Page 1 of Rejecting his Mate

Chapter 1

Halle

PAST…

Iknow we’re in trouble the moment we step out of the motel room and into the night air. I stifle a yawn, my jaw tight as I try to control it. In the distance, I can hear cars, but nothing moves on the road in front of the building or the parking lot below.

The stillness surrounding us feels wrong, though I’m not sure why.

I tug my coat around my small body, trembling in the cold air. There’s a layer of frost on the railings that surround the walkway, but there’s no snow on the ground yet. I suck in a trembling breath as goose bumps raise over my skin beneath my jacket. My bare legs are chilled to the bone, the thin nightdress I’m wearing underneath my coat doing nothing to keep me warm.

“Mama, where are we going?” I ask, keeping my voice low and quiet. I sense the urgency and the fear in her movements, and that makes me feel just as anxious.

“Quiet, Halle,” she says.

It’s not snapped, but it is firm, and it makes me clamp my lips together. Mama is never usually sharp with me. We laugh and have so much fun together—or we did. Lately, all we’ve been doing is moving from motel to motel. Our days are spent on the road, eating at truck stops and diners, while our nights are filled with strange beds in different towns. I miss my room and our backyard.

I clutch my teddy bear to my chest as I glance up the walkway. We’re in complete darkness other than a small slither of light coming from the gap in the curtains of one room along the walkway and the flashing sign near the road that says “Rooms Available”.

I don’t like the dark; I never have, but tonight it feels more dangerous than ever. The shadows feel as if they are closing in.

The motel room disappears as Mama shuts the door behind us, and the last pull of sleep goes with it. I’m fully alert, and fear clamps around my gut.

Mama pulls me close against her body, her arm shielding me from some unseen threat. I can feel the tension through her, and that adds to my growing nervousness.

“Whatever happens, you stay close to me,” Mama says as she lifts our bag off the ground and slings it over her shoulder.

“Okay, Mama,” I say in an equally quiet voice.

She takes my hand and drags me along the walkway toward the stairs that lead down to the parking lot. Mylegs pump to keep up with her pace, but Mama never lets go of my hand, even as we go down the stairs.

Stopping at the bottom, Mama’s head snaps toward the shadows beyond the building as if she can sense a threat. Her hand tightens in mine as she lifts her chin a little and sniffs the air.

I mimic her, letting my wolf’s senses take over. It takes me less than a second to catch their scent. It infuses my nose with a kind of woodsy but wet smell.

Wolf.

Mama tightens her grip on my hand, darting across the lot and dragging me with her. She fumbles with the car keys, muttering words I can’t hear under her breath as she gets the door open.

“In you go,” she orders. I scramble across the seat and onto the passenger side while she gets behind the wheel.

I clutch Teddy closer, my eyes darting around the darkness as she shuts her door and starts the engine. The headlights lighten the parking lot, chasing some shadows away. I catch the glimmer of two eyes in the dark before another set comes into view.

I know Mama sees them too. She stiffens, her gaze locked in the same direction.

“Put your seat belt on,” she orders, pulling her own around her body. I struggle to get mine into the catch, but eventually, it clicks into place.

Snuggling the bear in my hands, I reach out to the animal that lives inside my head, needing her comfort. She whimpers and paws the ground, pleading for me to flee to safety.

Mama has a wolf in her mind too, but mine is, like me, just a pup. Mama says some of us can shift into our wolves when we grow up, but she can’t, and I’m too young to try. The first shift happens during the first moon ceremony, around our twenty-first year, or so Mama tells me. I have a long way to go until then.

The car lurches forward, and the tires squeal as Mama directs it toward the parking lot exit.

Two large wolves step out in front of the car. One is gray, with a longer coat and piercing amber eyes, and the other is a sandy color. Both have their heckles raised, and as young as I am, I understand the threat in that.

Mama slams on the brakes to avoid hitting them. I jolt in my seat, the belt snapping around me and sending a punch of pain through my chest.

Despite being encased in the metal frame of the car, we are exposed, vulnerable, and alone. I count the pounding of my heart, which I can hear thudding in my ears as I peer through the windshield.

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