Freya had stashes of clothing all over the place. The floral outfit she was wearing wasn’t exactly intimidating clothing. She put on her black pants, shirt, combat boots and her hooded cloak. She situated her daggers and stakes in her utility belt. It felt like forever ago and at the same time as if her life with Wyatt was a dream. She felt her stomach roll at the thought.
The steps to the dark tavern felt heavy. She knew the type of scum bags that were frequent patrons. She had to forget about her life as a Luna. She was Freya, the demon hunter. The soulless dhampir who wanted nothing but to slit your throat. She pushed open the door that creaked its old greeting. Her boots echoed on the wooden floor with each commanding step she took. She sat on a stool at th
