Page 1 of The Artsy Girl’s Guide to Mating with a Werewolf (Mate Hunted #2)

one

STELLA

As I reached a fork in the dirt road, my gaze swept the forest in front of me.

Fall had hit in full force, so everything was saturated with the gorgeous reds and oranges that made the season feel so alive.

With the sun rising over the lake in front of me, the scenery was stunning in a way that made my fingers itch for a paintbrush.

I could see two cabins nestled in the trees, as far in separate directions as they could be while still remaining visible. They looked fairly similar, with dark green siding and plenty of exposed wood.

“Dammit, Abby,” I muttered under my breath. “Why did you think tangling with werewolves was a good idea?”

The question was rhetorical.

I knew why she thought it was a good idea.

Romance books.

Freaking romance books.

For most women, mating with a werewolf was something from one of those books.

But I knew firsthand that the experience could be a horror just as easily.

And considering my friend had gotten herself tangled up with someone from the Feral Pack, that seemed more likely than the potential for romance.

I’d kept my head down since moving to Moon Ridge, but everyone knew about the feral guys. They had a good reputation for helping people control their wolves, but the strikes against them were too big to ignore.

Most of them had been rejected.

My wolf was one of the few to reject the man who had hunted her, so I knew what usually led to rejection.

Abuse.

And I wasn’t letting my friend get trapped in that.

I’d gotten myself out—now I was going to get her out too.

I just hoped I wasn’t too late, because she hadn’t answered any texts in multiple days.

Turning left, I drove slowly enough that I hoped the werewolves wouldn’t hear me.

Her car wasn’t in front of the first house I passed.

Squinting, I tried to see if it was in front of the next one, further down the road. None of them had garages as far as I’d seen.

I wasn’t sure how many guys were in the feral pack, but I was pretty sure there were at least six. Most packs had six dudes. Plus their mates, after they paired off.

Then again, if the feral guys had been rejected, that probably would’ve messed with their numbers.

There could’ve been a dozen of them.

There could’ve been two or three.

I had no idea. Maybe I should’ve asked around, but I’d been too worried someone would realize who I was and I’d end up paired off with a wolf again. Supposedly, there was a chance my wolf would choose a mate at some point after rejecting our last one.

I didn’t see Abby’s car in front of the next house, so I pulled off to the side of the road with a sigh.

Stepping out, I hiked toward the lake. My gaze swept the perimeter of the body of water.

I could see seven different houses from there.

Abby’s phone had died a few days earlier, and the location hadn’t shown exactly which one I’d find her in.

That was obviously a problem.

Considering how much the other werewolves in Moon Ridge liked the feral pack, I didn’t think they were all bad. So if I started yelling in an attempt to find her, one of them would probably come out and point me in the right direction rather than just attacking me.

Probably, being the key word.

Hopefully, if not probably.

“Abby!” I called out, watching the houses around the lake for movement.

Nothing moved.

After giving it a minute, I raised my voice and yelled for her again. “ABBY!”

Everything was still quiet and calm.

Maybe the pack was out doing something.

I might have to drive around while I called her name after all.

Turning, I started the walk back to my truck, still calling for her.

“ABBY, WHERE ARE—” I stepped out from behind a tree, and nearly crashed into a guy. “Who the fuck are you?” I demanded.

He wasn’t just a guy.

He was a werewolf guy.

And he caught me off guard so thoroughly that my natural instinct was to shove past him, so his body wasn’t separating me from my truck. I needed a way to get both myself and Abby away from the feral pack, and that vehicle was my best shot.

I finally spun around to face the guy, my heart beating wildly.

He was tall and shirtless. All he had on was a pair of fuzzy pajama pants, and somehow, they made his thick muscles look even bigger.

His dark hair was cut shorter on the sides and longer on top but looked like it had been growing out for months since it was last trimmed. The longest strands of his hair fell into his eyes, a few pieces drooping to his chiseled, pale cheekbones.

My blue eyes met his emerald greens—and mine widened with horror when the monster living in my chest shoved her way to the surface immediately.

She took control in an instant.

A raspy whisper unwillingly left my lips.

The word I hoped I’d never hear anyone say again. Including me.

“Mate.”

The awful pain that always ensued when my wolf and I collided had my back arching and a scream tearing through my lungs.

The guy stood completely still, and the look on his face was somewhere between shock and horror when I finally finished shifting and my wolf stared up at him.

His hands were in the air, like he was trying to surrender or something.

She studied him. Which forced me to study him too.

He was attractive. Too attractive for his own good, probably. The contrast of his emerald eyes and pale skin was sharp in a way that made me want to paint it, as ridiculous as it was.

There was something in those eyes, too.

Darkness? Sadness? Shadows, at the very least.

