Page 5 of Bred Mate (Stalked Mates #2)

E llie

The drive out to the middle of nowhere takes the better part of a day.

The closer I get to home, the more excited I get.

The more excited I get, the more I worry that I shouldn’t be excited at all.

We have been looking for a solution for so long, since we woke up one day to the sound of falling timber and the certainty that the only home we’ve ever known would be erased.

My pussy is aching and I am struggling with myself. I hate having to come to someone like this for help. I hate that my whole life is falling apart and coming down to what’s between my legs.

“So, what did happen to your face?” I decide to make some small talk.

He frowns at me for a second, then he seems to remember he has a scar.

“None of your business,” he says.

I don’t say anything back. I feel a little chastised, but I know it was kind of a rude question. Whatever happened to his face, it was nasty and cruel. Something he didn’t deserve probably, because it looks old.

“My father threw an axe at me when I was fifteen,” he says after a couple of minutes of silence.

“The fuck? Why? Was it an accident?”

“He was trying to kill me.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He shrugs. “I deserved it.”

“What the hell could you have done at fifteen to deserve an axe to the face?”

“I was trying to kill him.”

Karl’s answers are blunt and honest, and somehow they still reveal absolutely nothing. That is a wild trick.

“Can I ask why?”

“No.”

“Okay.” I look out the window and I watch the world slide by. I’ve fucked up by asking Karl Dulac for his help. I could have done anything else. I could have done an online fundraiser. I could have baked cookies and sold them at a roadside stand. I could have done literally anything except this.

He’s one fucked-up man. Even for a shifter, he’s fucked.

When he fucked me, he made me feel like I was the only female he had ever wanted. There was a hint of softness in his brutality, a little spark of something I convinced myself was kindness. I don’t know if it is anymore.

Orion Dulac’s reputation was always brutal, but everyone always said he was smart. He did a lot of business in New Orleans, and with the surrounding packs. He was a real leader, a politician. A gentleman, by all accounts. A ladies’ man. And he tried to kill his fifteen-year-old son with an axe.

I look over at Karl. He’s staring at the road, no sign of softness anywhere on his hard, scarred face. I wonder if he’s known a moment of kindness in his life, either giving or receiving.

“Need gas,” he grunts as we pass a sign indicating a gas station isn’t too far off.

“Yep,” I say, not sure what I can add. Guess there’s nothing really to add.

We pull into the forecourt, and while he pumps gas, I go into the station, pee, and buy a couple of drinks. When I come out, he’s back in the car.

Karl looks at me with some surprise as I hand him some cream soda.

“For me?”

“For you,” I say. “You looked thirsty.”

“And you think I’m a cream soda man?”

“Sorry,” I say. “You don’t have to drink it.”

“No,” he says after a brief moment that makes me think he really doesn’t like it. He cracks the can and drinks.

Karl

The drink’s sweeter than I usually like.

I don’t drink soda as a rule. I usually drink water, coffee, or alcohol.

But there’s something in her eyes, something like disappointment and the kind of pain I guess I don’t want to inflict.

She tried to do something nice for me. I don’t really know why.

Is she trying to suck up to me? Does she think if she acts nice, I’ll be nicer to her?

I’m already doing something nice, so it can’t be that.

“Is this because of the scar? Are you feeling sorry for me?”

She looks at me. “I thought you were thirsty, asshole.”

I don’t know why being called asshole makes me feel more comfortable than a girl getting me a drink, but it makes me crack a smile.

“Alright,” I say. “Thanks.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to say, by the way, when someone does something human for you. You’re supposed to say, ‘thank you, that’s nice of you.’”

“You want to teach me about manners?”

“Someone should,” she says. “I guess you never learned about them, being parented by an axe.”

I laugh at the unexpected joke that actually tickles me really deeply. She’s funny.

“I got snacks too,” she says. “You want some jerky, or do you just want to be a jerk?”

“Alright, enough with the puns,” I say, extending my hand as we start driving.

It’s good to be underway again. Makes me feel peaceful to have the road passing under the wheels of my car.

I’ve been in New Orleans a little too long.

I’ve been in that big house, trying to fill it with my presence and being far too uncivilized to do anything besides make a mess.

Living in my father’s home feels like being five years old and trying to wear his shoes.

