Huntress Reborn (Supernatural Midlife Mystique) Read Online Brenda Trim, Tia Didmon

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 25641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
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Expert:

A Hunter. An Infected Vampire. A Rejected God.

Since my divorce and moving to the States, I only practice martial arts to blow off steam, but when my mentor is murdered by a shape-shifting vampire, I’m on the hunt for the monster that killed him.
My pursuit leads me to the Shadow Council. The ruling body of the supernatural world. As if that isn’t strange enough, a forgotten God wants me to train a new breed of hunters, to prepare for the impending war.
Armed with an immortal weapon and a sexy sidekick, will I be able to slay my demons, or am I one bite away from an apocalypse?

Full Book:

CHAPTER 1

Getting to my feet, I stretched and twisted, praying the aches and pains from sitting would dissipate. Unfortunately, that wasn’t happening quickly. Since I turned forty, it got more and more difficult to sit at my desk, ensuring the firewalls for my client’s websites remained secure. Not that I blamed my age for that issue. The human body wasn’t designed to sit in an office chair for ten-plus hours.

I was restless due to the way I’d grown up in Japan. My father’s ancestors were samurai, and he still adhered to their beliefs. The way of the warrior. Courage, respect, sincerity, righteousness, honor, benevolence, self-control, and loyalty. By following the samurai code, a warrior could fulfill his duties to society.

He passed those values to me, including a daily lesson on how to wield a wooden sword. He taught me because my brother died when he was young. My father expected me to pass the ways of the sword onto my children, so the samurai legend lived on.

He drilled the samurai mantra into me from an early age. The core belief that life is limited, but name and honor last forever. These warriors prized honor, public image, and their ancestral name, above all, even more than their own lives. It was my motivation for marrying the man I did. He promised to uphold my family name.

My father couldn’t give me the family samurai sword. They were outlawed in my home country and he never removed ours from its hiding place. He told me it would be mine one day to pass on to my sons. I believe my father stopped trying to get it to me when I had my daughter, Maekawa, and was warned it was unsafe for me to have more children.

It hadn’t been easy living with my father‌. However, his training kept me active throughout the day and I thrived when I practiced those ancient skills. I moved more now than I had when I moved to the United States twenty years ago.

My mood soured as I remembered the reason I was uprooted from my home. My ex-husband. That asshole didn’t pay me rent, so he shouldn’t have any real estate in my mind. Yet, the jerk kept returning despite me swearing I wouldn’t give him any more of my time. Bastard.

Never give up trying to keep him out, Nishi. You deserve so much better.

Pep talk done. I grabbed my jacket and headed to the door. I was on my porch when I remembered to go back inside and grab my mace. I knew the way to the dojo like the back of my hand and could fight better than most, but I still felt safer having a weapon on me.

It felt good to walk the ten blocks to Master Taniguchi’s dojo. Tani had been my saving grace when my ex-husband, Matsuzaki, moved us to the United States. Being in a strange world with foreign customs turned me into a recluse. The only time I left was to go train with Tani each evening.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me ‌it was past dinner, and I had once again skipped the evening meal. I got so caught up in fixing the breach to a client’s website that I forgot to stop and take care of myself. It was a recurring theme, and I knew I had to start prioritizing my health.

There wouldn’t be much training tonight if I didn’t eat something. The smell of cumin and grilled chicken lured me into the taco shop a few blocks from the dojo. The heavenly scent emanating from the restaurant made my mouth water.

I lifted my hand in greeting to the young man at the cash register. “Hey, Raul. How’s business?”

Raul smiled as he handed another customer their order. “I can’t complain. What can I get you tonight? The usual?”

I twisted the ring around my middle finger as I looked over the menu above his head. Raul’s parents owned the place, and I’d been coming there for five years. Ever since I divorced Matsu. I was a creature of habit, and no matter how many times I looked at the menu, I ended up getting the chicken burrito, no rice with guacamole.


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