Page 31 of Cursed Wolf

I rode home while rock hard with her sweet taste lingering in my mouth. Blackberries. That was her scent and the flavor that greeted my tongue when her lips parted for me. And fucking moon above, I loved blackberries.

My wolf was ravenous for her. After kissing her on the blanket, he was more than ready to bite her. To leave a mark and claim her, making her permanently off limits to all others.

If Emmaline was from Vargmore, it would be a quick conversation. Do you want my bite? Would you like to claim me too? If she felt positively, we'd proceed with the marking and most likely, fuck right then and there under the sky. She would be mine and I would be hers. Simple. Instinctual.

But of course it couldn't be that easy. Fate had paired me with someone who believed my kind were fictional monsters. I had to be careful around my human, and that became especially clear when she froze up on me mid-kiss. Instincts couldn’t be relied upon, not fully. I had to use my rational, human side for this.

The next day, I decided to pay my grandmother a visit. After my werewolf grandfather died in the war with the vampires almost a century ago, she moved into the elder witch’s lodge. I took the scenic route, riding through Vargmore with the fresh mountain air whipping over me.

Humans were generally more individualistic than werewolves and didn’t have the same need for a pack as we did. They were content enough to live alone or just with their mates or single family units. The elder humans and witches however, often lived together to help support each other. Those who had lived in Vargmore for generations alongside us wolves tended to be more community-oriented. It wasn’t quite a pack but close enough.

Gran sat outside on the lodge’s wraparound porch with another elderly witch, Griselda, who owned The Manticore’s Cauldron, a witchcraft supply shop and apothecary. The two of them were talking over tea when I pulled up. A huge smile took over Gran’s face when she saw me, and she started to move the blanket from her lap.

“No, don’t get up,” I told her when I cut the engine, hurrying up the front steps to her.

“Oh shut it, pup. Movement keeps me young.” She stood despite my protests, holding her arms wide. “How are you, son?”

“Good. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I hugged her as tightly as I dared, leaning down to plant a kiss on top of her head. I visited Gran once a week at minimum, but she always greeted me like we’d spent months apart.

“Silly bear, you’re not interrupting a thing. Sit down.” She resumed her seat, putting the blanket over her lap. “Selda was just telling me she saw Riley and Sawyer in the Cauldron this morning.”

“Cleared out my peppermint supply,” the other witch chuckled as I took the seat across from them. “I guess the morning sickness has started. Poor thing.”

Gran folded her hands in her lap and nodded. “Mm-hm, it’s no easy thing to birth a werewolf pup, but she’ll get through it. We all did.”

“Thank the moon I didn’t.” Griselda laughed. “Birthing humans is hard enough. I don’t envy you wolves at all.”

I looked at Gran. “Did you know Dad was going to be a wolf?” I had never thought about it before but found myself wondering about the probabilities. Technically, I was three-quarters werewolf, one quarter human. In the far off future, if Emmaline and I were to work out and start our own family, were we more likely to have wolf or human offspring? Especially if she was fully human herself.

“I knew because the moon showed me,” Gran said solemnly. “I saw visions of him fully grown when he was still in my belly. Running on all fours, howling, hunting. A strong, beautiful beast.” She went quiet for a few moments. The same conflict with the vampires that took my grandfather, her mate, also took my parents. Sawyer’s too. At least half of the wolves in our pack were orphans because of that war.

“But if you were wondering about the statistics,” Gran continued, her keen eyes trained on me, “it’s a fifty-fifty chance. The offspring of a human-werewolf pairing is equally likely to take on the abilities of either parent.” She lifted a teacup to her lips, hawk eyes still on me. “But that’s not really what you’re asking, is it, bear?”

I smiled, knowing she would see right through me. “I’m actually wondering how you can tell if a human is a latent werewolf.”

“Oh!” Griselda leaned forward with interest. “Have you found someone, Tryn?”

“He’s found his mate,” Gran said affectionately. “Your fate thread is shimmering, bear. It looks strong and healthy.”

“Yeah, we’ve met and are…getting to know each other. It’s going well, I think. She’s brilliant, driven, and so kind, selfless.”

Gran’s lips quirked. “But she’s human? Or least human-presenting?”

“Not only that but deeply entrenched in the human world.” I sighed. “She grew up there, it’s all she knows. She has no idea about us, and I don’t know how to broach it. I’ve already lied to her about so much, and I feel terrible about it. I want her to know who I really am, but…it could backfire badly if I’m not careful.”

“What makes you think she’s a latent wolf?” Griselda took a noisy sip of tea.

“She doesn’t have just a human scent. She smells like blackberries when I’m close enough to pick it up. She also loves wolves.”

“Aw, what a dear,” Gran cooed.

“She’s a veterinarian.”

“Ooh, a doctor!” Griselda playfully slapped Gran’s forearm. “Lucky you, Midge. A fancy doctor for a granddaughter.”

I smiled down at the table. If Emmaline were here, she’d balk at being called a doctor. She’d insist she was just an intern, not even a resident yet. But if things worked out, she’d find people here who were impressed by her, who would never tear down her accomplishments.

“Well, those are certainly positive signs,” Gran hedged, ever the realist. “But the truth is, we don’t have much information on latent wolves. Fallon and Sawyer’s mates are the first we’ve truly seen in centuries, maybe even a millennium. Most of the wolves who escaped to the human world never came back here. Until recently, the theories about latent wolves were just part of our folklore.”

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