It’s all too big, too fancy, and just not me. This wilder area feels more natural.

My brother and I used to hunt together, before sibling rivalry got too intense and Orion had us split up.

I’ve spent the last three years doing the things the pack needs done, the things that nobody wants to do, and nobody wants to admit they’d ask anyone to do.

Human families have black sheep. That’d be me.

Ellie slides a stick of jerky into my hand. I shove it into my mouth. There’s not enough there to even begin to sate my hunger, but the flavor of meat entertains my taste buds.

I never thought I’d take a mate, and I never really planned to have a family, but I guess when you meet the right girl, you change all your plans at once.

I’ve never felt happy before, I realize, as contentment settles over me. I like happy. I might try for more of it.

Ellie

They’ve already started destroying the forest when we arrive. I don’t know what you call the big creatures that are much, much worse than bulldozers. There are big spinning blades on the front on them that can turn a tree into wood chips in minutes. It’s so fucked.

“Stop! Stop!” I jump out of the car and run toward the woods to try to stop them from going any further.

Karl grabs me by the waist, swings me up off the ground, and tosses me out of the way as easily as he would pick up a bag of groceries. “Get out of the way,” he says.

“They’re already cutting the trees down! We’re too late!”

“We are not too late,” he says. “We are right on time.”

“Buddy, get your woman the hell out of my way,” the machine driver calls out.

Karl strides up to the machine, hauls the door open, and pulls the driver out of it, yanking him out of the protection of the cabin. The man is in his forties, wearing plaid and hi-vis, and a hard hat that tumbles onto the ground to reveal a bald pate.

“This isn’t your territory,” he says. “It’s mine, and you’re going to get the hell out of here right fucking now, or this is going to get bloody. I promise you that.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He looks at Karl, so fucking stupid and so fucking confused.

Sometimes I really hate people. They’re such a waste. The very notion of them is fucking stupid. I have a sudden, strange urge to murder the hell out of the guy. I resist it, just. Killing people should be some kind of a last resort.

“You’re going to take these machines and you’re going to get the hell out of here,” he repeats, because the man he is talking to is very, very stupid.

The men working the machines look at each other, then back at Karl.

“You’re not going to do shit, buddy.”

I really thought he’d do something financially, or maybe politically. I thought he’d make a call. Or take a meeting. I guess the drivers thought the same, because they just look at us with dumb meaty faces that don’t seem to be capable of realizing that their lives are in real danger.

Karl doesn’t say anything else. He’s done talking. Done warning.

His fist makes wet, meaty, crunching contact with the driver’s face.

Three others come at him fast. They’re lumbering and they’re angry.

They get into the fight, and they lose it.

It’s ridiculous, actually, watching it all happen.

I thought he might shift to try to get the upper hand, but he doesn’t need to.

Three on one isn’t fair. To them.

Karl is like a wild animal, inside and out.

He fights like he’s feral. I suppose all shifters are, deep down, but I’ve never seen anyone do it like this, show it through their human self, wear it on their human face.

He said his father hit him with an axe on purpose, and I didn’t believe it when he said it. But now I do.

All four of them are knocked out within three minutes. He’s stopped the machines, no doubt about that. I stand, staring, as he opens up hatches and yanks at bits of machinery, cutting cables and otherwise fucking the things up. They won’t be in operational order for quite a while, I think.

“Problem solved,” he says.

“For today, sure. But the company will send more machines and more men, and you know it. I wanted you to stop the whole operation, not beat up some working men who were just doing their jobs.”

Karl

She’s not satisfied. I did exactly what I said I’d do, and she’s not happy. I’m confused, and more than a little pissed off.

“What did you want me to do? Ask someone nicely not to destroy the forest?”

“Yes!” She stamps her foot. “I wanted you to deal with it officially, not like a fucking monster.”

I grab her. “I am a monster,” I tell her. “And I will always deal with things like one. You know that, don’t you, Ellie? You know you came to get help from someone with a brutal reputation. Someone who is going to fuck a baby into you because that’s what you’re made for?”

I can smell her arousal. She doesn’t want to be into this, but she can’t help it. She responds to my energy like moths respond to flames. She’s drawn to me, and she wants to spread her legs and take my cock.

Instead, she argues.