My Hybrid Mate

Chapter 2: Bird's Nest

"So, what the f**k do I do?" I add after I finish explaining the whole story in detail to Shane. He leans back against the wall and lets out a deep breath.

"Well, for starters, was he hot?" He asks, tone serious and face straight.

"What?" I reply blankly, lost for words. I’m meant to be getting advice from my brother right now, and instead he’s asking if the mate who practically rejected me is hot or not.

"We need to know if this dude is worth your time." I shake my head at his logic. Of course, he’s worth my time! I don’t want to spend my whole life wondering where my mate went. "So, what does he look like?" He pushes. I raise an eyebrow, but he returns with a facial expression that says ‘shut up and just tell me’.

"Um, black hair, defined cheekbones and jawline. Incredibly hot. Basically the opposite of you."

"Well, at least I can keep my mate." He retorts back. I roll my eyes at him.

"I’m serious, Shai! What am I meant to do? Do I look for him? Or leave him? What if he never comes back? What if the Moon Goddess made a mistake this time? I can’t be mated to a f*****g wizard!" I rage, standing up and pacing up and down in front of him.

"Ave! Just stop talking for a minute and think about this! Okay, so this is not the ideal situation. It’s not like mine and Iris’s relationship, but who do you know who specialises in messed up mate bonds?" Shane says calmly, his demeanor not even changing. See, this is why I came to him first. He knows how to keep a clear head.

"Mum and Dad." I breathe in realisation.

"Exactly - Dad is the perfect person to speak to. He’ll know what the hell is going through the mind of that sick f**k. And he’s the Alpha of this pack anyway. He has the most power and knows more about werewolves and the supernatural than I ever will." I nod my head and stop pacing, standing in front of Shane.

"Okay. Good. I’ll go speak to dad." I nod again and head for the door with determination. But as I reach it, I realise something else. "Ew, Shane, I walked past the kitchen when I was coming up here. Mum and Dad were making out." I pull a face and shudder at the memory. I’m just going to have to wait until later. There’s no way I’m going to attempt to talk to him in that situation.

"Ugh, are you kidding me? Last time that happened, Sophie popped out." Shane sighs, lying back down on the bed in defeat.

"Yeah, I’ll just wait a bit." As soon as the words are out my mouth, his phone starts ringing. I can tell it’s Iris from the way he smiles when he reads the caller ID.

The look he gives me is apologetic, but it doesn’t mean he would rather sympathise with me than his soul mate.

This, I totally understand. I don’t know what type of sister I would be if I let my own personal struggles with my love life get in the way of his as well. So I leave his room and head for mine.

As soon as I cast my eyes on the bed, I feel my eyelids droop. I found him today. I realised he is not even fully werewolf. I don’t think I can ever have a normal life with him as my mate.

So all I want to do is get away from a house filled with happy mated couples and tiny children who came as a symbol of said relationships. I mean, I guess I can't run from myself, but I can run from everyone who reminds me that I’m exactly what I declared to run away from.

Unconsciously, I make it to the front door, ignoring the moans from the kitchen. I shiver in disgust. There are a lot of rooms in this house, but they have to make another baby in the home of the food?

I’m in my parent’s car before I can think more about the topic of food. I haven’t eaten since I had an apple for breakfast and it’s now mid afternoon.

Okay, first destination: the cafe in the next town over.

I always go to the same place when I don’t feel like talking to anyone or being with anyone. That has happened a lot recently because of the fights with my (ex) girlfriends. The reason it’s perfect is because hardly anyone knows about the tiny building located next to the petrol station downtown, and people from the pack tend to want to stay around the territory in case there’s an emergency.

The route to get there is embedded in my mind like a branding. Therefore, I make it there without taking anything in, killing anyone, or paying attention to my surroundings. I have a theory that my wolf takes over when I’m in these situations, but I don’t know.