Or I was just crazy.

Which seemed far more likely. Especially given the fact that I was attracted to the bastard my wolf had just declared was going to be the replacement for the abusive mate she had rejected eight years earlier.

He stared at her. He was paler than he’d been, and he almost looked nauseous.

Quiet footsteps on the dirt caught my wolf’s attention. She glanced sideways and determined immediately that the approaching couple wasn’t a threat.

It was Abby and Nico.

At least she was alive.

He was carrying her, and she was wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. It told me pretty clearly what had been going on between them.

Sex.

By the dazed look on her face, lots of sex.

They’d probably made it through the climax, which was the final step of the werewolf mating process.

The way Nico was holding her was protective. Not just possessive. There were no bruises on her skin, either, and I could see a large portion of it.

Maybe he wasn’t abusive after all.

If I’d just gotten myself trapped in another mate hunt because my friend was too busy having sex to answer her phone, I was going to lose it.

My wolf was focused on the pajama guy again.

He looked like he was going to freak out even before I did.

“Is that…” Abby began, but trailed off without finishing.

“She shifted,” Pajama Guy said.

He still looked stunned.

And sick.

Dear lord, if he puked because of our mate bond, I was going to leave my wolf in control for the rest of my life.

“What does that mean?” Abby asked. Her voice sounded a little weaker. If she’d made it through the climax, she probably had an idea.

“She was already a werewolf,” Nico said, as he set Abby down on her feet gently.

That gentleness told me I was most-likely wrong about Abby being in danger. Nico obviously wasn’t my ex.

Coming after her was officially going to go down as the werewolf world’s biggest fuck up. Pajama Guy was going to vomit all over me, and everyone in Moon Ridge would be gossiping about this mess by lunchtime.

“How?” Abby asked.

“She would’ve had to be rejected,” Nico said.

“But why did she shift?” Abby looked at Nico.

Nico looked at Pajamas. “Graham?”

Tell me Mr-I’m-going-to-puke-because-this-wolf-chick-decided-I’m-her-mate wasn’t named after a bear-shaped childrens’ snack.

Pajama Guy didn’t look away from my wolf. “She’s hunting me.”

My wolf stared back.

She hadn’t moved any closer to the guy.

That was good.

His sickness would be much worse if he puked all over her.

“Is he going to pass out?” Abby whispered to Nico.

“It’s a possibility,” Nico murmured back.

Fabulous.

Nico obviously knew the guy better than me or Abby, considering they were packmates. If he thought Teddy was going to pass out, I was screwed.

Then again, I was pretty sure my wolf was taking what was usually the male werewolf’s role. She was hunting Pajamas. That meant I was trapped in her body and she had complete control until she decided to bite him.

If she never believed he would accept her, maybe she’d never shift back.

At the moment, that seemed like a far better outcome than actually ending up mated again.

“Stay here,” Nico said.

It was an order, but it carried none of the heat or cruelty I’d received from the jerk my wolf had rejected.

Which made me even more convinced that I’d read the whole freaking situation wrong.

Nico lifted his hands the same way Graham’s were still raised. Abby’s mate took a few steps toward my wolf, and she immediately snarled at him.

Pajama Bastard was going to puke on her, but I guess my wolf was going to be all possessive of him anyway.

Nico stopped abruptly. “No one here is going to hurt you or anyone else.”

He was talking to my wolf.

Why did he think me or my wolf were worried about being hurt? She just didn’t want anyone else near the dude she’d claimed.

Even other guys who were clearly mated.

“Graham is fine to stay in his house while you decide whether or not you want to bite him. Right, Graham Cracker?” Nico looked at the sexy nauseous dude.

What grown man who looked like that would allow himself to be called Graham Cracker?

Pajama Guy cleared his throat. Or gagged. I silently urged my wolf to step back just in case, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t actually hear me.

Maybe he was just clearing his throat after all, because he said, “Uh, yeah. My house would be good. It’s safe. No weird smells. No other people.”

My wolf seemed to consider it for a moment before she nodded.

Graham hesitated.

The guy definitely wasn’t interested in me.

I’d better get used to a lifetime trapped in my wolf form.

Graham looked back at Nico, who flicked his hand. It almost looked like he was shooing Teddy toward the house.

I would’ve snorted if I’d been human, but I wasn’t. And possibly never would be again.

Graham scowled at the motion, finally showing a little personality aside from the nausea and abs. Not that the abs were part of his personality—they were natural for werewolves.

But I had never seen a werewolf quite that cut before, other than Nico. Maybe it was just a feral pack thing.

So maybe they were partially personality.

Who was I to discredit muscles like that?

Anyway.

My wolf followed him to the door, bumping his leg to get past him and into the house first.