Page 11 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

How many times had she heard that? It was a favorite saying among werewolf parents—and foster parents. Unlike their human counterparts, they encouraged their children to “play the field” before settling down. And it wasn’t a euphemism. On the contrary, they wanted their kids to hop in and out of beds. To an outsider, it might seem like irresponsible advice.

To a wolf, however, it made total sense. Because marriage among werewolves was a metaphysical affair. When wolves spoke of matings being “forever” they meant it. The species wasn’t immortal—although that would have been cool—but they lived longer than humans, with most wolves making it to around a hundred and thirty. As a bonus, they spent the majority of those years healthy and youthful-looking. The theory went that the sacred mating bond was behind this genetic advantage. Known as the lux catena, it literally meant “chain of light.” And while it wasn’t a literal chain, it nevertheless bound one mate’s life to the other. If one died, the other followed.

She understood that better than most.

There was no divorce among werewolves. Once you were bound, you were bound for life. Literally. So it made sense that nature froze wolves at their most attractive, thereby reducing any temptation to stray. The mating bond did its part, too. Every mated wolf Haley had ever talked to said the lux catena created an unbreakable connection. Love could be part of the equation, but it didn’t have to be. The magic in the chain didn’t care about that. It just made sure they could never betray each other.

It was hard to imagine such a powerful connection.

On some level, it was also frightening.

She looked at the letter again. “So there’s no pressure with this? If I don’t like him I—”

“You come back home.” Max leaned forward a little in his chair. “You always have a home here, ma belle.”

Did he know how much she needed to hear that? Stupid tears rushed into her eyes, and she lowered her gaze so he wouldn’t see them. She had more to be thankful for than most orphans. Her foster parents loved her and had raised her as their own.

Still, she’d never felt like she truly belonged anywhere.

But maybe she just hadn’t found the right place.

She lifted her head and looked at the jagged coastline Max had pointed to on the map. “Why no matings? In Washington, I mean.” Sure, wolves couldn’t do much about their fertility problems, but people still wanted to get married, didn’t they? For most, the urge to find a mate was overwhelming.

Yet another “present” from Mother Nature.

Max made a soft sound that drew her attention. “The truth is, no one knows.” He shrugged—a Gallic gesture that was pure Québécois. “As a territory, it’s extremely isolated. The wolves there live in a mountain community. It’s beautiful, but I can see how a young person would want to leave.”

She gestured toward the windows and the forest outside. “Most wolves prefer isolation. It’s not like we’re city dwellers around here.”

He smiled. “You’ve obviously never been to the Cascades. There’s isolation, and then there’s isolation. From what I’ve heard, most of the younger Washington wolves choose to move to other territories. Those that will have them, that is.”

Easier said than done, she knew. Werewolves were jealous of their borders—and even more so about their bloodlines. If this Benjamin Rupert was a former latent, he was unlikely to find a territory willing to welcome him. He might be Turned now, but the so-called pure-blooded wolves would always treat him like a second class citizen.

Sympathy sparked in her chest. If she ever had a son, and that son was a latent, would she do everything in her power to make him happy? Even write a letter asking an Alpha to send him a prospective mate?

Yes. Yes, she would.

She let her gaze wander over the ragged Pacific coastline. “If I did this, where would I stay?”

“There’s a small bed and breakfast in town.”

“You’d expect me to stay with humans?”

He made a negative sound. “Elder Lake doesn’t have any humans. All the residents are wolves. Well, wolves and horses.”

She jerked her eyes to his. “Horses?”

A small smile played around his mouth. “The seat of the Washington Territory has more wild horses than werewolves.”

“Wild horses?”

“I’ve been told it’s the only herd in the Canadian Cascades.”

“When do I leave?”

He laughed but put up a hand. “I can’t guarantee you’ll get an opportunity to see them—or even get near them. Don’t forget, you’re a Turned wolf now. Most animals loathe us.”

“That’s a chance I’ll take.”

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