Chance Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire 6) by T. S. Joyce

gray morning light into the bedroom. She listened harder. Was someone in here? She sat up in a rush and pulled out the long hunting knife she kept hidden under the edge of the mattress. She blasted out of bed, but skidded to a stop once she reached the living room of her dad’s old house. It was the receiver, picking up conversation between Dalton and Kate.
    Shoulders sagging, she squeezed her eyes tightly closed against the monster hangover headache that was pulsing behind her eye sockets. So many bad decisions. They’d been fun at the time and would’ve been worth it if it weren’t for Chance’s complete and utter rejection to end the night.
    Dalton asked Kate what she wanted for breakfast.
    Uninterested, Emily stumbled over the cold floor boards to the bathroom and washed up. It wasn’t until her teeth were brushed, her face washed, and she was dressed for the day that a more familiar voice came over the receiver. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping like this. Everything was different from yesterday, and now she was riddled with guilt that she’d bugged their house.
    She rushed to turn off the receiver, but Chance said, “No, Emily isn’t mine,” in a tired, hoarse voice.
    Emily froze, finger hovering over the power button. She already knew this, so why was she hesitating?
    “What’s wrong with you?” Dalton asked.
    “I didn’t sleep last night.”
    “At all?” Kate sounded worried.
    The banging of pots and a fork scraping across a plate sounded. “Kate, breakfast looks good.”
    “Chance, what’s going on? Is it about Emily?”
    “I don’t want to talk about her anymore, okay? She was just a friend. She’s temporary, and I’m not looking.”
    “For a mate, you mean, because I know that look, man,” Dalton said. “I saw it every morning in the mirror when I was bonding with Kate.”
    “Emily isn’t my mate. Not even close.”
    “Why not?” Kate asked. “I liked her. She was really nice and fun and the way she looked at you—”
    “Kate! I’m serious. This isn’t up for discussion.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because she isn’t mate material. I can’t trust her, and what would a relationship ever be worth without that? Huh? She’s not it. Let it go.”
    Emily huffed a pained breath and turned off the receiver. Emily isn’t my mate. Not even close. I can’t trust her.
    Oh, she knew what she was, what she was trained to be, but she’d just cut herself off from the last of her family, even before Chance had given her the night of her life. If that didn’t earn a little trust, she didn’t know what did. He couldn’t see into her mind, though, didn’t know how horrible she felt, so she had to accept it.
    She’d thought for a moment that maybe, in time, she could earn his trust, but he’d cut her off early, and she couldn’t blame him. Honestly, she would’ve done the same thing.
    Somehow, that didn’t take away the sting of his words, though.
    A Hell Hunter and a werewolf. She would’ve laughed if she didn’t feel like her insides were on fire. She’d been so stupid to think they could be anything other than this—worlds apart.
    Blinking back the burn in her eyes, she pulled a pair of work gloves off the kitchen countertop and strode into the master bedroom. All of Dad’s things were still in here. She’d imagined going through them and keeping trinkets, then perhaps having an estate sale for his belongings that didn’t hold sentimental value for her.
    But the truth of it was, she hadn’t ever really known him, and after his death, she’d realized how uninterested in her he’d always been. Sure, he preached about the importance of her carrying on the Hell Hunter line. It was in their blood, after all. But he and Mom had never married, and he hadn’t shown the slightest interest in fighting for custody over her or even asking for more visitation. She spent a few weeks in the summer with him where he spewed hate for shifters and trained her in survival and killing. His hunting