Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Harley knew well that you could only help an addict if they wanted help. Mia simply hadn’t wanted it. But Mia’s pack had blamed Harley, using her as a scapegoat for Mia’s addiction. They’d cornered and ridiculed her, they’d smashed the windows of her motor home, and they’d even tried to physically assault her on a few occasions. Only one wolf hadn’t blamed her: Mia’s brother, Jesse . . . a wolf Harley had had the world’s worst crush on. Although he’d believed her and looked out for her as best he could, he’d been unable to stop the harassment since, as a juvenile, he’d had no power or real say in the matter.
An emotional wreck, Lily had been in no position to defend or protect Harley, so Tess had taken her away. Harley’s grandparents had eventually accepted her, though they treated her as human and expected her to behave like one. But that had been okay, because she had the fabulous Tess. Her aunt didn’t look at Harley and see someone who was half shifter or half human; she just looked at her and saw her niece.
“You’ve lived in the human world ever since,” continued Gabrielle. “You are half human, half shifter. You’ve spent large portions of your life in both the human world and the shifter world. That puts you in a very unique position. It gives you two different perspectives. What’s your take on things, Harley? Are the extremists justified in their prejudice? Does The Movement take things too far? What species is in the right in this war—humans or shifters?”
“I’d answer you, I really would . . . but talking to you is about as appealing as sandpapering a wild cat’s ass while having my nipples chewed off by rabid dogs. You are well known for twisting the facts. I’ll bet that if I had a dollar for every truth you printed, I’d be in debt.”
“You have a way with sarcasm.”
Harley smiled brightly. “Just a little service I provide. It’s even free. Now as much as I enjoy our conversations, I have somewhere to be.”
“I’m going to write that article with or without your help, Harley. Give me something.”
Damn, she was persistent. It was a quality that Harley might have admired under other circumstances. Without breaking stride, Harley glanced at her over her shoulder. “I suppose I could give you one final thought . . . but I’m not sure you have anywhere to put it.” Smiling at the fox’s growl, Harley walked straight to the hotel.
The moment she was in the privacy of her room, she dropped the halfhearted smile, took a deep breath, and tried to shake off the memories of her past. She wasn’t ashamed to be a shifter and she didn’t resent her inner cat. As a species, shifters were mostly good and they took care of their own. Harley’s pride mates, however, had somewhat different priorities. Even to this day they squatted on land they didn’t own, caused brawls and bar fights for fun, and spent most of their time either drunk or blitzed on drugs.
Given her pride’s reputation, she understood why Mia’s parents and pack blamed Harley for their daughter’s addiction—especially since Harley had looked the part of a “bad influence.” Back then, she’d hidden behind a goth “I don’t give a shit” look so that no one would see just how unhappy and angry she was with . . . well, everything.
What Mia’s parents should have noticed was that their daughter had wandered down a path of self-destruction. Once, when Mia was totally shit-faced, she’d told Harley all about how her best friend, Torrie, had drowned while they were at a lake; both girls had been eleven at the time. Mia not only lived with survivor’s guilt and an unrelenting grief at the loss of Torrie but with the knowledge that Jesse would be without his true mate.
Mia was convinced that Jesse secretly hated her, despite the fact that he claimed he didn’t blame her for not saving Torrie. As a child, Jesse had been playful and roguish. After his true mate’s death, he became hard, militant, and distrustful; he always wore a blank expression that Mia believed masked a deep loathing of her. And nothing Harley said could convince her otherwise—Mia would just claim that Harley was biased because she loved him.
In honesty, Harley had loved Jesse. As an adult, Harley could see that it had been an immature, juvenile love as opposed to the fierce, ferocious, all-consuming feeling that every shifter felt for their partner. It hadn’t been any less real, though. And that hadn’t stopped her from melting inside when she saw him at Mia’s memorial . . . or from having him in her bed that night.
Yeah, well, their emotions had been all over the place, and they’d just wanted comfort. Or, at least, that was what she told herself on those few occasions when she wondered if she’d made the right choice by sneaking out the next morning. Those occasions were few and far between, because Harley was a realist.