Werewolf and Vampire Mate [Book 1 Complete]

chapter five.

Orson

Every werewolf dreams about the day they will meet their mate. We grow up surrounded by mated couples who are all impossibly in love. We are constantly told that our mate will bring us true happiness, that without our mate, we will be empty and alone.

This is not how I imagined it would happen.

The girl lying on the motel bed sleeps peacefully. A bruise has begun to bloom on her forehead, a cut on her cheek.

She's injured because of me; I harmed my own mate. In some packs, that's punishable by death.

It was unintentional, of course—when I saw her with that vampire, I lost all sense of control. Jealousy mixed with protectiveness drove me to act irrationally. I have shattered the peace I worked so hard for with the vampires and I have injured my fragile mate. How did I manage to fuck this all up so badly in such a short span of time? Maybe I need to get a doctor of some kind. How long do humans take to heal from injuries like the marks on her face?

She's human. That fact rings through my brain every few minutes, like a reminder. My mate is human. It isn't unheard of or even necessarily rare within our pack. But an Alpha has never taken on a human mate before. The Alphas must be strong, setting an example for their pack. I don't know what it would look like, having a human leading at my side. I had never even considered it.

My duty has always been to my pack; I put the pack first in every decision I make. But now, looking at her, I feel everything inside of me shift. Priorities flip; she is all that matters.

Red hair fans out on the pillow around her. Her beautiful dress is ripped and ruined, but she is serene in sleep. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Unable to resist, I inch closer to the bed, my knees pressing against the ugly floral duvet. My hand reaches out to touch the soft looking skin of her arm... The motel door swings open and I quickly pull back before I make contact with her.

North and Heath both limp inside, bleeding from various places.

"Anything?" I question as North collapses into a chair by the curtained window. He shakes his head at me, worried and serious expression almost unnatural on his usually joking face.

"They fucking took her," Heath breathes, pacing back and forth. "They have her. They've probably killed her." He's panicking and I can't blame him; in the fight, the vampires managed to kidnap Lark. Heath and North barely made it out alive. I glance back at my mate still sleeping peacefully on the bed, the surge of protectiveness almost overwhelming. Heath and Lark have been mated for years; I can't even fathom what he must be feeling right now.

"She's not dead." I am calm, collected. A leader in the storm. "You can sense her. Feel for her now," I instruct and Heath pauses his pacing long enough to close his eyes and concentrate for a moment.

"I can feel her," he mutters and then his expression twists. "She's in pain."

Fuck.

Anger mounts. Lark is my responsibility, part of my pack. The vampires will pay for hurting her, but I know I bear the true responsibility for this. If she does die, it will be my fault.

"She's alive. That's what matters. We're going to get her back, I promise," I say.

"You're the reason she was taken! You were the one that said we had to keep the peace! What the fuck were you thinking, starting a fight with that many vampires around?" Heath demands.

"Careful," North warns him, but I hold up a hand to tell him that it's alright.

"I know. I'm sorry," I say earnestly. My father taught me that a good leader always admits his mistakes. "But I didn't have a choice." I look back at the sleeping girl. "She's my mate."

North stands abruptly, the chair thumping to the carpeted floor with the force of his movement. Heath is shocked into silence.

"Her?" North demands incredulously. "Reed, she's human."

"She's exactly what she needs to be," I bite back without thinking, even the hint of an insult toward her causing me unmanageable anger. "Look, we need reinforcements. You need to go back to the pack, tell my father what happened. We'll start sending out search parties for Lark. Heath, we both know that you're the one that's going to be most able to pick up on her scent. You need to eat something and heal so that you can find her. It's possible they kept her at the estate, but they might have moved her to a secondary location. Either way, we need backup."

Heath runs his hands through his light hair, stressed beyond belief. The empathy I have for him is crippling, but I can't let it show. He needs strength from me right now.

"Both of you, go," I insist. "And cover your tracks. I don't want any vampires to be able to follow you back to the pack house."

Heath strides out the door of the rundown motel room, letting it clatter closed behind him.

North shakes his head, stepping closer to me. "I hope she's worth it," he says and ire makes a low growl rumble from me. "Because if she's not and Lark ends up dead..."

"Lark's going to be fine," I insist. "The vampires should still uphold the truce–"

"The truce was a joke and we both know it," North cuts in. Disappointment crashes through me. Is that what he thought this entire time? I've been working so hard to form an alliance with the vampires to protect my pack, that maybe I lost touch with them at some point.

I swallow thickly and jerk my head toward the door. "Go and help Heath. Make sure he doesn't go over the edge; he needs you right now. Go."

Reluctantly, North steps back and then disappears out the door.

This is a fucking mess of a situation. And yet, as I turn to look back at my mate, a sense of fulfillment trickles in. I knew the mate bond would be strong, but I had no idea that it would be so immediate. Again, I step toward the bed and reach out for her. I need to touch her the way I need air to breathe.

I am barely an inch away from her skin when I hear her pulse shift. She makes a small sound and her eyelids flutter. I quickly pull back, stepping away from the bed.

A small sound escapes her lips, a moan of pain and for a second I am distracted by the sound, imagining it in a different scenario. But quickly the guilt at her obvious pain kills any possible desire.

Her eyes blink open. They are the color of dark honey and framed by thick, light eyelashes. She takes a moment to focus and then her breathing hitches. She scrambles back on the bed, her hands fisting the pillows. I despise the look of terror in her eyes.

"Who the hell are you?"

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