Page 20 of Fractured Mates

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Page 20 of Fractured Mates

“What?” she snaps, mouth full and chocolate on her cheek.

“You seem to have quite the appetite,” I muse, openly staring at her.

“I’m in a committed relationship with food,” she says, almost sounding proud. “Do you have a problem with that?”

I shake my head, then put the car in reverse. “Nope. Not at all.”

Sophie is an enigma, and much to my wolf’s dismay, I’m actually intrigued by the idea of earning her trust and figuring out just who this murdering, food-obsessed woman really is.

Chapter Eight

Sophie

I’m minutes from withering away and turning to dust. My stash of food in the car has done nothing to subdue my hunger, and I find myself wondering how desperate I am to get the soap out of my hair that’s now itching my scalp. That or the bits of dried blood from fighting off the chasing wolves in that forest.

Kyler, on the other hand, decided to be a typical guy and use a water bottle to clean himself without asking if I wanted to do the same before the water was all gone.

The man currently at the top of my shit list gives me a onceover as if mocking my thoughts. “You might want to wait in the car while I get us a room key.”

I hold my fingers up. “Two keys.”

His head tilts as if he doesn’t understand English. What the hell am I supposed to do with this pain in the ass?

Fuck him while we have the chance, my wolf quips with a dark chuckle, and her words do exactly what I assume she was going for.

I choke a little before I explain in layman terms what I mean.

“Two keys, Kyler,” I say slower. Okay, maybe I’m overreacting a little here, but given my current state and mood, I don’t back off. “Two keys. Two rooms. Just because you’ve already seen me naked doesn’t mean I’m going to share a bed with you or even a room.”

His face pales so briefly that it might have just been a trick of the moonlight, then he grins. “You know, Sophie, the fact that you brought that up all on your own tells me that you were already imagining doing just that.”

I open my mouth to tell him some not-so-nice things, but he’s already up and out of the car, closing the door behind him.

That son of a bitch, I complain more to myself, except my wolf decides to chime in. Of course.

He’s quite perfect, actually.

Oh, no, I say to her, shaking my head. Don’t get any ideas. Not this wolf. Not this situation. It’s too complicated already.

To that, she has no reply and her silence worries me, but when my stomach rumbles loudly, I find myself more distracted with locating food. The seedy motel isn’t going to have room service, but there should at least be vending machines around here.

Opening my center console, I dig out some crumpled dollar bills and flatten them over my jeans. My clothes are clean, at least. It’s just the soap in my hair and blood lightly splattered on my face that I notice on second glance and might scare someone. If they see me.

Deciding to risk it, I get out of the car and glance toward the front office. I spot Kyler through the window. He’s smiling at whoever is behind the counter and handing over a credit card. His guard is down, and I can’t stop myself from noticing that he is rather handsome, in a rugged sort of way.

I thought he was dark and broody when he first showed up, but the longer he sticks around, annoying me, the more I’m starting to see that’s just his work mode. Not surprising, considering he’s a protector, but there’s still something about him that tells me he’s not all sunshine and roses.

As if he has a dark shadow within him that he keeps tightly reined in. I’m tempted to keep poking at it just to see him completely unhinged.

So he can be crazy like you? my wolf asks drolly.

Maybe. That might actually be fun.

She sighs heavily. Our versions of fun have somehow become widely different over the years.

My wolf isn’t wrong, but I depend on her to be different from me. We might be opposites in many ways, and I might bitch about her, but I know her value. I know that I wouldn’t have survived murdering Thane and running away without her strength and constant reminders that we’d done the right thing.

I’ve killed when I’ve had to a dozen or so times since then and wear the chip on my shoulder proudly, but that doesn’t mean I’m without remorse.




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