the plane landing. I’ll just hop out and glide my way down to the ground.”

“You’re a crazy sonofabitch,” said Hamish.

“You’re just figuring that out now?” quipped Rab. “I’m going to take this picture with me. Tell Trudi I’ll bring her sister home.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“It is my honor to do so. Take care of Trudi and leave the rest to me.”

Rab left Hamish and headed for the small private airport where there was a plane waiting to take him across the island. Once they were in the Cradle Mountain wilderness area, Rab would parachute into the area with provisions and set about finding the wayward Tasmanian devil.

Later, the roar of the plane’s engines filled the cabin, a deafening sound that seemed to vibrate through every fiber of Rab’s being. The small aircraft shuddered as it climbed higher, the world outside the windows shrinking until the landscape below was nothing but a patchwork quilt of greens, browns, and blues. Rab’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through his veins. This wasn’t his first jump, but the thrill of it never diminished.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom, letting Rab know they were over the designated area and he should prepare to send out the parachute with his provisions and then follow it down. Rab took a deep breath, steadying himself. He checked his gear one last time, ensuring everything was secure, and then sent it with his pack and supplies through the open door and waited for the safety line to release the provisions.

Then he re-checked that his parachute was packed correctly, the ripcord was in place, and that his altimeter was strapped to his wrist.

“Go on green,” the pilot said.

Rab nodded, feeling the plane’s vibrations through the soles of his boots. The open door to the aircraft allowed the cold air to fill the cabin, mingling with the scent of oil and metal. The noise had intensified, the howl of the wind outside mingling with the engine’s roar. Rab’s pulse quickened as he approached the open door, the void beyond beckoning.

He stepped to the edge, peering out into the vast expanse of sky. The ground was a dizzying distance below, the curvature of the Earth visible on the horizon. Rab felt the same surge of exhilaration he always did. Only skydiving could offer him the same sense of freedom, pure and unfiltered, as he felt when he shifted into his snow leopard form. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the sensation, then opened them, focused, and leaned forward, allowing gravity to take hold and whisk him away from the plane.

The transition from solid floor to freefall was instantaneous, a sensation that defied description. The wind whipped past him, a force that seemed to pull at every inch of his body. The sound of his body disrupting the air was all-encompassing, drowning out everything else.

Rab’s body settled into a stable position, arms and legs spread out to control his descent and allow him to follow the glide path of the provisions. The sensation of falling was both thrilling and surreal, a combination of weightlessness and velocity. The altimeter on his wrist ticked down, the numbers a reminder of the time he had before deploying his chute.

The world below rushed up to meet him, the details becoming clearer with each passing second. Rab felt the rush of air against his face, the pressure building as he hurtled towards the earth. Despite the speed, there was a strange sense of calm, a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. This was why he jumped—for this feeling of being alive, completely and utterly in the moment.

At the predetermined altitude, Rab reached for the ripcord, his movements practiced and precise. He pulled, and there was a brief, heart-stopping moment of silence as the parachute deployed. The canopy billowed out above him, catching the air and slowing his descent. The jolt of deceleration was sudden but welcome, a reassurance that the equipment had done its job and death would not have him today.

The growl of the wind diminished, replaced by a serene quiet as Rab drifted down. He took a moment to orient himself, checking his surroundings and where the provisions had landed. He could see the parachute and directed his own to follow. Below, the landscape stretched out, a mosaic of meadows, forests, and rivers. The sensation of floating was almost dreamlike, a stark contrast to the intense freefall just moments before.

Rab guided the parachute with practiced ease, steering towards the landing spot of his pack and supplies. The ground approached steadily, the details becoming more pronounced as he adjusted his descent. His feet touched down lightly, a controlled landing that sent a familiar thrill of accomplishment through him.

As Rab gathered his parachute and secured his gear, he couldn’t help but smile. The jump had been everything he hoped for and more. He stood for a moment savoring why he did this, why he pushed himself to the limits. For the rush, the freedom, and the sense of being truly alive. But now it was time to get to work. He needed to find Elle and bring her home.

She wouldn’t die on his watch, not if he had anything to say about it. Besides, there was another reason to find her. She was no longer just Trudi’s sister, no longer just a quarry to be found; she was his fated mate. Elle would have no need of the serum; Rab would claim her as his mate and her transition from Tasmanian devil to snow leopard would provide all the cure she needed. If she balked, he would simply tell her that the serum hadn’t survived the jump.

---