Page 64 of Hunted Mate
“I was good, wasn’t I. Not a single felony or even a misdemeanor,” I say, quite pleased with myself when we are done. The grocery store felt like a very pedestrian amusement park. I’m always slightly stunned by how many choices there really are in places like that.
“You’re supposed to be good,” Gray says. “But yes, you approximated normal behavior.”
“Not like that one guy who wouldn’t stop screaming for an ice cream.”
“He was about three years old. So yeah, congratulations, you behaved better than a three-year-old.”
“Yes, I did,” I say, remaining proud of myself even in the face of scathing facts. “I am better than a three-year-old. He kind of sucked. Feel sorry for his mom. Feel sorry for his dad. Feel sorry for me for having to hear it.”
We’re on the move now, heading out toward the house in the country. Gray’s talked me into ordering clothes online instead of going shopping. I like to think I am reasonablethat way. Relationships take compromise, and I am doing the compromise.
Gray glances over at me as I peel the plastic off a tray of sirloin steak and start gnawing on it.
“We did get napkins, didn’t we?” He says the words mildly.
“Sorry. It’s messy. But it’s also delicious. And they wouldn’t bring us raw meat in the hotel room. They said it was a liability. But the supermarket doesn’t care what I eat, and that’s what freedom means.”
“Is that what it means?”
“Yes.”
We don’t talk much after that, because I am trying to chew raw steak with teeth not designed for the purpose. I wish I had wolf teeth now. Some long, sharp canines and other -ines would be really useful at a time like this.
I’m quite content now, traveling with Gray, a belly full of meat, and the promise of something delightfully arcane happening to me on the horizon.
“You seem happy,” he notes.
“I am. I like moving around. Traveling, I guess, people call it.”
“That is what people call it,” he agrees. He’s eating a bierstick. I take one from the packet. I crave flesh right now. I kind of hope that goes away because I really don’t enjoy the idea of meat as much as I am enjoying the taste of it.
“Maybe we can travel when things settle down,” I suggest. “I can go to England with you and meet your mom.”
“You want to meet my mom?”
“Sure. I already met your dad, and that went great. I think he really likes me,” I say, collapsing into giggles.
“My god,” he groans.
“I bet your mom is nicer,” I say. “Most people are.”
“If we make it that far, and by that far, I mean through the full moon, we’ll set that up.”
CHAPTER 13
Callie
The house in the wilderness is probably haunted. I’m not worried about that. I am haunted too, and the ghosts that live inside me are much more of a concern to me and the rest of the world than anything that happens to inhabit an old country house.
As we pull up to it, I find myself looking at a big old majestic building that reminds me quite a lot of the house I was staying at with my family after my parents died. It’s big and painted white and there are massive bay windows and all kinds of fretwork and general charm. It’s the sort of place that was built by people with less than good intent or behavior. There’s a heaviness to it if I look too hard or think too long. I try not to do either.
The place has been left clean. I enjoy carrying the groceries inside and getting set up. It feels very domestic and normal, which is a nice change from feeling like a psychotic animal.
“This is nicer, right?” I prompt Gray for his response.
“Sure,” he says. “It’s a lot more private, but…”
“Oh, my god, don’t ruin it immediately.”
