Her Miracle Mate novel Chapter 3

I knew exactly the friends he was talking about.

He looked at his feet.

"Starke. You know your packmates think I'm some sort of exiled convict or something. They give me the weirdest looks and you're already on the verge of losing your friends because of me," I said.

He smiled. "Maybe they'll get to know you how I do," he said.

"And how do you know me exactly?" I said.

He doesn't know me at all. He just pities me or something.

I sighed. "I'm sorry Starke. I'm not used to making friends and stuff like that. I just-"

"It'll be great. I promise," he said holding my shoulders.

His eyes widened as he quickly let go.

I guess there's no getting out of this.

"Okay. I'll be there."

A dyrith.

That's what the books say I am. A hybrid fantastical creature.

I was found not long after the first attack on Fathilagt. As I grew older, I learned a lot about myself. And the ways in which I was very different from all the other werewolves in the pack. Gramma told me that my father was probably a werewolf as those were my most dominant characteristics. My mother was different. She could have been a faerie, a faun, a sprite, an elf or even a vampire. What made me different didn't give it away either.

I don't have an urge to drink human blood so we're clear on the vampire front.

But imagine how cliché that would be.

It was obvious I was not Nordic as I had black hair and a deeper skin tone in a pack where being light-haired and pale-skinned was the norm. I was faster and stronger than most children of the pack.

Not quite popular though, a trait that has stuck through the years.

But hey, I think I can be really charming if you get to know me.

I really don't see any definitive characteristics in me that point to who my mother could have been. Or even what she was. My scent didn't give away much either. All these years, and I still couldn't figure it out.

Gramma Rosabelle would say I'm a descendant of royalty. She probably said that to make me feel good about myself.

I mean, she did find me crying in the mud waiting to be eaten so...

Ahem.

...

After my classes, I made my way to Milano's Eatery. I work there part-time to pay for my rent and food and also because, free Italian.

I love Italian. Don't you?

It's a good thing I got into university on a scholarship. They offered accomodation on a subsidized rate as well, but I guess we've already established that I'm not a people's person and would rather pay extra to live on my own.

I wondered if I should ask her about the customers who came in since today morning, but what would I say? I don't have a single clue as to who I'm even looking for.

I wore my apron and waited the tables for the customers going in and out. It wasn't very busy yet so I was mostly free.

I sat down in the back to eat my lunch and looked outside the window. Thin-trunked trees lined the other edge of the road. They remind me of home.

After the first massacre, Fathilagt shifted from Akureyri in the north all the way to Hof in the south, which became my home.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I quickly wiped them off as I saw Brooks coming my way.

"Hey kid. What's eating ya?" he asked. Brooks is Katryn's son and works a couple of shifts here too. If Brooks is here, that means-

"Nothing! She's at the top of the food chain!" followed by a hysterical laugh from his sister Blakely.

I almost choked on my food before I realized it was just a movie reference. I looked at her and smiled at them.

"Well she's right ya know?" I replied and Brooks just ruffled my hair. Blakely took a fork and started eating from my plate. It would normally piss me off but the gesture from her warmed me up because they're like a family to me.

The lasagna here is absolutely delicious. I don't know what they put in it but I could eat this for the rest of my life for every meal.

And that's considering the fact that werewolves live really long.

"No seriously though. What's up?" she asked me.

"Just thinking about home," I replied.