Page 5 of Bred Mate
“A woman.”
“The one you were going to kill? She got one over on you?”
“Christ, Raglan,” I grunt. “She wasn’t a girl. She was a wolf. She shifted.”
“How the hell did we miss that?”
“Whole damn place smelled like blood and death, and then she smelled like fear. Maybe we missed it ‘cause of that.”
Can’t explain how I fucked her and didn’t smell her. I guess there’s a chance I was too busy smelling myself and everything else to pay attention to who I was fucking.
“Get a tow crew out here to get the car and bike out of the water,” I say. “Less said about this the better.”
He’s trying not to smile obviously, but I can see the little smirk on his face.
“It’s been a long night, boss,” he says. “I’ll drop you home.”
I sleep deep and easy that day and night. My body is trying to make up for blood loss. My mind is fixated on her. I dream of her all night long, and I wake with her on my mind. Every little bit of her face, every little feature.
I can’t get that she-wolf out of my head. I remember her every time I swallow. She put a mark on me that damn near took the life right out of me. Nobody has ever done that before.
I want to find her. Badly.
It’s time to start hunting.
We have records of every shifter in the state—or we’re supposed to anyway. I go to the record keeper my father always used. She’s a woman of the library. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her outside it. She wears long skirts and keeps her silver-streaked hair tied up behind her head.
“I need to find a woman. Early twenties. Dark hair. Dark eyes. I think she’s an alpha female.”
“Aren’t many of those,” the librarian says. “But they’re also not technically registered either. What makes you think she’s an alpha?”
“The way she handles herself.”
“Did she have a particular accent?”
“Sounded rural.”
“Alright. Well. I can compile a list of known female shifters,” she says. “Just give me a little time.”
“How much time?”
She ignores me and walks away, her brow slightly furrowed as she gives her full attention to the task at hand.
I don’t think she’s going to have much luck. Nobody in the bar last night recognized that little female. Even I was too covered in blood to scent her properly. Her essence is probably still clinging to my dick, but I can’t exactly present that as information to the librarian.
“Rough night, Master Karl?”
My father’s manservant didn’t get taken with him to Hawaii. He was left with the house. His name is Baldwin, and he’s been a fixture of my life for as long as I can remember. He’s a tall man with white hair and a general demeanor of calm. He’s seen many things happen over the years, and he knows where the bodies are buried. Metaphorically and literally, because he manages the family crypt.
“I’m looking for a girl,” I say.
“Aren’t we all,” he replies with a broad smile. “What’s her name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you are certainly making it easy for me, aren’t you.”
I ignore his sarcasm.
