Page 45 of His True Beloved

“What if he is your mate?” She kneeled on the floor. “He could be your mate, then what? You are worrying for nothing.” I gripped the phone, and ping after ping of messages of “Christine, where are you?” and “Answer your phone” appeared.

Turning it off, I threw it on the bed. I had to think rationally about this.

“If I was his mate, he would have told me.” I put my hands on my hips. “He would have told me first thing. That is what Justin did to my mom.” Pamela huffed, crossing her arms.

“You seemed pretty adamant that mates weren’t real when we first spoke. Maybe he is hiding it from you because of your bad attitude.” She bobbed her head annoyingly. “I wouldn’t want to tell you, either.”

“You’re mean,” I hissed. “I’ve seen how Justin and Mom act, all the mates around here. He would not be able to wait to have me as his mate if it were true.” Pamela whistled, walking back to the fridge and handing me the kombucha.

“Just call him,” she pleaded. “Communication in relationships is important, and you are sitting there hiding,” she scolded. “Just rip it off like a Band-Aid. Tell him your problems.”

Hmm, maybe.

“But he said I was his. What if he goes and kills some innocent person?” Sebastian was strong, I could tell. Scratching my nails down his back the other night proved he was. The man didn’t even bleed, and I swore he whispered for me to scratch him harder.

Woo, got me all hot and bothered.

And who is to say I would reject him anyway? I could just stay with Sebastian, have a say in my fate, and not by some goddess, but when Sebastian was around, I couldn’t think straight! Staying away, just for a little while, would be best.

Right?

It’s so I can think properly and not think about thrumming my clit every five minutes when I’m with him.

Pamela snickered, pulling off her top and showing me her breasts. “Woah! Woah! What are you doing!?” I covered my eyes with a pillow as she cackled.

“Humans and nudity.” She scoffed, striding away. “You can look now,” she sang as she put on a purple-laced bra. “Listen, can’t tell you what to do, but I’ve got a place to be. You don’t look like you are stable, so I’m going to make you come with me.” She threw a black mini skirt my way.

“I’m not unstable,” I mumbled, pouting like a child.

“If only you knew,” Pamela muttered, rustling through a giant chest of drawers. Throwing shirts, socks, and random pieces of undergarments, she pulled out a top to cover her chest. “Listen here,” she ordered. “You are coming to see a band, not just any band, a supernatural one.”

Pamela trotted over to the messy vanity filled with make-up, brushes, and a large mirror and began to cake on heavy eyeliner. “Maybe getting you out will do you some good,” she trailed, opening her mouth as she flicked the mascara on her lashes. “Or it could be quite hilarious.” She giggled.

“Why is that?” I crossed my arms.

“No reason.” She waved the wand around. “And let me ask you, you didn’t have a smell on you when you came over here, but now you do. Did you put something on you to conceal it?” She raised a brow. “So he couldn’t find you? That’s quite impressive for you to do that.”

I shook my head, my eyes trailing to the window. “Oh, no, my stepdad put some on me so I could see my mom drown out some of my smell, but I hit my knee, and it bled.” Pamela sniffed again.

“Those vamps are so strong with the blood smell. I can barely smell the dried blood on you. Do you need another Band-Aid?” I sighed heavily, running my fingers through the three layers of bandages.

“No, it will take a little longer to clot. I don’t want it to start bleeding again.” Pamela pursed her lips. “Your hemophilia, right?”

“Yeah.” I looked at her. “How did you know?”

“Werewolves have great noses, for other things.” She sat on the bed, putting her arm around me. “Vampires may smell the blood, but we can smell genetic defects. Ever heard of dogs finding cancer in their masters? Or even dogs knowing about a seizure that is about to happen in their humans? Werewolves are the same. I knew something was different about your blood. Something was missing. I just put the pieces together.”

I hummed in understanding. It made sense. Even werewolves had some pretty awesome abilities. “Come on.” She nudged me. “Take a shower, relax, and I’ll get your mind off things. Maybe that will lighten your mood and be able to talk to your ma—man.”

***

“I changed my mind,” I stood outside another alleyway. It wasn’t the same alley that held Pamela’s studio apartment, but another one that was five blocks over in the small town. This time we didn’t climb stairs up to a loft. We were going down.

The wooden cellar door was old, with few holes sitting in the corners, rusted hinges, and the green paint peeling. “It’ll be fine, come on.” Pamela waved at me, stomping on the door in three different spots. The banging made different sounds on different areas of the door and promptly was pushed open by a heavily tattooed man with a ring in his nose.

“Aye, Pamela, good to see ya. Here for the band?” His voice didn’t match his face. He was overly happy, his eyes brightening like the lights in New York City.

“Yup,” she pepped. “Are these the North Wing Pack’s boys?” She jumped down the first few steps, waving me to follow. The outside of the cellar was a stark contrast down below. Blue, purple, and green lights now spilled out into the alley. “Nah, these are from the Blue Eclipse pack. They and a bunch of unmated wolves came out for the mixer that Elder Rowan is holding.”

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