Walking round the petrol station with my bag on my shoulder, I reach the small café. With its blue shutters and doorbell, anyone could mistake this place for a house. I tell you, it took a while to find somewhere I can just think in. But now I’ve found it, nowhere else compares. It even has a mini library in the back; quaint and filled with second hand books about romance and old castles, and sometimes the odd fiction book. An old computer sits between the shelves too, so it’s a great place for doing homework.

I order a coffee and a plate of fries as soon as I see Weston behind the counter, fixing up an espresso for the other figure hunched over in a booth at the back.

Weston is an old rouge werewolf, probably about sixty going on seventy. Many people from the pack know about his existence, but no one wants to call him out since he’s never done anything even remotely classed as wrong. He’s only trying to put his old life behind him and start over as a human figure. We’ve had the odd conversation about politics and humanity in the past, and he knows me well, never saying I have to pay for a coffee and food, but I always do anyway – leaving them under the coffee cup or sliding some cash in the sugar pot before leaving.

Heading straight to the library, I dump my bag on the closest table to the chair and go right to the shelf at the back. I know from experience and from Weston telling me that it’s where all the real non-fiction about the supernatural is. I need to find out more about wizards, and how it’s possible for a half breed to be my mate.

Weston comes over and places the coffee on the table before walking over to me.

“You alright, Hon?” he asks, patting my back as I continue looking through the books.

“Yeah, thanks.” I replied. “Just looking for a book on wizards.” I add. He finds it almost immediately on the shelf and hands me a hard back called ‘A Wizard’s View – History, Facts and Everything You Need to Know about This Kind’. “Ah, thanks Weston.” I smile, taking it back to the table. He doesn’t ask what I want it for or anything, just grabs my fries from the counter and places them next to me. He nods and goes back behind the cashier to read the paper.

An hour and two more coffees later, and the memories of history class in werewolf school are slowly coming back to me.

Basically, there are two types of wizards in this world. Both are very rare because of a war that occurred centuries ago between them. You have good ones and bad ones, to put it simply.

When a wizard is sixteen, they gain their powers. It depends on the emotions inside them whether these are good or bad powers. A lot of the time, it depends on the childhood and past of the being.

A good wizard is given powers that mean they can subtly make the world a better place. So they can levitate things and occasionally stop time to get to an accident faster. They could get rid of potential threats to the world.

Bad wizards. They’re cold. Shut off. They can’t feel emotions. They block everything out so they can be completely ruthless. They are the threat to the world, to people.

A part of me knows that Everest isn’t a good wizard. But he can’t be completely shut off if he’s only half wizard, right? He still has the rational wolf part of himself, doesn’t he?

“I really had you pegged as a Brainiac.” A husky voice sounds from behind me, sending shivers up my spine.

Electricity crackles in the air between us and I sit completely still, coffee in hand and book open in front of me. “Yet you’re researching my history, so you can’t be. I mean, wizardry is common knowledge, is it not?” my eyes flick to the side, where he is pulling up a chair next to me. I watch him fold his hands in his lap cockily and lean back against the wooden chair, causing it to cry out under his weight.

“Everest.” I answer tightly, trying not to break off a piece of the table in anger. “What do you want?”

He chuckles mechanically, his dark hair brushing over his eyelid. “I figured your wolf would want to see me. She’s going crazy about me, is she not?”

"Not."

"She's probably freaking out too much because of that shirt. You look like a really badly decorated 90’s flat just puked on you." he shrugs.

“Is this your way of rejecting me?” I ask instead of acknowledging his comment to try and keep my wolf in check. Truth is, she’s not going crazy about him. She’s hurt by his earlier actions. She wants to be near her mate, but she doesn’t. She’s as confused as I am.

“No.” Everest states firmly. It surprises the f**k out of me, and obviously him too, as he shakes his head at himself. “I find watching you suffer with the mate bond pretty entertaining, to be honest. Why would I want to ruin that?”

“Well, then I can just reject you instead then.” I shrug, and open my mouth to say it, but he interrupts me.

“Don’t reject me.” He commands and the haunting feeling from earlier when he used his powers to keep me still comes back. Surely enough, when I try to say it again, the words won’t leave my lips.

