Chapter Eight
Aubrey was embarrassed. For a variety of reasons. What had happened that morning, in the forest, with the wolf…yeah, she’d been trying to forget. She knew now for absolute certain the wolf she’d come face to face with had been a werewolf. No doubt about it. Why she’d become so confounded in its presence, she had no idea. It went against everything she thought she’d been prepared for. She’d spent her life training for that moment and instead of taking the shot, she’d dropped to her knees in surrender. It made her sick. She’d faced the enemy and had failed her heritage.
Failed.
Which was probably why she wasn’t chosen by a Hunter. What kind of Hunter would want to bond with a failure?
If there was any doubt before that moment—any hope that the Hunters had made a mistake—it was gone now. She was not a Huntress. A Huntress would not have wanted to caress the fur of a hated enemy.
Aubrey had been lost in her thoughts all day, feeling the burn of her embarrassment. Thankful in one regard that she had no one to confess the transgression to. Mournful that she had no one to commiserate with at the same time. Would her sister understand? Maybe before she’d become a Huntress—certainly not anymore.
She was alone. Unwanted. And for good reason. She was a disgusting show of weakness.
Strangely, the only thing that invaded her dark thoughts was the determination to thank Jaylon for taking the time to set up her target area. She felt it was vital he know how much his thoughtfulness impacted her. Maybe it was a need to connect with someone. An excuse that would make a lot more sense if she’d made a little more effort throughout the day to connect with Darcy.
If she’d been acting weird, which she probably had been, Darcy hadn’t said anything. Instead, Darcy had tried to pull her into the fun, took her out shopping for the day, demanding that she try on some clothes, sling a purse over her shoulder to see how it would look, slip on a pair of impossibly high, neck-breaking heels. After indulging Darcy for a while, Aubrey resisted any further temptation for shopping fun, determined to keep things professional so she wouldn’t lose herself any more than she already had. Except…she couldn’t keep her mind off of Jaylon. That persistent little tingle of something in her stomach every time she thought about his kind gesture. Professional.
Yeah, sure.
It wasn’t until dinnertime that she even saw him. Dinnertime. An event that was mandatory for everyone, including security, to attend. Something she would have preferred to avoid given her current state of mind, but if it meant a chance to speak with Jaylon, then she would bear it.
“You’re part of the family now,” Mayhem had said in his stern, demanding way, like a father making a command that brokered no debate. “We’d like to get to know you.”
Get to know her they did, pushing her to the limits of the story she’d planned out for herself. Even causing her to slip up once or twice about her sister, her training, her life in the woods. Her accidental info sharing was nothing of much concern—without context, they would never guess that when she said she’d been training with her bow for her whole life, she actually meant training to kill werewolves. Or that when she let it slip about her sister being chosen by her true mate, what she’d really meant was that her Hunter had come to claim her.
They poured glass after glass of wine, the first one going down so quickly, loosening her tension, and her tongue. Easing the burden of regret she’d been carrying all day.
“I saw a wolf in the woods today. Probably want to avoid strolling out there without some kind of protection.” She hadn’t meant to say anything, didn’t think it would be an issue for anyone in the house. How many rock stars went for strolls in the woods? Especially at night when they seemed to be most active. As of late, the werewolves generally stayed away from humans, unless they were after someone in particular. “In fact, it might be best if you avoid going out there at all. I think there might be a pack prowling the area. I heard howling.”
Mayhem’s eyes snapped to hers. All conversation stopped. Someone dropped a utensil, the clang on their plate deafening.
“You saw a wolf?” His voice was low, almost a growl, a warning.
Aubrey frowned, the hair on the back of her neck prickling. “I was training with my bow.” She glanced at Jaylon, suddenly nervous, confused. His eyes were cold, glaring, it seemed, at her. “In the west lawn, and it came out of the woods. Big, brown, golden eyes.”