Page 5 of Half Wolf Mate

Maybe I imagined it, but I swore a flicker of grudging respect flashed in his eyes. He studied me with open curiosity. “You’re handling this better than much stronger, full shifters I’ve encountered,” he murmured.

My gaze swung between his face and his blade. My thoughts were jumbled after everything I’d learned in the space of one afternoon, but I was able to process his words. “So, you’ve killed many others, then? You kill your own kind?”

He blinked. “My kind? What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you a…” I didn’t even want to say it. If I said it, it would mean that I believed all this crap. I sighed. “Werewolf?” I reluctantly muttered.

He sneered. “I’m proudly human. I hunt abominations like you.”

I swallowed hard. Perhaps I should have been running for my life by now, but I’d been launched into a world of confusion, and I just wanted some clarity. Uncle Sam had insisted it was a werewolf that killed Aunt Lydia, but this man confessed to it, and he claimed to be human. “So, you’re…”

“A hunter.”

I almost rolled my eyes at the amount of pride he projected with the announcement. Of course, I had more questions because I didn’t hear anything about hunters from Uncle Sam, and nothing in Aunt Lydia’s box said anything about them.

“Right.” I sighed with disappointment, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I was more lost than I was a few minutes earlier.

The hunter quirked an eyebrow. “I’m impressed with your composure. You’ve got nerves of steel. You could have been one of us—an asset to our team,” he said. “It’s unfortunate about your werewolf half.”

I gawked. Every word I’ve heard since I found my aunt dead created question after question. Why on Earth would he think I could have been like him? Before I could ask, he said, “Enough small talk. I’ve got a long list of creatures to eliminate, and I don’t have all night.”

He lunged in my direction.

Years of dodging some of my uncle’s drunken attacks had sharpened my reflexes. It was like my body knew to move before my brain even caught up. Instantly, after side-stepping him, my fingers wrapped around the armchair in front of the window, and without even thinking about it, I swung it at his head.

The force of my blow knocked him off his feet. He rolled onto his back, blinking rapidly as if daze. Or maybe he was in shock because he didn’t think I’d fight back. Wide-eyed and not sure where I got that burst of strength from, I dropped the chair and hurried toward my backpack. Luckily, I had stuffed everything into it earlier. Snatching it up, I took a step to the door.

The blade the man wielded at me caught my eye. He’d dropped it. Doubling back, I grabbed the weapon and sprinted to the door. The man groaned, and I looked over my shoulder, surprised to see him already staggering to his feet. What was his skull made of? Metal? I’d expected him to stay down at least a few minutes—enough time for me to get away from the motel and hide.

“Damn it,” I huffed and slammed the door shut. As I sprinted down the hallway, I thought about my options. Returning home was out of the question. I suspected that if I ran to Uncle Sam and begged for help, explaining the wholehunterscenario, he’d still send me on my way. I had no close friend whose place I could show up to and ask to crash for the night.

The only thing I could do was, as Aunt Lydia suggested—get the hell out of Nebraska—werewolf shifters and now hunters. I was in deep shit. Going to Louisiana to find my mother’s people…pack looked mighty appealing. So, when I burst through the motel’s exit, I aimed for the bus station two blocks away. Maybe with the help of my mother’s pack, I’d get the answers I needed and survive this crazy world I’d been thrown into.

Chapter 4 Sydney

The bus I stepped out of drove off, leaving me on the sidewalk. I surveyed my surroundings. “So, this is the famous French Quarter,” I whispered. I felt as if I was in an entirely different country because the environment was a world away from Falls City, Nebraska.

Blowing an exhausted breath, I tied my coat, which wasn’t necessary for the balmy New Orleans air. What was supposed to be about a day’s bus drive here took three days. A few times, I’d gotten off the bus at the scheduled stops and spotted someone dressed similarly to or moved with the same air as the man who attacked me in my motel room.

Taking no chances, I hid and got left behind several times. I’d have to pay for another ticket to continue my journey. I’d finally reached my destination, but I was out of money and so sleep-deprived I thought I’d topple over at any minute. Tugging at my coat, I frowned. I was also desperately in need of a proper shower.

As I looked around, my shoulders sagged. Where did I even go from here? Nothing in my aunt’s and mother’s letters told me specifically where to go in New Orleans. It wasn’t like I could go up to a random person and ask where to find a werewolf pack. I most certainly couldn’t go to the police and tell them I was being chased by insane people who claimed to hunt supernatural creatures. I’d likely be institutionalized.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I started to walk. Standing in one spot looking around might make me look crazy, too. I wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, barely even able to admire the city and people because I was so lost in thought about my next step. My stomach grumbled, reminding me the only thing I’d eaten in two days was a chocolate bar.

A commotion up ahead brought my attention to what looked like a restaurant. A man stomped out of the building, followed by a woman with brown skin and the most amazing head of curls I’ve ever seen. She wore a white apron over a traditional waitress uniform, so I assumed she worked in the restaurant.

As I got closer, she flipped the man off and yelled, “I don’t need you! You’re a terrible cook, anyway!”

“Screw you, Macy!” The man returned.

“You did, and it was a huge disappointment.”

I stopped to take in the amusing exchange. Other passersby gave the couple engaged in the shouting match curious looks, too.

“Give me back my hat!” the woman called Macy demanded.

The man stopped walking, turned around, and whipped off a white chef’s hat. He threw it at the woman, who caught it and proceeded to glare at who I assumed to now be an ex-employee as he marched away.

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