“Bastard.” I mutter under my breath instead whilst trying to contain my wolf. The mate bond is forgotten, she just wants to wipe that smirk off his face.

“I’ve been told.” He retorts, still smirking. He stands up. “Please sort out your hair for the next time we see each other. I don’t want to be connected with a bird's nest.” And with that, he leaves the cafe. I want to throw the half empty coffee cup against the wall, but it’s pretty china and Weston might freak out.

I glance at the cafe owner, who’s looking at me anyway. He jumps off the stool and I slip some money under the plate from the fries, thinking he’s going to throw me out. But instead, he whispers in my ear.

“There’s a dead tree out back I use when I’m mad, feel free to punch the s**t out of it if you need, but if it falls down, you owe me a new plant. Preferably a cactus. I don’t have one yet.” He winks and I nod with a small smile, heading for the tree outside.

***

My parents don’t like me having a lot of guy friends. They’re way too over-protective and seem to think that I’ll end up getting pregnant with someone other than my mate. But I love being around guys - not in a slutty kind of way, but a way that means I have friends who don’t judge me when I send a text with less than three words in it.

Therefore, it’s not weird for me when I wake up to find Alex sprawled out on the floor next to my bed, using pillows from the window seat to prop his head up, flicking through a random book off the shelf about a zombie apocalypse. His shoes are thrown on the floor and his jacket over the desk chair - the window open, morning light flooding through it.

The window is his method of sneaking into my room. Again, I should initiate that I am not a slut - I haven’t even lost my virginity yet, but it’s easier for my parents, especially dad, to allow my friends to be guys if they come over less often. So, although I see my friends a lot, my parents generally think I’m a moody teenager with no social life.

"Hey." I state simply, putting on a brave face. He doesn’t need to know about my problems; I know he has enough going on already. He usually comes here if he has an argument with his parents, which is pretty often.

His father, Ben, was an alcoholic when he was younger. He and his group of friends, including my dad, used to go to a lot of parties back in ‘the day’. After dad and the rest of his friends found their mates and Ben didn’t, he turned to drugs instead. So when he did finally find his mate – Alex’s mum Sarah - she nearly downright rejected him. Lately, Alex has started coming home drunk every now and then, which pisses off his parents a lot. Fights with them are a daily occurrence for him now.

"Hey Ry." He smiles, using the nickname he gave me when we were kids and putting his book down, sitting up on the bed, hands resting on his knees.

"Another argument?"

"Yeah." He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "You don’t mind if I stay for a bit, do you?"

"No, stay as long as you want." I grab a shirt from the closet along with a bra and a pair of jeans. "I’ll be back in a sec." I add, walking out the door to the bathroom. I take a quick shower to get rid of the consequences of not showering after a run and plane trip and change, throwing my hair into a braid behind my head to stop the front of my shirt getting wet. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s gone twelve in the afternoon, which isn’t rare for me, especially on Sundays.

I dump my dirty clothes in the washing basket and head back to my room, where Alex is flicking through the book again sitting on my desk chair.

"This storyline is crap." He shakes his head in annoyance and flings the paperback on the desk. "It’s all fighting and killing and death." He adds.

"Lex, it’s a book about zombies. Of course it’s gonna be based on death." I roll my eyes, stand up and head for the bookshelf. "See, this one," I picked up one of Sophie’s picture books that had somehow wound up in my room. It has a smiling flower on the front, and it’s called ‘Lily’s Yellow Petals’. "Is a complete page turner. It’s amazingly well written, it even has pictures to go with! I tell you, it’s definitely one of my favourites - by the same author who wrote ‘Sally’s Trip to the Park’!"

"You’re such a weirdo, Ry." He laughs, taking the book from my hands. Opening to the first page, he clears his throat. "Lily was a happy little yellow coloured flower. All the bees loved her -" He stops suddenly staring at the page. “I think this should be R-rated, isn’t pollination the plant form of s*x?"