Page 2 of The Wolf's Mate

Sister Tammy turns down her radio and straightens in her seat. Her old sedan comes to a slow roll, but I can’t help noticing her grip tightens on the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white.

“There’s no convincing you to stay in the car and come back to Grym Hollow? It’s the safest place in America, you know. The Guardian can protect you here with his magic. Don’t gotta run off. I’m sure your mother and little sister would prefer you with them. Isn’t Clarissa’s birthday coming up?” Sister Tammy drives the invisible knife deeper into my heart, immobilizing me.

For one second, I allow myself to think about what my life would be like if I stayed. The nights I would spend bouncing between men just to feel an ounce of thrill. Constantly chasing a high that did nothing but hurt my family. Ending up in holding cells until my mom and sister scrounge up enough money to bail me out, knowing this wouldn’t be the last time. Knowing every cent should go to my late dad’s medical bills.

I wasn’t always like this. My father’s death affected me more than I cared to admit, and instead of unleashing the pain in a healthy, less destructive way, I did everything and anything I could to run away from it.

I’m so tired of seeing my sister’s red-rimmed eyes each time they bail me out. How she hugs me like she might never get the chance to do it again.

I’m tired of listening to my mother cry herself to sleep at night, missing the husband who should have never died. He died because of the stress I constantly put on my family. His heart couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m also tired of being the town fuck-up. At least this way, something good will come out of the many mistakes I’ve made, and maybe my mom will have enough money to give my sister the life—and birthday—she deserves.

With the last few dollars I had, I left my sister a necklace. Not the fancy one she has been eyeing, but still a pretty one. A locket with a picture of us from a Christmas party years ago. It’s the last thing I was able to do for her, and I hope she understands why I had to leave.

“This is far enough, thank you.” I ignore her question and wait until the sedan comes to a complete stop before opening the door. Grass doesn’t wait for me to get out. Instead, he uses me as his springboard to jump out of the car and assess the area.

“That’s a good dog you got there. I see why you brought him. Must be your guardian angel or something.” Sister Tammy laughs, but it seems forced. She’s itching to get out of here, just as much as I’m ready to get this over with and start my new life.

“Or something.” I finally get out of the car. The moment I close the door, Sister Tammy floors it and peels out of the gravel driveway, leaving Grass and me behind.

The Guardian’s house is only a small walk up the hill, which allows me some time to mentally prepare to come face-to-face with him again. I’ve only seen The Guardian once after seeking him out. He’s not human, at least not entirely. His skin is an ashy gray, and he has horns protruding from his forehead. He stands a foot taller than a normal man, with muscles that seem carved from stone.

Intimidating is an understatement. The Guardian is completely nightmarish in his solitude and nonhuman-like appearance. And yet, he watches over this town as if he owes us a life debt.

I don’t know how he got here, where he came from, or why he is here, and, frankly, I don’t care as long as he can help me. I’ve never claimed to be a good woman, but this is one thing I can do unselfishly for my family.

Next to me, Grass barks, drawing my attention. At first, I don’t see what alerts him. He crouches defensively and growls low, warning me of the dangers ahead. There’s only one reason my dog would act like this.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, a house comes into view. It’s nestled between trees, looking out of place in the rather desolate area. The house is a small cottage with a low-pitched gable roof. A covered patio encircles the front of the house, decorated with plants and a cozy seating area.

It’s so ordinary, I almost think I’m in the wrong place. There’s nothing threatening or life-changing about the house. Yet I can’t help but feel that the moment I step inside, my entire world will change.

Probably because it will, dumbass, I think to myself. Am I doing the right thing? Is my family truly better off without me? Yes. The answer is yes.

That sober thought has me gathering the courage to walk up to the fairytale-looking cottage. Grass whines next to me, and I lean down to pet his head. “It’ll be okay.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to reassure.

Before I can change my mind, I force myself to knock on the yellow door. I don’t have time to gather myself before it swings open. On instinct, both Grass and I take a step back, but that doesn’t seem to deter The Guardian.

The man before me is dressed in tailored black slacks and a white button-up shirt. He left the top few unbuttoned, exposing the gray, muscular skin underneath. He shouldn’t be attractive because he’s not human, and yet, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about him. A melancholy kind of beauty.

A certain sadness surrounds him, lurking just underneath the surface. He gives me a pleasant nod, but his eyes look past me as if looking for something—or someone—else.

“Good evening, Ms. Ortega. Blanchette, is it?” He steps out of his house. I peer past him, trying to catch a glimpse inside, but the door closes before I can get a proper look.

“I go by Hettie.” Blanchette is a family name—one I despise and got ruthlessly bullied for in junior high. Hettie fits me better, though my family still insists on calling me Blanchette.

I suppose that will not be a problem anymore.

“Hettie, then,” he says in a way that tells me he’ll never use my preferred name. “Ms. Ortega, do you have the contract I gave you?”

I’ve only double-checked a thousand times before leaving my house that I have it with me. I spent hours combing through every single detail of the contract, so I know what I’m getting into. I may be reckless, but I’m not stupid.

I dig out the crumpled contract from my bag, handing it over. “I made one change. Grass is coming with me. That’s nonnegotiable. I know it says I’ll enter alone, or whatever, but I’m not leaving without Grass.”

I sound more confident than I feel. I have nothing to barter with him. The Guardian isn’t foolish. He knows this too, and yet he nods once, and that’s all the confirmation I need. My body sags in relief because, despite the new trajectory of my life, at least I’ll have Grass.

“Very well. Besides that, do you have any questions or concerns?” The Guardian asks.

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